go.

My life currently resembles my bedroom: closet door thrown open, clothes strewn across the floor, bed, furniture. Bed sheets tangled in a pile. Books, papers spilling onto the floor around my desk. French course packs, French dictionaries, 501 French verbs thrown into a pile, French papers taped to the wall behind my desk. Old tea bags next to my empty tea cup. Shoes thrown by the door.

But aw hell it's spring break!

I'm still not over my bitching from yesterday. Even though I know that talking with AVH about all of this will make me feel better I also know that something has to change about this and I'm not willing to stick with unless something does change. No excuses.

Also-- I've taken to listening to rap music. I think this is unconsciously "I'm goin' to Jamaica...to make some bad decisions." (oops, there goes my shirt up over my head)

Spring Break A2 2007. You know it.

the big bitch.

This city is filled to the brim with strapping young gentlemen. I could take my pick from a vast array of breeds-- the fratties, the library inhabitants, my dearie co-opers, the displaced from CA (always wearing abundant amounts of clothing), the pre-meds, the pre-laws, the pre-don't-know-what-I'm-going-to-post-graduationers. I could probably even rob the cradle of some froshies. And, if they were drunk enough, or if I were drunk enough, I could probably nab any combination of them on any given weekend evening.

Seriously-- the places you unexpectedly meet babes. It's like grocery shopping. My 367 class in the Natty Sci building was like plucking ripe apples from their branches. Sit in the back of the auditorium and you can scope them out before they even see you, you can track their seating habits. After you have a general sense of their movements you switch to the front so you can peep back and get a decent look at their front. It's a win-win situation.....and who is it that still harasses me because there was some young gentleman I found attractive in that class?
"But LG, how could you possibly think he is cute?!"
"Well, because he kinda looks like me, dontcha think?"

Honestly, in a short two months this plethora of testosterone will be deleted from my life. Poof. Gone. Hasta luago. Au revoir. Um. When, again in my life, will I be surrounded with such a fine assortment of males? This thought is mildly frightening. No more of these pretentious when I raise my hand in class to answer a question I-say-the-same-thing-over-again-3x gentlemen. Those with an average high school GPA of 3.75. When will I ever be surrounded by so many attempted-over-achievers again?

This is all leading up to the big bitch. Just as some people have mastered beer-pong I am in the process of refining my passive aggressive behavior, I am taking the indirect route of complaining in hopes that it will lead to a decreasement in my annoyance. My disclaimer is that I realize there are two sides to this situation (thanks for instilling that quality in me, mum) but it's my blog, it's my life, and therefore I'm only looking at my side under these circumstances. If you have a problem with that you can take it up with my pasty white paranoid American ass.

I can take this. Yes, that's right. I can take it. Look at me go. See me go? I've been doing it. So patiently. So diligently. I've been such a lady about turning down opportunities. The advances of adorable French froshie have been somewhat painfully difficult to avoid. He's.so.damn.little.and.naive.and.cute. Really. Last year, in a heartbeat, I would have invited him to a Owen party. And then I probably would have snogged him. (and then maybe he would have hated me but at least I would have gotten to snog him) Or I would have invited Poli Sci Babe over for a movie and we probably would have cuddled. And good god I could certainly use a good cuddle or snog or a combination of other things. Could it be? I could I possibly be sexually frustrated? (is this what that feels like? ...nahhh it couldn't be.)

Excuses!

It's not that I even really mind. I rant about boys but I still have horses to ride. My irritation spawns from false hopes. Like, I would rather just not know; see, as much as I would like to know it's better that I don't know. SO DON'T FUCKING TELL ME. Please. Really, please. It's more the irritation from this that makes me upset with you. (yeah, yeah even if it's not in your control... but I'm not looking at the otherside so hah! I win.)

AVH-- I want you to tell me. Where is this going anyways? Excuses till 2008? Till I hit grad school, law school, dressage school? Excuses till you go back to the RSA? Is it waiting until the next time I see you? Waiting until someone better comes along? How long am I waiting to figure out what the hell is going on? So what- I'm not being stopped from what I'm going to do but I still wonder about how you fit into all of this. I need something tangible.


Ok I'm finished ranting (for now).

parasites.

