Its been a while...

Yeah, sooo I haven't posted anything in, like (haha), eons.

It's raining today. It's a cold rain, the kind that makes you feel drear and alone when you already are. Lilah was chipper and happy this morning, cooing and talking and slapping the television screen as she is wont to do. My child cheers me up on days that I don't feel any particular motivation to do anything. She gets me up and moving. We had a quiet, cheerful breakfast this morning. She had toast with sweet cream butter, and I had a grilled (grilled is a much nicer word than fried, I think) peanut butter, almond butter, rasberry jam, and strawberry conserve sandwich. We both enjoyed the sandwich. Lilah would totter over for a bite and then totter away, jam smeared in a straight line across her face. It was a little eerie. She looked a bit like Heath Ledger's Joker. Ah, my little dumpling.

My window shades are drawn, but it appears to be getting lighter outside. It still could not be called a 'nice' day, at least not by textbook terms. I'm sure it would be a magnificent day for wandering around a dusty old bookstore, warm drink in hand, or perhaps walking along next to a sedate canal, peacoat on, collar up against any wind or intruding folk. As I sit here today, alone, I think about my snow day. It was a magnificent day. Today doesn't have that magic in the air. Simply a stillness, a waiting. Biding time before spring arrives.

WHAT THE F#CK, GEORGIA?!?!?!

IT SNOWED ALL DAY LONG.

I asked for Georgia (yeah, I requested to be here. Shut up. I had my reasons, and everything turned out well. Look at it this way- you're a better person for having met me.) for a couple of reasons: One, I'm only five hours from home and family. This is especially beneficial since I wound up having a kid here. Two, its a southern location. ie, WARM. WHY in the HELL is it SNOWING here?????

Honestly, I can't get on here and bitch too much. If I'm going to be honest, (which I am on my blog. That's why I created it. I can be honest here, if nowhere else.) I actually enjoyed the day more than I can say. The snow made me realize that I needed a day out. I took the opportunity to traverse the area in which I live, roaming about as I pleased and dillydallying in the triumphant masses of blowing flurries.

I spotted an interesting little lunch spot out of the corner of my eye, just as my tummy started a-rumbling and I figured, ah, what the hell? I'm alone and I'm feeling adventurous. Let's check it out. How fortuitous that I did. I got to try the most hellaciously good mug of soup I've had in quite a while. It was a delicious, creamy tomato and goat cheese concoction, served on the side of a turkey and provolone sammy. Pastel (the name of the delicious soup-purveyor) is actually an Art Cafe, so I basked in the distinct pleasure of consuming my hearty fare while surrounded by aesthetically pleasing artwork, a wonderfully vibrant and cozily-chaotic design style, and large, unobstructed windows which allowed me to enjoy the dancing flurries while simultaneously enjoying my food. It was a late lunch, and I was the only customer there. It just made the moment even sweeter that I could enjoy so much visually while also enjoying the smooth, husky-voiced sirensong drifting from the inconspicuous speakers hidden around the room. Sumptuous soup aside, it was a meal I will not soon forget.

After I took my leave of Pastel, I was unsure where to go. Should I go down to the riverwalk and take a stroll? I got into my car, turned the heat on my toes, and started driving, not really sure where I was headed. I first thought to go to Michael's, to get supplies for a craft project I've been thinking about. I even went in and looked around. This was not where I wanted to be. Then I knew where I was going. It was where I had wanted to go all along. I just had not been sure that I wanted to go alone. I went to the Salvation Army.

Sounds strange, doesn't it? I suppose it would. Why would I go to a thift shop on a snowy day? Because the person I wanted to spend the snowy day with was not around. I went to the Salvation Army because it made me happy to be there. I dug through books, and vinyls, and coats, losing myself in the musty smell of castoff possessions. I smiled and laughed and searched, always vigilant for that one thing that I could not live without. What that one thing is, I have no idea, but everyone goes into second-hand stores looking for it. For my counterpart, I believe its a Members Only jacket. I still don't know what mine is. Perhaps a great vintage wrap dress. I haven't figured it out yet. But one thing is for sure- I'll know it when I see it.

The bottom line is this: When I first realized it was snowing, my initial reaction was shock and dismay. As I was driving home after my day out on the town, the snow stopped falling. My reaction to this was a much, much greater dismay. I didn't want it to end. My snow day was over.

The State of "The Union"

It seems I've recently found myself part of a relationship. I am very pleased with this outcome, and happy to be a part of it. I have been in discussion with friends about this recently, and I thought to myself: Its official now, because we've both changed our Facebook status.

When did this happen? When did it become a mandatory part of our culture that we must post relationship status changes on our social networking websites in order to make it "official?" Throughout the history of man, woman, sex, love, and the like, there has been some measure of ceremony and tradition to the act of joining together, be it being "seen together," passing notes, holding hands, meeting each other's parents, etc etc

A perfect example of this is the ritual observed in the movie The Quiet Man, which stars the indisputable legend of the silver screen, Mr. John "Duke" Wayne and the stunning Ms. Maureen O'Hara (my personal role model). Set in a small town in Ireland, this is a tale of love and everything that goes along with it. Not a small part of that is the tradition of the local matchmaker/chaperon, who oversees all the interaction and legal/moral ramifications of the exchange. This makes for a delightful movie, full of laughs (it helps that the movie is full of Irish people, who are some of the most humorous people on the planet. wink!) and little mishaps that make the plot a tad more believable.

