In which we begin again.

It has been a very weird winter here in the Windy City! Yesterday I was laying around the flat with my sister and she mentioned that one month ago had been Christmas Eve, which is shocking because Christmas Eve seems like a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. I have been working working working working at the office, but now, in a one month late Christmas present, school starts today.


I am alternately dreading the thought of/excited for the season premiere of school. I have two writing classes & one reading about writing class. I have been feeling desperately uninspired lately so I am hoping that new assignments and new books to read will galvanize me into writing again. When I read something fantastic, I am always inspired to put finger to the keyboard again, in hopes of writing something equally fantastic. So now it's second semester, and I am a little "over" grad school. I am not quitting. I think I am just second guessing myself. I hold a gold medal in second guessing; I won it on a particularly unfruitful and indecisive shopping trip during the 2008 Olympics.

Depicted on the medal is the Greek God Descisio, ordering his servants to bear him

hence to his villa so he can mope about not buying the sandals that he really wanted.

In related news, I have this mammoth overdue fine at the public library, so I justify new book purchases as career research.


Yesterday I happened upon a former friend of mine critiquing my work. I was browsing through the archives of a community we used to host together and there she was saying I got too bogged down in descriptions & details, and that I was trying (as in, trying too hard) to be a writer. I wasn't even hurt or upset because she was right, I was, though I don't feel that I'm that way anymore. I think I have a talent, and I just have to learn how to move it along and funnel it correctly into something readable. Which, grad school, I guess that's where you come in.

In other news, I am very excited about the spring premiere of:

1. LOST. Final season oh man oh man.
2. Nowhere Boy, a good lookin movie about John Lennon the teddy boy.

In which I wish I had posessed the foresight to buy a hat.

I am living on the ice planet Hoth right now.

So how was Christmas, how was New Year's? My life was a ridiculous dream for 2+ glorious weeks. I had a long romantic train ride home, a flurry of baking and present wrapping, a luxious morning, a long drive, a foot of snow (seriously it just would not quit), doughnuts and cookie baking, sledding for hours, family baking intermurals, two delicious dinners, endless movies, showers of presents, laid-back days of work, free chocolates... the list goes on and on.

New Year's was pretty cool too.

Needless to say, I am loath to leave the wonders of the holidays. Yesterday (it being Epiphany and all) I took down my Christmas tree, which is my least favorite holiday chore. I don't mind so much the work as I mind the depressing reality of post-Christmas times. I know that everyone is obsessed with the commercialization of the holiday but to me it remains sparkling and magical and a complete wonderland of delights. It is the only time of the year that I feel unabashed in acting like a complete giddy child and basically annoying everyone in my family by constantly singing at the top of my lungs. I would not lose that for the WORLD. You can bet your bottom dollar that it will always be said of me that I know how to keep Christmas so suck it.

Anyway I am not yet engaged in the full hatred of snow. I am still enamored of its charms and wintery delights, though I do need to purchase a hat. Preferably one with ear flaps because though I will look like a complete lumberjack, I will at least be a complete lumberjack with warm litle earsies.

Yikes, this is not what I had in mind.

In which my pens have all turned to inksicles.

TRUE LIFE: I love cold weather.

Oh, that? That's just steam rising off the lake (the picture is from the Trib), you know, normal stuff. I saw the same thing coming off the Chicago River on my way to work via Brown Line this morning.

Yessir, when I stepped out of my flat this morning, I took a deep breath of cold winter air and immediately felt my lungs freezing in my chest. The gangway was covered with a semi solid (but ALL dangerous) layer of ice and crispy frozen snow. The gate was locked in the icy embrace of winter. The sky was a hard porcelain blue. I slipped and nearly died about fourteen times down the block to the bus stop. And the whole time, I was fucking thrilled.

I confess. I'm one of those dirty no good low down winter loving commies. Everytime you're wishing for a heat wave in December, I'm fervently undoing all your hard work by praying for a blizzard. I get geeked when I see snow falling, to the point where I'm acting like a hyped up preschooler confronted with a pile of Sugar Daddies.

But you already knew this, since I've previously confessed my love affair with weather.com. I did forget to mention my main man, Tom Skilling, the bald panther of meteorologists, and the only one I trust to... well, I can't think of a weather innuendo, but the man is an adonis.

Anyway, yesterday was the close of my first semester of graduate school. I celebrated by not working on that twenty page paper hanging over my head, just another day in the life of a grad student, which just brings me one inch closer to leaving the warm comfortable womb of academia. There was an email sent out about thesis projects and I was like psssssht. Then I was like shit that will soon apply to me better get thinkin.

