Wednesday, December 29, 2010

it's most horrible time of the year

the holidays, that is.

maybe it's the forced interaction. maybe it's being snowed in for days upon end. maybe it's simply being away from my own space.

or maybe it's all the work i've done in psychoanalysis that has me realizing how the environment in which i was raised has really fucked me up.

i believe to an extent that your happiness is your own responsibility. and so, i will not be held responsible for other people's unhappiness. not anymore.

i realize that, in part, the reason that i wake up everyday feeling like i am a bad person is a function of being raised in a house where you were constantly criticized. i all day long. where nothing you did was ever good enough. and where you were expected to apologize for yourself even when you hadn't done anything wrong just so that there wouldn't be any conflict.

except there was always conflict. and the person shoving all of this nonsense about appropriate action down your throat was someone that never once took responsibility for their own hurtful ways. and to this day still has not.

once while we were in paris, we were walking down the street this creepy guy grabbed me. my mother told me it was my fault for wearing a tight shirt. it was always my fault. all i heard growing up was how what would people think when they looked at me if i wore tight clothes. or a shirt that showed any skin at all.

once, i was in bed with my ex-boyfriend. we had just started dating. i sat up and started crying. i just remember saying 'i'm so sorry. i'm a bad person.' he didn't know what to do. he told me later that it shocked him.

i dated this guy a couple of years back. i told him after the second or third date that he should forget about me. i would only bring him unhappiness. he said that he just thought we should go out again. that it was way to soon for me to say something like that. but i knew the truth.

i don't know where these random stories came from.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

the one-dog wolf pack

people let me tell you 'bout my best friend...


this morning the other dogs were having a wild rumpus in the snow. so i took inga outside to join in. i let her off the leash, assuming she would just pack up with the others and run around all crazy like.

but she just stood watching. for a while. as the other dogs ran back and forth and back and forth.

so i was all like "inga. go ahead. go on..."

and she took off. but not with the other dogs. down the hill. across the field. with me sliding after her.
and then we went and played in the
snow by ourselves. apparently, i am the only other member of the pack.

i should really thank her though. i mean,i look outside at the frozen expanse and all i think of are
apocalyptic cormac mccarthy visions a la 'the road.' no. i have never actually seen this movie.

or read the book. but i remember bleak imagery that possibly involved snow.

the point is...i go out and come back in.

i wonder if i might be a touch agoraphobic. is it possible to be just a little agoraphobic? or is it like being 'a little pregnant'?

while i contemplated this, inga searched for every snow drift. but, without luck. the mice were buried deep today.

when we finally trudged back up the very tall hill to where my parents live, ingas face was covered in snow and ice from sticking her snout into so many drifts. and my mother exclaimed 'oh! POOR inga!!' and looked at me like i was the worst person imaginable.

and she didn't believe me when i told her that inga wanted to stick her nose in the snow.
it was a good day.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

i wasn't dreaming of a white christmas...

but i am having one anyway.

we are snowed in. officially unable to get in and out of the driveway. at car. we tried this morning, prior to major accumulation and we basically slid down the driveway. it was not fun. my sisters and i pretty much refused to get in a vehicle after that. we even forced my father to leave his truck at the bottom of the hill.

i am, as we speak, preparing to set forth on foot across the frozen tundra. to grandmother's house i go.

my thought, as my mother told us that if it keeps snowing we will lose power, was...i should have bought a bigger bottle of bailey's. i don't think it's going to last through this.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

i'm a mean one

just because a person hates snow...

or can't stomach 'it's a wonderful life'...

or cringes at the sound of christmas music....

and doesn't go to church...

or doesn't get the thrill of the dickens light up christmas village...

or could care less about how appropriately spaced the ornaments on the christmas tree are....

does that REALLY make said person a grinch?

personally, i empathize with mr. grinch. first, every who down in whoville was fucking annoying. most especially cindy lou who. second, who-hash sounds super nasty. the whos should have thanked him for taking it. the roastbeast, however, looked boss. i would have eaten all myself.

finally, and most importantly, i too hate joining hands in the group setting. it's just weird. not to mention all those germs.

but as the grinch learned, you can't fight christmas. so you might as well just suck it up. at the very least you might get to carve the roastbeast.

