Long overdue update

Strange how when you encounter an old friend, you aren't sure where to start. Do you tell them about how school is going? Do you explain the ins and outs of dating various people? Do you rant about your anxiety surrounding your music, your dreams, your shoe collection and your finances? Most likely, you just crack a few light jokes and exchange witty remarks until the conversation finds itself. Eventually the most relevant topic will find it's way up to the surface, shimmying through the stops and pulls of uncertainty.
My friends are having babies. My friends are getting married. My friends are working as lawyers and chiropractors. My friends are getting dogs. My friends are successfully caring for houseplants.
This makes me throw my hands up in the air and think...how am I doing as an adult so far? I'm still in school. I'm working as a tutor. I'm living in my own place. I sometimes remember to do the dishes. I neglect my vacuum cleaner. It's these moments of evaluation and re-evaluation that reminds me that we are all on different paths. Talking to a friend at a party made me think about this whole having babies thing. I always felt bad that I never wanted my own baby. I have never once thought it would be fun to be pregnant. I'm really good at caring for babies that already exist but I've never thought it would be a wildly great idea to have one of my own forever and ever. He got divorced because he did not want to have a baby and his wife at the time did. His reasoning was that our global framework was falling apart and that he didn't want to bring a child into this world. I can't imagine how she must have felt if she had this mysterious urge to have a child that I hear about. Knowing that my body could bring forth life fills me with pride and dread. I don't want that power. I wonder why he told me about this, staring at me intently. I noticed that the top of his left ear was slightly square, that he had a pair of small moles on his neck. I wondered what he looked like as a baby.
There's never really any denoument to my musings. I wish I came to conclusions more often but I'm often left with question marks and the feeling that I've said what I need to say without necessarily getting anywhere.

Perfect.

Sometimes, perfect sneaks up on you. It can come after you've been circling the airport, after a day of fruitless job searches and traffic on the 405. It springs up out of nowhere and leaves you smiling with a snoozing Sean curled around you in that new familiar way.

Oh, the not really irony

Just when I started to feel like a grown up while grilling up some bratwurst for Sean and some Boca dogs for myself, I realized that Sean had plopped himself on the couch and was playing Super Mario Brothers. Not that I don't love the dulcet sounds of the Nintendo, but I did find it vaguely humorous that I was the barefoot girl in the kitchen to his video-game playing guy. He did appear to enjoy the bratwurst though as I found him passed out face first on my bed after eating dinner. I figured either he loved the food or I had killed him. Upon climbing into bed, I discovered it was the former.

The catch now is that I am waiting for him to call me, or im me, or text me because we are in the midst of an imbalance of free time. I have all the free time, he has none. This makes me want to contact him all the time because I can and I have the feeling that this is slightly irritating (ie obnoxious and stupid). Therefore, I am using my not so abundant patience to sit it out and let him call me even though I am DYING to know if he's coming over so I can figure out what to cook next. In the meantime, an ex I don't even like has imed me to tell me that he's hanging out with a girl I don't much like either.

He imed me, meaning I win at life.

When did I turn into such a girl? Vacation from school does strange things to my brain.

Duckfeet

I love my neighborhood. Right now, there are sparkly men in hotpants just marching their way down my street and I can hear singing and cheering from my window. Sure, I am in my room with soggy hair in a bathrobe after a post-work out shower, but it delights me that my neighborhood is swelling with gay pride...and bi pride...and trans pride. Pride for everyone!

This is a nice break from the media circus that erupted when Paris Hilton was released from jail and subsequently yanked back in by a pissed off judge. Doesn't everyone know that you don't go against a judge's orders? Come on, Sheriff Baca, even I knew that. Plus, after my 2 quarters of my masters program, if Paris is suicidally depressed, a stay in her own bed and a cupcake isn't gonna fix it (that's a big statement coming from a cupcake enthusiast). Mainly, my interest in this whole stupid debacle is that fact that I have been losing sleep due to the sound of helicopters buzzing around my neighborhood. Fine, I get it, Paris Hilton lives right up the street but that doesn't mean I want my walls to vibrate at 8am. I'm just glad she's back in jail so I can get some rest.

Now that I am on a brief break from school, I've been going on adventures. My favorite one lately was an early afternoon stop to the Treat Street roving Silverlake bakery. I had my very first praline and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Check out their blog... Treat Street.

I've also realized that I have a few favorite homeless people in LA. This sounds strange and condescending at first but there are a few people that stick around in the same spots and become a part of the local scenery. For instance, I love the 80's acid-washed finger-in-a-light-socket-hair guy that is frequently on the payphone at La Cienega and Santa Monica Blvd. His leg scarves are hilarious and his outfits have become increasingly ridiculous. There is also the Roller-skating Dance Star on Robertson between 3rd and Burton Way. He is often found wearing lyrca with his hair in a ponytail and he shakes his booty to his boombox. Sometimes when he needs a change of pace, he skates in circles around the nearby gas station. What's not to love?

This is what I've been up to

Most adorable sleepysmile face...good lord. He even changes lightbulbs and smooshes spiders. Bestill my beating little cupcake heart.

Asterisks of enjoyment

*Played my first show with my amazing band and had the most fantastic time ever. Xylophone solo! Melodica solo! Banging out chords while people cheer!
*First therapy session for school. It went well but my god is it pricey It gives me hope that I am sane and that I will earn gobs of money for practicing therapy in the future which will get me over the psychological trauma of being a broke grad student with an entitlement issue.
*Started seeing a divorced man. This is a first.
*Got together with the ex from last spring. This is so not a first. We are made of awesome hilarity and awkwardness. He causes me so much joy and angst. Right now, we are in the joy zone so we're all good.
*Aborted dating a 6'5 guy because at first I felt like I was dating a tree. I later found out that he kissed like he was attempting to Hoover my face and that his manhood was smaller than some of my high heels.
*Drank absinthe for the first time. I only had two sips and felt like I was filled with the most amazing glowing goodness. A few friends had more and danced around the room then had no recollection of about half an hour of the evening.
*Got an acoustic guitar that smells vaguely like wine which makes me happy every time I play it. It makes me feel like Joni Mitchell for no good reason.

Angsty McStupidhead

The least palatable realizations come later in the evening, when I've had a good amount of time to stew alone. The revelation that I am in fact inessential to the lives of most, even those I care about, is deeply saddening and relieving all at once. There is nothing I can do to change this fact, which sets me into mild panic mode. There is nothing I can do about this, which instantly relaxes me. I cannot make him care about me. I can deal with it when he's calling me in the middle of the night. I can deal with it when he's messaging my dates online. I can deal with it when he's telling me I'm demanding. I can deal with it when he tells me he's busy. I can deal with it when he breaks my heart. I cannot deal with being ignored by him or by anyone else for that matter. The reason I want him to pay attention to me is because he's not, simple as that. It's vastly irritating that just when I think this stupidity is behind me then he appears and it's like just add water then *POOF* insta-lame-ass-drama. You know it's got to be lame with lame sauce because I am writing about it in my blog. It's not real angst unless it's on the internet.