This picture is so accurate it's scary. I mean, I have a job and an apartment and a life (read: a cat) (read: no just kidding I meant a life) and everything, but something about the comforting familiarity of traditional school really makes my life complete. I shudder to think how I will operate without it. No professors? No assignments? No activities conveniently separated into two hour periods? No MLK Day holiday?  The world is a dark and scary place out there.

So in sum: Chicago is entrapped in the maw of a deadly winter cold, I adore snow, grad school schmad school, and I also love Tom Skilling.

in which it most certainly does not snow!

So this is the most wonderful time of the year. By which of course I mean the time that I become obsessed with weather.com. Right around the beginning of November, weather.com becomes my homepage, and checking it turns from casual curiosity to unhealthy addiction. As I write this, weather.com is preparing for its third round of weather predictions for me today.

Unlike nearly every other resident of the Midwest, for me, there is nothing quite like waking up to see the streets covered in a blanket of white amnesia-y snow. Just smelling the cold on the air gets me going in a manner that most people reserve for seeing their S.O. after a month or two of seperation: the fast paced heart, the fluttering hands, the breathless excitement, that warm, delightful almost-peeing-yourself-you're-so-happy feeling! That is me when the first flakes make their dutiful touchdown on the cold pavements of the city.

I am probably one of ten people in Chicago right now UNHAPPY about the unseasonable warmth that we are experiencing right now. Oh, because I'm afraid of global warming? Well, okay, touche, but also because I desperately want snow. I am on tenterhooks here, literally on tenterhooks! I can't sit down because I keep getting up to look out the windows & check for snow clouds. The weather channel is my morning. And I keep wearing my winter coat, half out of quiet misguided hope that this choice will somehow have an effect on the weather. (The other reason for wearing a winter coat is because 50 degrees and sunny does not mean soul crushing wind.)

Before anyone asks: no, I do not have to drive in the snow. No, I do not have a walkway to shovel. No, I do not have a predisposition for colds. But I will gladly a. drive you around, b. shovel your walkway, and c. make you a daily soup of your choice if it means that I will have snow N-O-W.


The only good that comes of an EL NINO CHRISTMAS is Chris Farley.*

"I am El Niño! Which is Spanish for... the... Niño!"

And even then, that might not be enough. In matters of seasonal temperatures, I have always found it wise to use one of the most famous addages from Poor Richard's Almanack as a rule of thumb: "If I can go rollerblading on Christmas Day, it's time for some goddamn snow."

In a related story, I really need new jeans. Preferably ones that don't require the employment of the tried and true rubberband-around-the-ankles trick to get them to fit in my boots.




I bet I can fit one more round of OREGON TRAIL in before quittin time! I love Friday.

*(Sometimes when I try to write Chris Farley's name, I end up writing "Christ" Farley. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.)

in which the saga continues.

If you like playing quest-y RPG games, and you would like to experience playing on in real life, just lose your wallet. Soon your life will be like a quest.

As a Peasant, you live in a pleasent fifedom of relative safety and security--until a band of armed robbers steal your most prized possession, [WALLET]. This sends you into a fit of tears/uncontrollable rage, mediated only by frantic phone calls to your mother, who works things out with the bank and is able to set up appointments for you to recieve a new driver's lisence.

Soon after this dastardly display of thievery, a [WIZARD] appears to comfort you. He reveals that there is a way to get [WALLET] back, but it will require a great deal of work on your part.

Do you accept his quest?
>>Yes
>>No



Yes? GREAT. [WIZARD] tells you that to reconstruct [WALLET] you will need to collect several key objects.

Wait. Did he say reconstruct? You just wanted [WALLET] returned to you.

[WIZARD] laughs. You are a fool. There is no way to get [WALLET] returned to you unless it is found by someone with a good and pure heart feels sorry for whatever rube doesn't check their purse 15x every minute to see if [WALLET] is inside. And the chance of that happening can best be described like this: slim to none. So your only choice is to reconstruct [WALLET]. And you already said you would so you're locked into this deal anyway.

[WIZARD] presents you with an itimized list. It is as follows:
>> 1. new [DRIVER'S LISENCE]
>> 2. new [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD]
>> 3. new [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]
>> 4. new [WALLET]
>> 5. new [STUDENT ID]
>> 6. new [UPASS]

Here is the catch. In order to purchase [WALLET], you will need [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get to a place to purchase [WALLET], you will need [UPASS]. In order to get [UPASS], you need [STUDENT ID]. In order to get [STUDENT ID], you need to take the train, which requires [UPASS], and you will need $$, which requires [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] since your $$ was in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you will need to go to the bank which is conventiently located in the far fifedom of [GODDAMN INDIANA]. In order to get to [GODDAMN INDIANA] you need [UPASS] and [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you need to prove your identity, requiring [DRIVER'S LISENCE] and/or [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD], both of which were in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get a new [DRIVER'S LISENCE] you must prove your identity, which requires [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD] and/or [STUDENT ID].

