I am going to have the biggest hangover tomorrow

So basically, I've been drinking since 11:00am. It is now 1:32am, just to let you guys know.

Today was my cousin Billy's first Communion. And even though I identify more as Pagan now, WHATEVER, it's still a beautiful day. And I can get behind the ideas of unity, love, and family and community, all of the point of 1st Commmunion.

So it's the Dakes side of my family. I love them. They are the best. It's about FAMILY and LAUGHTER and LOVE, people. And if you know my family, it's also about BEER.

Oh my god, today was an insane day. And we had many political arguments (I am the sole liberal here) and many emotional tears were shed, but let me tell you:

I love my family. They always make me strive to be better than I can be. It is them who I wish to make proud more than anyone. Man, my grammar is awesome.

I hope today finds you just as happy drunk as I am. I love you all.

No good updates, just some cat photos

Things are...weird here. I'm kind of in a funky place right now as I try to move on from Brisket, figure out my spirituality, finishing my thesis (KILL ME), fighting with the financial aid office (KILL ME AGAIN), and overcoming my dental phobia to get some much needed work done.

I mean, I'm fine and everything. More than fine, actually, it's just nothing particularly blog worthy so I thought I would entertain you with some pictures of the cats. I've been getting an itchy trigger finger lately, after a long winter photography hiatus. Hopefully in a few days I will have something a bit more substantial to show you, but in the meantime, it's Krazy Kat Lady Photos!

It occurs to me that many of you have not met Gary's cats, Kayla and Galahad. Here they are:



This is Kayla. She's a pretty pretty princess.



This is Galahad. He's a cat that looks like Hitler.



And, of course, Dill. You guys remember Dill:



But do you remember him like THIS:



Look. At. How. FAT. I know. This fattiness is in direct result of living with Kayla and Galahad, because he eats their food too. See, prior to living with Kayla and Galahad, I was able to control Dill's food. He'd get 1/4 cup of kibble in the morning (which he'd scarf down) and a 1/4 cup of kibble in the evening (also horked down). Dill couldn't handle having a constant supply of kibble. He'd just gorge himself all the livelong day. I think this because of Dill being a rescue kitty and from living on the streets and not knowing where his next meal would come from. But now with Kayla and Galahad (who were raised by hand by Gary and thus used to constant attention and regular meals), we have food in the bowl all the time. So Dill plunks himself in front of it and EATS. It's gotten so bad that we now try to limit how much food is given (1 scoop in the morning, slightly smaller scoop in the evening) just so Dill won't turn into the subject of this painting.

(Which Stephanie says he already is, but never mind that.)

Since limiting their food intake in this way, the dinner scenes have turned into this:



CARNAGE. Also, uh, our floor isn't really that dirty. It's a trick of the camera. Only maybe it is that dirty? Because Galahad is odd and loves water so he splashes it up and out of the bowl and it catches crumbs of food and makes an orange-y paste and then he ROLLS in it, adding fur to the mix?

These cats, I tell you. They're fucking weird.



A totem pole of kitties! Plus a gnome. And some nekkid ladies.

Gary will be pissed at this photo, because he doesn't like cats on table surfaces. I don't mind them chilling on end tables or coffee tables, I just have issues with the kitchen table and counter. Meanwhile, both of Gary's cats regularly get caught on the kitchen table and Gary is more than OK with Galahad being on the kitchen counter to get water from the sink (which, he says, is the only solution to Galahad's water fetish). Now you tell me which one of us has it skewed. Then again, Dill is a little piss pot, so who am I to talk?

One last photo of Dill, to showcase his chubby cheeks:



I might as well apply for spinster status now.

Whosiness

Stephanie and I finally got together to watch the Easter Doctor Who Special "The Planet of the Dead," which was cracky good fun. Easter Special led to mini marathon of S1 Who and ultimately me uttering the following epic sentence: "He's all just a big head now, he doesn't have an anal!" Stephanie's amusement at this specimen of the English language is infinite.