i've gotta lotta problems with you people...and're gonna hear about 'em...

this is the way to do it. instead of everyone keeping it bottled up and bitching about this thing or that thing. or even worse...arguing about politics.

it is safe to say that the holiday stress is upon us. big time. the stress is palpable. i, for one, feel that the feats of strength would be a great way to get out the tension.

in lieu of airing grievances, i have baked two kinds of fudge (cherry chocolate and raspberry truffle) , divinity (which i don't even like), bourbon pralines, and dozens upon dozens of sugar cookies.

my fingers hurt from rolling the cookies. from the flour. and on that note, let me air a grievance with mr. alton brown....powdered sugar does not work as a good replacement for flour when rolling dough. it just doesn't.

i can't even remember what the point was. could be i've had too much bailey's. gotta keep those grievances in somehow.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

i've got to stop. really.

today, while writing about critical junctures and the like, i watched 'the lovely bones' and 'my sister's keeper'.

oh yes...i cried for a better part of today.

i thought 'the lovely bones' was good. really good. i love movies set in the 1970's. i think it's the clothes.

and 'my sister's keeper' was also good. alec baldwin was on point. i can't stand cameron diaz, though. and whoever did the soundtrack should be taken out in the woods and shot. that movie could have used some tom waits in a BIG way. but it made some very interesting points about technology, particularly genetics.

and about love and letting go. which isn't really my strong suit, as you may or may not have noticed.

through the magic of facebook, i also found out that people really do those elaborate marriage proposals that involve hyper romantic/outrageous shennanigans.

that didn't make me cry though. it just pissed me off. mostly because i want that, but will never have it.

where the fuck is my christmas miracle?

but as i learned from my cinematic forays today, miracles just don't happen. we simply must accept the futility of it all.

maybe tomorrow i should watch something happier.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

the homage vice pays to virtue

in my last entry i shamelessly called out drew barrymore, arguing that holly wood and the film industry would be better off if she just accepted her station in stead of trying to shove worthless cinematic endeavors down our throats. i totally meant those things.

but i realize that i am, in fact, no better.

i can't even accept my own feelings. most especially towards the other. i am so uncomfortable with even feeling emotion that i can't even be honest to myself about what i feel. i find myself making small talk.

and i fucking hate small talk.

i make jokes instead of saying my feelings. because i'm afraid.

and any talk is better than no talk.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

the magic of satellite television

the magic of satellite television is that even with two hundred channels there is never anything on. and this is counting the premium movie channels that my parents now subscribe to.

i'm not complaining though. because of the expanded channel selection and the fact that is too cold to even go outside, i have been able to catch up on some movies that work has prevented me from seeing. such as...

training day day: new, i mean...'brooklyn's finest.

oh, antoine came so dangerously close to playing yourself with this film. but somehow, by the skin of your teeth and the help of some of the top actors in hollywood (richard gere, i'm not talking to you), you managed to not do so. i've got to say that it took me a minute to get into this film, which might have had more to do with my mother complaining about the excessive violence and richard gere's lack of acting ability than the fact that the film itself was bad.

i insightfully explained that fuqua's juxtoposition of the police department/crack dealer narratives was to highlight their inherent similarities and that violence was a necessary part of that. i also explained that richard gere always, always, always plays the confused middle aged white guy and that as long as you don't expect more from him than that, the there should be no problem with his acting abilities.

she didn't buy it.

she did, however, provide the perfect synapsis of the film for my father. he fell asleep in the middle of the movie and when he woke up we were watching 'hotel for dogs.' he was all like "this isn't the same movie, is it?' and my mom was like 'no. the other movie ended. everybody got shot except richard gere.' and that was pretty much what happened after two hours of character development.

strangely, don cheadle is in both 'brooklyn's finest' and 'hotel for dogs'. so i could understand the confusion.

i also watched 'whip it'. ok. that's a lie. i watched it for like 20 minutes. enough to reaffirm that ellen page is the worst actress of her generation AND drew barrymore has no business in or around the film industry. she can't act, is NOT a cover girl, and needs to quit tarnishing her family's hollywood legacy.

