Retrobruxist Friday 3/29/13, or On Being “Desperate” (Now with Norovirus!)

Ugh. Norovirus. Or food poisoning, or something. When I wasn’t exploding from both ends, I was curled up on my pull-out couch with the dogs, moaning. Moaning! I literally moaned for, like, 15-minute stretches. Then I would watch two episodes of How I Met Your Mother, and then I would turn it off so I could moan some more.

Picture me there behind Redford, moaning into his ear. He was very tolerant.
Picture me there behind Redford, moaning into his ear. He was very tolerant.

Seems to be gone now (knock wood). I’m vertical today, and I’ve eaten a banana and some Rice Chex.

In other news, my dad swung through town earlier this week. :)

Talking to my sister on the phone: “Amy picked me up in the middle of the melee at RDU. I was nervous because of the guy on the goddamn lawn mower going back and forth.” (It was a cop on a Segway.)

Amid bon mots, he said something about how I seem, here on the blog, “almost desperate for a relationship”. Isn’t that the worst word to hear about yourself? Desperate? Wasn’t that the ultimate high school take-down? “God, she’s so… desperate.”

But he’s right. I do seem, here on the blog, almost desperate for a relationship. I’d even take out the ‘almost’.

That’s for two reasons. First, both ends of the spectrum, the one that goes from “Victorious Is What Happened” to “Cyclone of Despair”, are compelling, but the middle? Not really, right? The “I Got a Solid Eight Hours So My Day Wasn’t Too Exhausting” and the “Grocery Store, PetSmart, and Home Depot in One Outing—High-five, Me” that make up most of my life, I mean, I’m pretty excited about them, but they make for vanilla reading. So, I’m going to write about the times when I’m either feeling a sense of hope or one of catastrophe. And granted, the latter happens more often and is usually funnier.

So that’s the main thing. You hear about my being desperate to be in a relationship because that’s what’s interesting.

The second thing is that I’m desperate to be in a relationship.

Not desperate. But yeah, kinda desperate. Two reasons, I like companionship, and I want kids. In the post I just linked to, I said I wasn’t an extrovert. But I am. I’m an extrovert. Being around people energizes extroverts (and saps the energy of introverts). I definitely get energy from being with people.

However, I’m shy. People say, “Isn’t that the same as introverted?” No. Shy means I’m scared of people I don’t know. Like, all of them.

I’m scared of people, but I need people—ain’t that the worst?

Anyhow, it’s got me thinking, that’s probably why pretty much all my dating in the last four years has been online. Because I don’t make eye contact with people I don’t know (because I’m scared of them) when I’m out in the real world, so it’s hard to connect. Maybe I should try that? Eye contact? With people I don’t know? My hands are sweating.

**********

Three years ago, I wrote a POWM! I write POWTRY!

Two years ago, 70,000 people heard me tell a story.

A year ago, I was trying to control the controllables. Maybe making eye contact with strangers is controlling a controllable? Or maybe I try a different website. A friend recently sent me this one, which takes a sort of different approach to the whole online dating thing… I’m gonna go lie back down and moan some more.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

A Man Who *Knows*

Every time I spend more than a couple hours with my dad, he gets his ramble on, and I’m reminded that he’s one of the funniest people I know. He came for an overnight visit on Friday, just for the hell of it. In 24 hours, this all happened:

“I should’ve had this winter coat cleaned. It’s all rumpled and looks like hell. Of course, I’m all rumpled and look like hell, so it’s really me.”

*****

[when I showed him a picture I took of him and my dogs] “Yes, I like that picture very much. My arms are bigger than Bruce Willis’s. And my face is obscured which is probably a good thing.”

*****

“A lot of violence. A lot of violence.” [recapping a 90s Dolph Lundgren vehicle he recently found in the bargain bin at Wal-Mart (“$5 for 8 movies on one DVD!”)]

*****

“You’re talking to a man who knows. I mean, he’s talking to you. You’re brushing your teeth.”

*****

I often overhear from another room Dad having conversations with my dogs. A few months back, I caught him explaining the family tree to Violet:

Your mistress is my baby girl.”

This time he mostly talked to ‘Nita, as has already been documented, and to Redford:

“You’re looking well rested this morning.”

And

“You’re a good doggy. …If only you could get me another cup of coffee.”

 

Retrobruxist Friday 1/11/13

HI, GUYS! I’m bored with myself! Tell me what’s new in your lives!

I pointed out some of the more subtle lessons from TV’s Friday Night Lights three years ago.

Two years ago, I went on two dates in one day.