ANYWAY, the trailer for the next special looks so effing awesome, I can't stand it.



I love it when Who gets dark and creepy. And what with the cloister bell and the screaming? SIGN ME UP.

And not Who-related, but also dark and creepy:



Holy shit, you guys. WHY IS IT NOT JULY?

"We lost our voice."

Since before I was born, Harry Kalas has been the announcer for the Phillies.

When I saw my first Phillies game, sitting on my grandfather's knee, Harry Kalas was the announcer.

After a life-long obsession with the Phillies, my grandfather passed away. The day after he passed, the Phillies won a home game and when Harry Kalas announced the final score, my mom and I cried, knowing full well my grandfather had given them luck from the afterlife. "Outta here!"

When the Phillies won the World Series last season, Harry Kalas was the one who voiced our excitement and enthusiasm after 28 years of High Hopes.

The Phillies will never the same for me again.

So long, Harry. I'm so glad that you went with the team. Way to give it your all.

I am going to throw up so much tomorrow

First drunken post of '09!

Just got back from the farewell happy hour for Susan (who, despite only hanging out over Editorial Conferences, I am going to really miss) and now I am tipsily watching BSG with a margarita by my side (YES I'VE HAD JOSE CUERVO FOR DINNER WHAT OF IT?).

You guys. I am doing better. Mainly because of the José Cuervo, but WHATEVER. I have the best friends. I am writing a lot for my thesis. I have a sort of fictional story cooking kind of related to me and Brisket that I am preparing to write. I feel good about it. Also? I feel like I am on the cusp of awesome.

I know that I am not making a whole lot of sense and I've been sort of a downer here. But I promise that I will cheer up and things are going to get better. It has to. It's spring. Spring is the time of new beginnings.

I want you to know that I appreciate you. That I love you. That you make the shit days better.

Thanks, you guys. I lovr you all.

Oh, cut me some slack already

I went out at lunch to tried to soothe my troubled thoughts and emotions by delving in the comfort of books -- I went to the local Barnes & Noble and wandered amongst the stacks, the fresh smell of warm chocolate cookies wafting through the air, bright covers cheerily lined on the shelves.

On my way back to the office: My "Check Engine" light came on.

Fuck you, Universe. FUCK YOU.

Hitting home

I've been reading and rereading many zines of late (THESIS OMG), and last night I came across a quote that took my breath away:

For years I loved with heartbreaking intensity. Desperation. I opened up fast as possible. Quick, quick, see me before it is too late. — Doris 23

Well, yeah. I can relate to that, just a bit.

Things with Brisket, as you may have gathered, are weird. A few weeks ago we had The Talk. I hadn't intended on having The Talk, but a conversation about respecting me and my time morphed into that and let me just tell you, if I owned a TARDIS I would go back in time and prevent it from ever happening, just so I could continue being blissfully ignorant. We're on different pages. Possibly in different books altogether.

And yet...I can't bring myself to completely let go. I don't think he can either. There's too much I like about him. I can list his faults over and over and over: his immaturity, his selfish behavior, his unwillingness to grow up. But all I can remember is how well we connected, how attractive and special I feel with him, our stimulating conversations, our passion, how for months we couldn't get enough of each other.

I would give anything to get back there. Even if it was false.

We took a break for about two weeks, and I get the impression that since The Talk he's been purposefully holding back so as to avoid and prevent me from getting hurt. I also have a (completely unfounded and irrational) suspicion that he might have someone else he's messing around with — which is 100% allowed per our agreement from back in the day to "keep things casual."

Since The Talk, the ball has been in my court. He left it to me to decide if I wanted to Just Be Friends or continue Doing Whatever It Is We're Doing. I am in control. I've opted to try to continue Doing Whatever It Is We're Doing, because I am deranged. I know I shouldn't settle or compromise.

But I know other things.