[WIZARD] flees the scene, laughing at your inability to solve your problems. You are left crying in the dust.

THE END.

Play again?
>>Yes
>>No

in which I go into a tailspin

So yesterday my wallet got stolen.

AWESOME.

Looking in your empty purse is probably about the worst feeling in the world.

It really isn't that bad (except for one glaring hideous fact which will be described in greater detail later). I don't have any credit cards, just one debit card that I immedietly put a stop on. My library card, school ID card, health insurance card, and my upass were also in there... which also sucks, but are all replacable. The upass is probably the worst of the lot, since it takes 5-7 days to get a new one (!!!) and costs $35 (!!!!!!). My driver's lisence was in there, but that is also replacable. And fortunately I was headed back to Indiana anyway this weekend to see my brother's show.

AND ALL THAT WOULD NOT BE SO BAD. Except my social security card was in my wallet.....



This is the glaring hideous fact that I mentioned earlier, in case you weren't aware.

So I am not one of those fools that just blindly travels her merry way with her trusty social security card in her wallet. I keep it safely hidden inside a hollow book. Just kidding, I wish I had a hollow book. But the only reason I had it with me was because they had to make a copy of it at work so I could, you know, get paid. And of course it was the day that my wallet was stolen... or something.

I feel like I have to add the OR SOMETHING becuase I don't really know. I was at Starbucks buying a chai for lunch. I went over to the cream counter to stuff my cash (a whole two dollars!) back into my wallet... then I sat down and drank my chai and did a crossword. Then I went back to work. No one bumped into me or anything like that. My purse was with me the whole time. It was hanging on my chair, but it was pressed against the wall and I totally would have noticed someone rooting around in it. I didn't realize the wallet was missing until about four o'clock when I went to balance my check book.

But like I said, it's the goddamn socical security card that is the absolute worst facet of this whole debacle. Missing social security cards are forever. I will always have to be worried about this forever and ever and ever amen. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

Fuck you, thief.

in which isn't she loverly?

so this afternoon, I went to the Fortnightly Club for lunch. oh you know, just this little out of the way place, luncheons and talks and afternoon teas.

seriously it was totally ridiculous. the luncheon was hosted by the Friends of American Writers organization, a whole gang of really sweet ladies who love literature and love to support it. they awarded me their annual scholarship through Roosevelt, so I got to go to lunch with them and give a little thank you speech. yikes.

this morning I got up and got dressed and went to work per the usual. at lunch, I got all sophisticated, just jumped into a cab and zoomed off to Belleview place, and got out at the delightful little cottage to your left.

I felt like friggin Eliza Doolittle or something. chandeliers everywhere. dumbwaiters and guys in waistcoats bowing you into the doors (I am being mostly serious here.) at the tables, the place settings had the usual intimidating three forks. all these little old ladies in hats kissing cheeks. three course lunch and cake and coffee afterwards. I concentrated on not spilling cranberries and yams in my lap and tried to remember what I'd planned to say when the time came to accept my award.

the president of the club gave a nice introduction. the other award recipient talked first. she was very eloquent and gracious and I admired the ease of the way she thanked everyone. so when it was my turn, I stumbled up to the mic and talked about how greatful I was, how I'd wanted to be a writer since the sixth grade, my first story about star-crossed lovers and a haunted fort (which got me laughs), and how touched I was that people support my work, even people I don't know yet.

I know, sappy, right? but shhh, I really did mean it, every word. every time someone says "hey I like what you wrote", it's like Happy Birthday to Me. I just can't believe that people are that interested in me. it's easy to get caught up in yourself and write only for you. I have a hard time showing my work to other people, not because I'm snooty or stingy or even embarrassed. I just hate bragging. so when people, beyond prompts, just appreciate my work... it's a big warm honor that I don't think I will ever get used to.

then after all that serious business, I went to the bathroom and proceeded to fall down the stairs, but recovered with my usual poise and grace and nervous laughter. She is Saint Mary's.

anyway it was great, and a "real writer" moment. by which I mean the award, not the falling down the stairs thing. and hopefully a sign of more things to come.

in other news, I finished my second piece of fiction for workshopping. not at all what I expected. while riding on the train to work, I became inspired by Fleet Foxes. check them out if you don't already know the secret. they are brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, especially "White Winter Hymnal". I am literally obsessed with that song, I daily put it on repeat and ride the rails around the Loop.

what else what else.... I'm trying to polish something for the AWP Intro Journal  competition.... I dunno if I'll make it to the deadline but I am hoping. maybe Medusa will go.

yikes, life. I love you.