I think my pet African stomach worms are becoming unhappy again. Strange.

They seem to have been quite content but as of late they seem to be getting a bit restless.


...or maybe it's just that sushi I ate tonight.

(rumbly tummy)
(or maybe they're just ready for spring break and some sunshine.)

Break.

I'm ready for break. So much for that 'big push' of getting things done before vacation. I'm fizzled.




(and)

I hate the fucking boat.

Red wine.

(as we can guess I stopped bleaching my teeth. That didn't last too long.)


Also, I haven't drunk-written an essay since the RSA. And I must say that the process has not changed one bit: it is not effective for quality production.

[tomorrow I'm going to read this and be like wtf?]


I do not condone quasi-drunk essay writing.


Also, AVH where are you?

Remember when...

For old times sake Scurvy and I spent an evening at The Dude. Seriously, we're talking about going back at least 3 years. We were like the over-achiever froshies, passing our Friday's and Saturday's at The Dude until the wee hours of the morning. Heck, we practically lived there. Of course, that was when I was taking math classes, but whatever.

There was that one time that I made Scurvy give some guy my phone number because he looked like Harry Potter and I had the hots for Harry Potter. Or the one time we ordered a pizza, for delivery...to the library. The countless hours pounding through algebraic equations and thingy-majiggies-I-can't-remember-their-names-matrices. Torture. Like getting your wisdom teeth pulled, except worse because it extends over 15 weeks.

This evening at The Dude felt like a good way to close out what culminated to be a day of filled with academia. I've had the deer in the headlights syndrome since 5pm this evening. I've had a brain surge of PhD goodness. Fuck, am I really going to get a PhD? I was actually just aiming for a Masters, but hell, why do a Masters when you could do a PhD? It's totally American-- why take less when you could take more? I can supersize my mind.

Ok, actually, I never really thought that doing a PhD would be something I would be able to do but after this AP-gives-you-lots-of-free-food-and-things-seminar I'm starting to think that perhaps it's not such a bad idea if I can muck through the politics of departmental socializing. Um, I mean, if I don't fail French class which would consequently ruin my GPA which would therefore lessen my chances of into getting into a good program. Right.

Or, actually, maybe I'll just move to Africa.

self torture.

I've given up drinking tea and coffee for 1.5 weeks in order to bleach my teeth. Like, what? Who knows.

After my French exam on Wednesday I had a mental breaking point-- that being, my brain thought it was Friday. C'est tout, the end, fini. I put in so many hours that my brain has stopped functioning.

Last night I had a dream about Little R. It was all fine and normal, we were at a horse show and he was on stall rest. I was doin' my thing when I suddenly see him running loose. Of course no one else can catch him. He runs up to me. We walk back to his stall, meanwhile I have a conversation with him about how it's bad for him to run on his hurt leg... and then he started talking to me. It was quite interesting. He didn't have any big complaints-- just that he felt as though I was not giving him adequate attention.

AVH is apparently coming North in approximately 8 or 9 or 10 days. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to believe him, especially since I haven't spoken with him in 3 or 4 or 5 days (they all seem to blend together).

Also, who ordered all of this snow? It is making it very difficult for me to ride my bike to campus. I'll have to put in a kind request for some sunshine and warm temperatures.

Can you feel the love tonight?

Last night I had a dream that I was taking my French test [maybe I shouldn't consider that a dream, maybe I should consider it a nightmare?] and then my alarm went off and woke me up and I was somewhat frightened. Needless to say I will be a much happier camper after 11am tomorrow.

Also, I had a discussion with Jin about how girls say things but they're really lying. So when we say we don't want anything special we really do... and then we get mad if nothing special happens. It really makes no sense at all.

And...

thank you for the flowers AVH... tu es étonnant! : )

.....surprise? (!)

Tonight AVH announces to me that he has quit his job and will be in Michigan in a mere 13 days to visit me for approximately one week.

um, excuse me?

It hasn't quite hit me.

Dear Life,

Looming post-graduation is becoming less unsettling and more pleasant. Planning ahead (even if it's just in pencil) is comforting.