While things such as chaperons and matchmakers are not the norm in our society today, have we not traded such things for others? While at one point a 'chaperon,' so to speak, was definitely the order of the day, the times changed (as they are wont to do), and couples started to be allowed to interact without attendants. After that, couples were regularly seen together alone, and the term P.D.A. was created for that very reason. Now, no one blinks an eye when couples live together and have premarital sex. Interesting how the times change... (This is not a moral treatise. I am not here to voice my personal opinion on premarital sex or "living in sin" or anything like that. However, if you would like to know my feelings, feel free to ask and I will be more than pleased to respond.)

My point is, we have all this 'freedom,' yet we've only traded one set of leashes for another. I no longer require a chaperon when I choose to spend time with my significant other, yet it was expected of us to change our statuses on Facebook and Myspace. Its an interesting turn of events, I say. I want to see what happens for the next generation. Maybe couples won't even meet. Maybe they'll live on separate planets, and only interact through webcams and the like. Who knows...

"It is a brave new world, sir, full of religion, knavery, and change. We shall shortly see better days."

-Aphra Behn

I got rick rolled at Cold Stone Creamery

It was a day like any other. It was a day unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Sitting there, enjoying my delicious, creamy treat, the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, the caramel baritone of a redheaded demigod swirled around my synapses and whispered along my heartstrings, rendering my ice cream an unessential and completely inappropriate accompaniment to the sweet angel lullaby which was making sweet love to all but two of the orifices of my body. A molten sex god was rejoicing in his own dedication to, presumably, me. I was both shocked and awed. How had he noticed ME, such an insignificant little thing, when compared with the beauty and grace of his honed melody, much like that of Icarus' wings, designed lovingly by a dedicated father? But, somehow, some way, he had.

"Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"

Such words were never spoken, such sincerity never before felt nor seen nor heard. The corners of my eyes began to pool and spill over with fat, salty tears as I heard all that could be mine. Finally! Mine!

I sat, trembling and exhilarated, waiting for my god-man to come retrieve me and take me to the top of Olympus, to cavort with the other immortals. I waited. I watched. I listened for more. I heard nothing.

The silence began to weigh like a bag of sand on my erect, proud shoulders. They began to slump with the flavor of hopelessness in the air and on my soul. Before I knew it, the day had gone and I was sitting all alone, waiting for a light that would never again come on. My sadness overwhelmed me.

This was one Rick roll I would not survive.

The Year Is Over, and I Am a Banana

While it was a wonderful year (in theory and summation, with a little, OK, a LOT left in the dark recesses of the hopefully forgotten), I can't help but be glad that its over. I think about life a lot. I should. I have every reason to- I have to drive in Augusta every day, and these people are more frightening behind the wheel than the smegma hidden in the folds of Ted Kennedy's neck fat. While absolutely horrifying while driving, I do have to give the people of this little place credit. They have character. Take, for instance, the woman that served me lunch today. I can't remember her real name, or even the first pseudonym we came up with while discussing her over lunch, so for now I'll just call her Cheryl.

Now, Cheryl was an interesting character. Sporting ambiguous and shoddy bicep tattoos, a row of gold teeth, thick, clumped eye makeup, and an ample bosom, Cheryl was a Carnie's wet dream. A nice, jovial type, she was very accommodating as she took down our orders and served up a Dos Equis my counterpart could have bathed in. Oh, she regaled us with such tales during our too-brief time together! Harrowing adventures of an ex-boyfriend that had his sixty-year-old mother arrested on New Years Eve, only to then be arrested himself! Such folly, says I! Such folly! Shortly after delivering our huge portions of tasty Mexican fare, Cheryl came over to our table with jacket and purse on her person and a cold drink in hand.

"I have to run to the IGA across the street to get some green beans for my beliefs. Ya know, how everyone has their beliefs and all. (Yes, Cheryl. Yes, I do.) So I've got to get some green beans, and I haven't taken a break all day. I'll be right back, but if you need anything, [insert other random server's name here] will help you out until I get back, okay?"

Okay, Cheryl. Go get your green beans for your beliefs. During her absence, we conducted science experiments. We tested static electricity and gravity, nigh pushing them to the limits of their boundaries. We designed a prophylactic for a salsa bottle. We discussed the pros and cons of a hooker-infested Atlanta extended-stay hotel. We dreamed. And we waited. Waited for our Cheryl to return to us. Our shining beacon of light in a dark and drear Mexican cantina.

She came back to us, green beans in hand. Oh, Cheryl.

This is just one stellar example of the many Augustans I've come in contact with this year alone. Perhaps next time I'll regale you with a tale of the Kroger on Deans Bridge Road, and the correct way to position your keys so that you can simultaneously stab someone while delivering a punch with your energy fist. Perhaps.

It was a good year. And this one will be even better. Because Cheryl got green beans.