drew, the path to a healthy self begins with acceptance. accept that you are a marginal actress (at best). accept that you should NOT ever have cast yourself in charlie's angels, as you are no farrah. accept that you are the spoiled heiress of an otherwise imminently talented family. accept that you should not be going around preaching self love while knowing that you have, yourself, had cosmetic surgery (breast reduction counts). is very easy to preach self-love when everyone's telling you how great you look now that you've dropped 40lbs. the only people buying it are fat girls that want to be thin. it's so tragic.

i also watched steel magnolias. i have seen it a thousand times, but i still cried just as hard.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

baby, it's cold outside

so cold i can see my breath. so cold there is snow on the ground and ice on the roads. so cold you have to warm yourself by the fire. so cold that my icy heart feels warm in comparison.

for some reason, though, it was not so cold that it prevented my sister and i from making my mother take us to get ice cream after dinner.

ah east i know why i went west in the first place. fuck wintertime. i mean, there's just no need for it.

and to clarify my christmas miracle comment...

i don't expect this to happen. i think what i was trying to say was that for my signal to go through as intended and for the desired response to occur, it would take a 1940's hollywood style gen-u-ine christmas miracle.

is that too much to ask for?


is it to much to hope for?

no. because, as i said hope is apparently inexhaustible for me. although, not in the sense that my christmas is ruined by the absence of miraculous intervention. don't get it twisted. you simply cannot let your happiness depend on things you have no control over.

GODDAMMIT why did my mother make us watch 'it's a wonderful life' every christmas when we were growing up? or 'miracle on 34th st'/'white christmas' for that matter...

the time change is fucking with me. good night.

deep in the heart of texas

waiting at the airport in houston. which is kind of like purgatory, but less exciting.

yes. i tried to order a drink at 5:30 this morning. yes. i got a strange look from the bartender who explained that they can't serve liquour prior to 6am. yes. i was sad about it. yes. i stared at the bartender until 6 on the dot. when she promptly poured my bailey's.

i am currently eating a lunch of potato chips and starbucks caramel brulee latte. i am on a major sugar high. i am going to crash eventually, but at 30,000 feet.

i also sent a very costly signal to the other. to which i do not expect a response. to which it would be unfair of me to expect a response.

but i am hoping for a christmas miracle. the terrible thing about hope is that it springs eternal.

ugh...two more hours and i'm home.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

leeway is the path to all-out disorder ain't fucking kidding.

big ups to some sports blog called 'ball don't lie' for pointing this out. yes. i was reading sports blogs. THAT's just how boring today was. literally nothing happened. even on the internets.

i've never been one for letting things slide. in that sense i am THE rational actor. not in a flexible, preference formation interpretation of rationality. but in the most economic sense possible. the equilibrium path for me has always been the path of least resistance. especially when it comes to relationships.

i have, in the past, practiced a very strict zero-tolerance policy. i've stopped dating, sleeping with, and even speaking to people for the slightest inconvenience. things like using questionable grammar. or ordering the wrong thing in a restaurant. or making a lame joke. or wearing an ugly shirt. or not understanding a word i used. or not picking up the check fast enough.

these things cause me annoyance. if left unchecked, annoyance leads to stress. this is inefficient. and if you let one thing go, then all of the sudden things are building up and then it becomes a big deal.

but apparently love, not casual encounter but L-O-V-E love, is not only ex post inefficient, but ex ante inefficient as well.

in short, love is at all times inefficient except as an ideal type.

what the fuck have i become?

now i'm sitting around listening to sad bastard music and wallowing in quasi-unrequited sentiment. quasi, because this other give exactly enough so that i don't tell them to fuck off. and exactly not enough to make me happy.

and like diana ross said...there ain't nothin' i can do about.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

the kids are (mostly) all right

it's been a bit since i've had time to write. i've been finishing up school things. work things. grading things.

today, at the exam, some of the kids hugged me. which was unexpected. some of them told me thank you for being their TA. and thank you for helping them.

some people complain about students endlessly. but i think that they are all basically good kids. at least to me they were. i like all of them. i like talking to them. i like working on things with them. even if it was the same problem over and over and over again. i like turning international relations theories into high stakes poker metaphors at their request (it works better with some theories than others).

i'm going to miss them. but i get all new ones next quarter. still, some of them i will miss seeing.

i was the happiest when i was with them. even on days when i didn't want to go to class and teach. i always felt better once i got there.

even on days when i was the most saddest.
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