Mr. Future Olympian Employer shall certainly assume the position of Future Employer. They send their regards, "thank you for your persistence." (2 phone calls, 3 emails, and one important looking piece of mail later) I have more ducks to get in a row than one would imagine (not only for myself but for an equine as well) and the job description is somewhat intimidating...but this is something I have been wanting to do for more than 3 years now-- so what's the big deal to committing one year to it?

Right.

On that remark, Little R has sustained an injury of sorts to his left hock. It's noticeably swollen and has heat. Argh. I stuck him on the lunge line, he showed no signs of lameness but I refrained from riding him lest it make the situation worse.

And if things could unfold any more oddly-- I saw my guardian angel tonight (or maybe it was just a ghost, but my gut doesn't believe that) ...and it was... I can't really explain it... wow?



[um French test this week....]

words. (like udder)

I think I've spent approximately 4 hours working on various French assignments...and I'm not thinking in French yet. Anyhow, I think I'm becoming delusional. Perhaps that's why as I'm reading this article sur la seconde guerre mondiale I unconsciously began to feel that I would have been one of those femmes. I'm fully aware of this. I would have been the French woman who would have hooked up/fell in love with the German soldier. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I've been spending more time with HC lately. He's a decent pseudo-replacement for AVH but in some ways our type of relationship, although satisfying often leaves me more frustrated-- but mostly in the fact that sometimes I just want to cuddle or kiss or hold hands. Therefore: AVH, where the hell are you? I request in a most urgent manner that you replace HC (please don't take it personally HC, you know I adore you in different ways) on an almost permanent, regular basis. Please? Your lady would be most obliged to acquiesce to your wishes.

Tonight I was trying to tell B about this disorder we learned about in 240 last semester-- please don't ask me why we were learning about psychological things in an English class at 8:30am. Yeah, whatever. Maybe that's why I can't remember the name of the disorder. It's like OCD but it's not OCD-- very similar. Anyhow, I think I experience this disorder (like I experience every-other-disorder-known-to-man). So my disorder is that I always pick guys who are far away and then I run in circles with it. Was it Rubes who said: "LG, the only type of relationship you can be in is one where you never see the guy because otherwise you get too annoyed with seeing him all the time." Gee, thanks. I choose to interpret that as a compliment. Parallel to this, B had enlightening input on this circular-attachment-thingy:
B: I think it's called complete and udder madness.
L: udder? Isn't that on a cow?
B: sure, I dunno, utter?
L: that was awesome, you just made my night.
B: it's definitely not a "baglike organ containing the mammary glands" type of madness... or is it?

Well B, that's a damn good question. I look forward to a boozin' Friday night with delicious food, fruit smoothies, mad libs (?), and talking about our crazy lives.

Also, I haven't been able to ride since last Friday. That's a bummer. My ponies shall be bundles of energy. Ohh powerful hindquarters how I look forward to harnessing you into doing some lateral work. (leg yields, perhaps?)

I might as well add in the mix-mash of things, I've come in acquaintance with a certain gentleman named Rob... he who seemingly knows my life. This is what he had to tell me today...

(first, I would like to make a disclaimer that I do not take pride in posting such items in my blog space; however, it feels appropriate to include this. I promise it won't happen often.)

"You've been walking the ocean's edge, holding up your robes to keep them dry," writes Coleman Barks in his translation of the 13th-century poet Rumi. What he means is that you've been too tentative and inhibited in your relationship with the tidal forces of love; you've been holding back from giving your total devotion to the primal power that fuels the universe. "You must dive naked under and deeper under," Barks and Rumi continue, "a thousand times deeper!" Consider taking the poets' advice, Virgo. If you can't manage diving a thousand times deeper, try to least make it a hundred times. Happy Valentine Daze!" [http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/virgo.html]

Did I mention that I'm bracing myself for another crappy V-Day? The difference is that this year I actually have a boyfriend... at least last year Martin and I had a mutual adoption to celebrate with each other. This year? No such luck. (except maybe pretend heart shaped pizza with Jin.)

wise words.

[from the eldest.]