I discovered a year ago that, despite the disaster that is my love life, I was lucky in love. It still is, and I still am. Thank you, loved ones.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

Reasons Why 2012 Was Great, Even Though I Hated It

My friend/coach ATD recently wrote a blog post called 10 Reasons Why 2012 Was Great. When I saw the title but before I read the post, I was like, “OH HELL NO 2012 SUCKED AND I’M SO GLAD IT’S ALMOST OVER PHFTHTHPT.” But I thought about my tendency toward the negative and my attempts to cultivate gratitude, and I figured I’d give it a try. I didn’t think I could come up with 10 things, but maybe five, you know? I jotted down 11 in a matter of minutes.

1. Working with people that I like. If you let me, I’ll bitch all day about my job, but truth is, I’ve never had a better teaching situation, so I’m gonna try to STFU with the complaints.

2. Time with the Scott clan. Particularly my nieces and nephews.

They are hilarious.
They are hilarious.

(The eldest/scribe was concerned that Santa might get his fingers snapped in one of various rodent traps that were… necessary at my dad’s house this year. The cheese in the fridge was fair game, but Mr. Claus seemed to be OK with the pretzel treats and whatnot.)

3. Tubing down the Dan River with my friends. I don’t have any photos because nobody has a waterproof camera. That’s probably a good thing.

4. Doing the Tough Mudder. So great. Also, really, really terrible.

5. The Monti. Hosting, putting my name in the hat, just sitting and listening. I enjoyed it all, and I learned so much each time.

6. Fostering Buffy and Tulip. Buffy’s mommies fostered a male dog after they adopted Buffy and ended up adopting him. Talk about paying it forward! And Tulip’s mommy is—well, I’ll put it this way: I can’t imagine a better situation for her. (Go to Tulip’s Facebook page, and scroll down to her status update for December 7. Tulip’s mommy and I wrote it together.)

7. Wire-Watching Zombie Squad. Four friends and I get together most Sundays and throw ourselves into a big pile on the couch and watch an unhealthy number of episodes of The Wire. And I love it. I just fucking love it.

8. Seeing Reggie Watts live with my buddy Kyle.

Do it if you get the chance.
Do it if you get the chance. It’s an experience like no other.

9. When Margo came to visit. I love Margo.

10. Being a CrossFit Durham athlete. I’m not “in shape” by any standard, but I’m definitely in the best shape of my life, and I’ve made so many new friends there.

Also the fact that Dave lets us go rogue and do ridiculous things. Exhibit A: the enTire Mile, an event conceived of by Shiv, during which six of us, taking turns in pairs, flipped a tractor tire an entire mile. Just for the hell of it.

Six of us flipped a tractor tire an entire mile.
That’s me on the left and Shiv on the right.

11. Costa Motherfucking Rica.

Being me, I also wrote down things that sucked about 2012, and I was startled how few I could come up with:

  • having a career that’s not my calling;
  • being thwarted at our first attempt at the Tough Mudder;
  • suffering from depression;
  • taking two big risks that didn’t end the way I wanted them to; and as a result,
  • still being single.

And, with the exception of the Mudder (which we got to do later), those are Big Things. I’m not going to say they’re not, or that they didn’t suck real, real, real bad. But you know what? There are a lot worse problems than not having your career dreams fulfilled, and my depression is probably a lifetime affliction that I’ll just have to manage, and I learned a lot about myself in the face of failure/rejection.

Moreover, I’m not really single right now, am I? It seems I have a Dutch boyfriend.

Retrobruxist Friday 12/28/12

Hope all you Avid Bruxistists are having a lovely holiday or two or eight nights or however many days Kwanzaa is. Seven, right? Seven. Pretty sure it’s seven.

I just looked it up. It’s seven. Is it me or does the Official Kwanzaa Website need a graphic designer like whoa?

Three years ago… well, I figured out how to turn off the IM function shortly thereafter.

Me, Dad, last-minute shopping at Walgreen’s. Terrible consequences. Two years ago.

I can’t believe it was a year ago that I found this guy. I still get sad about him sometimes. But he meant two 2012 miracles for me. One step back, two steps forward.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

Retrobruxist Friday 11/30/12, or Everything Something Nobody

Hey, visually-oriented Bruxistists, what do you think about the link color? I tried purple, but it didn’t pop. My graphic designer suggested hot pink, but it looked a little too Miami Vice for me. Burnt orange? Does it go with the other colors? If not, what does?

The Mexican braised beef that I cooked(!) is delicioso. I’m eating it in lettuce wraps with radishes and cilantro. The only sad thing is there’s all this nom-nom sauce left over, and it’s begging for a big hunk of bread to sop it up. Drinking it would be frowned-upon, right?

**********

I missed 12% by six-thousandths of a point three years ago. Got it a year later, but what a crock. Getting my National Boards didn’t make me a better teacher. You know what has made me a better teacher? (1) Wanting to become a better teacher, and (2) working with good people who also want to become better teachers. That’s it.

Now I feel kind of trapped by the 12% (#FWP). I can’t move out of my Middle Child Generalist certification area (3rd-6th grades) and keep the salary bump. And I don’t know if I really want to teach Middle Children anymore. Middle Earth Children would be fun.