I know that I am too emotional, and a serial monogamist. I've never casually dated anyone. I've only been in serious relationships. I know I take things too seriously, too deeply. I feel it all. I know that I need to learn to relax and not hold so tight. I think, on some level, all this bullshit is supposed to help me, to teach me how to be casual and simple when it comes to men. Get back to basics.

I also know I am unwilling to go back to where I was before Brisket: Lonely, alienated, the odd girl out. Celibate. Pathetic. I know how hard it is for me to find someone I like. I know my past follies and crushes and how disastrous they all turned out to be. I am unwilling to give up on someone I find to be intellectually stimulating, attractive, funny, and who (miracles of fucking miracles) actually finds me attractive as well. I haven't had that for FIVE FUCKING YEARS. Why should I give up on that so easily? I refuse to be that girl again, standing alone while everyone else is paired up around me, all happy in their love. Fuck that noise.

I'll take what I can get. I should be damned GRATEFUL.

I can hear you. I hear you ALL, shouting at me through cyberspace. Telling me that I'm a beautiful flower, that I'm awesome, that he sucks. Telling me that you love me, telling me that I'm wonderful. Telling me he doesn't deserve me.

You're right. He doesn't deserve me.

But I want him.

I should have him. If I'm so much better than him, I should be able to have him, right? He was supposed to be my reward. My reward for Prince Fucking Charming and for having to deal with lecherous men, for having to listen to men make careless and hurtful remarks, for all the nights spent alone, for all my doubts. I want him to want me. Why can't I have this thing, this one thing?

I know he's ultimately wrong for me. I know I don't want him to be my boyfriend.

I want it to be the way it used to be. Intense, giddy, saucy. Fun. I'm trying to let go, relax, to retrace my steps.

Whatever.

Here I am. Things are fine. I fall too hard, I'm setting myself up for disaster, I give too much, and I'm being stupid.

Deep breath.

Tomorrow I begin again.

After Ostara

Ostara was weeks ago, but I never posted anything about it.

Originally I thought I wasn't going to be able to attend Ostara because I was supposed to have a dress rehearsal that night. But then Murder! was canceled. Still, I hesitated. Brisket was to attend the dress rehearsal and after the week he and I had gone through, I wasn't keen to cancel on him. And yet, given everything – especially what he and I had gone through – I really felt I needed to go to Ostara. It was a pickle to say the least. In the end I called him, explained the situation and invited him to come to Ostara with me. He politely declined, not feeling particularly comfortable with what the ritual would entail. We made plans for another night instead.

On an impulse, I invited my friends, Rosemontites and fellow Murder! cast members Liz and Jillian, to attend. They both happily accepted and for the first time ever, I had guests at a ritual.

Needless to say, this was a little weird for me. It was harder for me to Let Go completely and get into the whole thing. I also once again had energy-raising issues. But whatever. Time to dance away the winter, plant new seeds and broke what bound me. Talk about a ritual coming at the right effing time. And Liz and Jillian both loved and benefited from the ritual, just like I suspected they would.

After, during the feasting, I was talking to Liz and Jillian about various Pagan-related things and happened to catch the ear of one of the Sacred Crossroads members. He sort of shifted into our conversation, and at once point I commented that I wasn't even in the Inner Path, so what did I know? He turned to look at me sharply and asked why I wasn't in/on the Inner Path. "I've certainly seen you at enough of these things," he pointedly told me.

"Oh, I sort of haven't had the time," I explained. "I work full time and go to school part time and...I don't know. I haven't been able to take the Intro to Wicca course and..." I faded off as I caught sight of his raised eyebrow and a look that clearly said Cut the crap.

"Ok," I began again. "It's taken me some time to get...comfortable with this aspect of myself."

"That," he told me, "I'll accept." We ended up chatting for awhile and ultimately I think it was really helpful.

I've been delving a bit deeper recently. Nina got me hooked on a bunch of really informative Primer podcasts. And I just bought my first athame and besom. So there's that. I guess it's time to stop being on the sidelines so much and take some personal responsibility already.