"What I'm supposed to do next. It's still dramatically undecided. See, that's all that we really want. Security, comfort, the desire to be desired and the need to know. There is that part of me that recognizes how safe security is, yet it's giving up the discovery of travel. Yet with the background, you have seen too much. Now you are tainted, so you can never stay content in that safe world painted by our fathers. We are expected to go there, even if its a contradiction. Many will smile and congratulate you on your joy ride, proclaiming how lucky you are! Certainly you will have had a "once in a lifetime experience!" And swearing they will miss you while you are gone. You know better, now. You try to stay, and quickly see that's not the formula. You've done your time. Your 3 months, 2 days. You've played. "Played." But you can't jump the wrong way and stay. You CAN'T. Don't you see, it's not the formula. You won't be able to get back in. Or you will, but nothing will have changed except you, and you can't inject the others with that. So you will make your choice: you will return to a haven of familiarity and enclosed and repressed discoveries, memories locked away and visited privately. Or, you will go. You will forget the rest, forget their weird looks incapable of connection or identification, ignore maybe a hint of jealousy at their security (of course YOU are jealous of THEM), and carry on to the better but more difficult place where you will be more satisfied. But it's only because you know. And what would have happened if you had never known?"

-JR

Also, because this makes me feel better about myself.

KT--
hey. your comment made me laugh because i was actually going to ask you about SFB1. i spent a majority of last year in africa so i feel out of the loop on things and thought perhaps you had some dirt.

btw, hows school going? almost finished?

---------

LG--
SFB1 is the biggest creep of all time. he like thought he was my boyfriend and would drive all the way from where ever the hell he was from and wait outside my house until i got home from lacrosse and like stalk me, my mom said she came home and saw him walking around the side of the house. he even came down to dayton claiming he was going to visit friends at MofO and wanted to just stop in and say hi but instead he like tried to spend the night and like waited in the lobby of my dorm and even called my room and pretended to be a pizza delivery person with a pizza for me. i had security get rid of him and he slept in his car outside my dorm and left in the morning and i havent spoken to him since. weirdo. africa sounds interesting how was it? i'm finishing up in the next year. thank you god.




[and that, my friends, is how the story ends.]

[it's ok SFB1, I always knew I was too good for you anyways.]

Week--end in review.

Spent a long weekend babysitting a house, a tiny yip dog, and a squeeky guinea pig. I indulged myself with chai tea lattés compliments of the Cocomotion (brilliant invention) and a fruit basket full of mini watermelons, grapefruits, and Florida oranges. S-bear spent much of the weekend with me, I think my laziness rubbed off on her. Nonetheless we never got sick of each other, seeing as that we are both already experiencing the winter-cold-of-misery.

Speaking of cold, it's dang cold here. This morning as I was returning to the mother city a sign read -2F! Oy. The cold has halted any horse riding endeavors, I even cancelled lessons. Spent more than an hour at the barn last night pounding ice out of waterbuckets. The joys of one's own passion, dedication can be a bitch.

AVH departed for the great island of Barbados yesterday. He rang me before he left, excited to be back out on the sea, joking about how an engine propeller fried itself that very morning (please honey, don't burn the boat down). Lovely. Every time he leaves somewhere (which happens quite often) I get this different feeling of missing him. There must be something about being on the move... or maybe it's just that I can no longer send him SMSs.

I'm trying to combat the unsociability of Mr. Future Olympian Employer by sending him a piece of very important looking mail. I have become determined to land this position, but mostly because of lack of any other idea on what the hell I'm supposed to do when I graduate (although, I would be content with just about any big name).

Besides that, maybe I'll be a little more motivated in AP this week?

I think I'm sick.

Of winter.

Actually, I seem to have come down with an infection of the throat. You know, the kind where your esophagus constricts itself so that you think the only things you can swallow are pea size or smaller. In my efforts to prevent greater sickness I have tried to increase: consumption of tea to at least 6 cups per day, consumption of orange juice to at least 3 glasses, and vitamin intake. And sleep, I want lots of sleep.

I'm also sick of not knowing what the a;lknawel;krjnkn I'm going to do when I graduate. Mr. Olympian has very eloquently ignored (??) my emails and phone calls. I would like to think that even if the answer is "no" that he would at least get back with me so that I can get on with my life and find someone else (better).

Michigan. I want to go somewhere warm. Snow = no more fun. And, Sunday it's supposed to be 6 degrees F. Like, excuse me?

Also, L2. I wish she would just go away.