Adorbz.

I’m certified to teach high school English, but 12%! Ducks, but water. Wah, wah, wah.

**********

About three times a month, somebody tells me I’ve lost weight, like they did two years ago. And five, ten, and twenty years ago. Now I just say, “Huh. I wouldn’t know. I don’t weigh myself.” They usually try to reassure me that their assessment is correct. Then I just look at them and shrug and look baffled. Then they awkwardly walk away. It’s fun.

**********

A year ago, I participated in a CrossFit competition against my cousin. Except that the whole thing happened inside my skull because I’m very crazy. She posted on Facebook recently that she’d gotten her first muscle-up…

Yeah. I’m not ever, ever, ever, ever going to be able to do a muscle-up.

And I’m actually OK with that. I was telling a friend recently that I grew up feeling inferior because my elder siblings were smarter than I was. After therapy and transformational seminars and inspirational quote-of-the-day calendars, I decided that was untrue! I had made it up! Empowerment!!1!

But later, I realized, it is true, and that’s OK.

Because the fact is I’m smart enough AND — they’d tell you this too — neither of my siblings could/would get up and host the Monti StorySLAM, and I can/do. I’d love to be intellectually brilliant like my brother and sister, but I have other talents. So it is with my cousin. Nobody’s good at everything, but everybody’s good at something. Or as my buddy Phil said recently, everything something nobody.

OK me, fine also you, both.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

Oops! Belated Retrobruxist Friday 11/23/12

Holiday schedule! Totally forgot Retrobruxist Friday!

Three years ago, I wrote about the day I earned my freedom. I was just yesterday saying to somebody that, as much as I would like a partner and a family, I realize that going out to Geer Street Garden with my friends on a Wednesday evening — that’s what says freedom to me these days — is a function of being single and childless, and I do appreciate it.

I had one of my rare sex dreams two years ago. <shudder> <not in a good way>

A year ago, I told a parable. You should read it, for learning. But also for the comments afterward which were really funny.

ALSO, I started a tumblr because I know you were dying to know what things on the internet are good.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday (two days late), y’all.

 

Thanks

I’m thankful for dogs
My dogs,
Two foster dogs, and the three mommies who said
Ours
Mine

For my mom who gave me room to make
big mistakes
Look at all that room,
all those mistakes
For Dad, an old dog who tries real hard
to learn new tricks
from his pups

I’m thankful my sister
made a decision to drop out of Bryn Mawr
for some guy
22 years and counting of that guy

I’m thankful my friend humored me and emailed my brother
on his 30th to say
Happy Birthday
and that my brother emailed back

I’m thankful for the little pitchers
the eldest who says Yes
as often and with as much enthusiasm
as her dad (that guy)
for the huggy loud destructive one
for Darfy, even when sharing’s hard
for the one who wrinkles her nose with every Cheese
and the little guy that roars

I’m thankful for Cat, Kate, Cat & Kathleen, Erika & Heather
the Pod
and Zombie Squad
Durhamites, CFDers
Chapel Hill peoples, Seawell School and Lab! Theatre
Cuttyhunk friends
Margo
and Dan New Jersey

I’m thankful for stories
for the Monti, for Jeff
for this
for you
who read
who listen

Thanks

 

Retrobruxist Friday 11/16/12

Redford was just a baby three years ago, and a lil’ goof-bucket. He’s still a goof-bucket, but giant, and an affection bully, busting into your embrace of another dog or another person ’cause what if your love runs out before you get to him? Man, I love that boy.

Some of you have become Dan NJ fans recently. I’ve been president of his fan club for a long time. Two years ago, I wrote about some advice he had given me back when we were roomies in Astoria, Queens. Excellent as the advice was, I extrapolated poorly from it and decided I needed to maintain a dog-shaped space in my house. 

Meh.

I mean, if you set them end to end, you can fit so many dogs into 747 square feet, right? (Yes, this means I’ll probably foster again soon. It’s seemed like there’s one too few pit bulls in my house lately.)

NOTE: There remains a man(or woman!)-shaped space in my bed, for which I’m still recruiting. However, I don’t want to date to do it. I don’t want to email or evaluate prospects. I don’t want to set up dates, go on dates, or follow up after dates. I don’t want any of that. Somebody just come over and get in my bed, for Christ’s sake.

Sometimes I like to think I’m old. About five years ago when I got my first gray pube, I figured life was pretty much in the wrapping-up stage. And a year ago, meeting a cute boy ten years my junior made me start counting my liver spots. 

But the fact is, saying it’s too late, I’m too old, is a racket I’ve been running since I was, like, 12. I think that’s when I decided I was too old to learn to ski.

It’s not too late, really for anything. My grandma started windsurfing when she was 58.

And I’m not actually old. If I start running that line of bullshit again, you have permission to tell me to STFU.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.