You've Been Warned

My sister told me about this site. She warned me about this site. It's Internet crack for females. But it's so wonderful!

My two first Polyvore creations:

Ladies, I pass this torch on to you.

Maybe This Is Why My Car Hates Me...

Observations from the 20-something life, part 1:

When you're beginning to worry that, because of all the junk in it, your vehicle will be mistaken for that of the homeless patron who hangs out at the library every day, you know it's time to clean out the car.

Oh yes, definitely time.

Songs of Leaving...

Seems like I've spent a goodly portion of the last several years saying goodbye and leave-taking. I think it's one of the hazards of pursuing a graduate degree and devoting a portion of your life to pursuing a career--the path requires you to move some, lose some, say some goodbyes, and hang out with people who are doing the same. So not only are you parting from people and places that you have grown to love--or at least accept--but often, you are left behind. People say good-bye to you, too.

And when I say you, I really mean me. And maybe you, too, but firstly, me.

I remember reading somewhere (was it in one of Peter Gethers' books?) that any sort of parting brings us pain, because it ultimately reminds us of death, of our own mortality. I used to think that was a bit of a stretch, quite a leap, but not really, not anymore. Goodbyes of any type are hard, really hard. And if you're certain red head with a contemplative, dysthymic streak, goodbyes are good reasons to get good and quiet and sad and thoughtful for a good few weeks.

It was just a conference. Sure, on one level, it was just a conference, but on another level, one that relates back to my own life, it was also the first time I had returned to a region that I continue to love, stupidly and persistently, long after the region stopped loving me. More and more, I see that my love of the Midwest has been and will always be an unrequitted love. I have never been able to explain it to anyone, why I've loved the Midwest, Indiana in particular, so much. I don't know that I will ever be able to explain it. I know that it goes back to my childhood, some sense of rhythm and stability and normalcy that I knew I lacked, and that I somehow got into my head that a life in Middle America could have provided me. And I never really, truly realized it until I moved there and fell in love with Michael and thought we were going to live on a leafy, tree-lined, suburban street for the rest of our days, and finally I would have that normal family, that rhythmic life, that stability and security that I had always dreamed of.

The real lesson, the real gift that I came away with was that there is no stability or security. Not now, not ever. Not with a job, or without, not with a husband and children, or without. There's no true safety, no lasting security. Only comforting but fleeting moments in which we feel secure and experience a stable life, but never true and lasting stability. This realization still doesn't stop me from wanting a home and husband and family, but at least maybe it will keep me from going completely stupid the next time I experience the belief that there's a ultimate happy-ever-after.

When the plane lifted off the frozen Minnesota ground this morning, I cried. There is a song of leaving in my heart, one that I have been carrying around for two years, but haven't been able to sing.

But I think the music is starting...

An A for effort. Take $600 and move back three spaces, to 1929.

Things have been pretty quiet here on the Western front the last couple of weeks. It says a lot that the majority of my social functions are conducted with people from work...yesterday my boss and I went to a Celtic Woman concert down in Palm Desert. We had a really good time! It wasn't as powerful as the Riverdance performance I went to a few years back, but it certainly was special. It didn't hurt that the celtic ladies were gorgeous, either! Afterwards, we scooted down to Palm Springs, parked, and began searching for a great place to eat. Fortunately, this is not difficult in the desert. We finally found the best restaurant ever, a tapas-inspired bistro called Azul. It was, dare I say, fabulous? Swanky decor, funky atmosphere, damned good artsy-fartsy food. An order of asparagus, lobster spring rolls, chicken potstickers, and banana spring rolls later, my boss and I were sated. Our inner cats were purring.

Also, I got my economic stimulus rebate! Sorry, Uncle Sam, it's stimulating my savings account right now. But no worries, the economy will be getting a Mel-sized stimulus when I move to the desert. And anyway, I don't think anyone, least of all the guv-ment, thinks these rebates are going to make a difference. I think the guv-ment just wants us little people to be appeased with the knowledge that the guv-ment tried.

But hey, $600 is fine and dandy by me.

ometimes, for no particular reason, a day is just crappy, and there's nothing you can do to salvage it.

I can't even really pinpoint what it was about this day that was no darned good--maybe just a variety of things. My Literary Lunch program, so heavily attended the past two months, totally bombed today; only four people showed up for it. One of my colleagues is facing a potentially life-threatening health situation. My cat likes to wipe her cat-butt on the carpet. My shoes are attractive but cheap, and by mid-afternoon, my feet were weeping for mercy. And perhaps the biggest thing--which is probably, to any rational person, the least insignificant and probably a sign that I am certifiably crazy--is that in my professional life, I have this perpetual, paranoid guilt and am always wondering if I have done something to upset a supervisor or colleague.

But, at the end of the day, I am nothing if not plucky, and I believe--I have to believe--that a positive attitude is everything. So I'm going to focus on the good things, however insignificant they seem. Balancing out this day of poo was a good haircut, a safe drive home from work, a cat who literally tries to hug me, a cold Corona in the fridge (now in my belly), the comforting feel of soft, cool yoga pants as I slip them on, and on my ride home, a beautiful view of a fireworks display that one of the local casinos put on. I actually laughed with delight at the grand finale.
And of course there is the knowledge that tomorrow is another day.

Welcome to the Hotel California

Last week I reached a landmark moment in my life. As of last week, I have lived in California longer than I lived in Indiana. I've lived here longer than I had originally planned, and it hasn't turned out half bad. A lot of days, I feel like I have relinquished my capacity for introspection; I feel that my sojourn here has become less of a spiritual journey and more of a series of events, through which I navigate on autopilot. I don't care much for that.

But, regardless, here I am. For now, and into the foreseeable future. I suppose there are worse fates.

When I arrived home from work tonight, I noticed that it was downright cold, and windy too, and lots of grey, stormy clouds had blotted out the evening sky. I was eager to get indoors--I had not expected that kind of weather, and so was jacketless and shivering. The weather reminded me of evenings in Indiana--at least, my imagined evenings, which never came to pass, as it turns out. Life is what happens when you are making other plans.

California has been good to me, much better than I expected. Maybe I brought it into my life, maybe we make our own luck, who knows? Regardless, California is home.

For now, anyway. Rolling stones don't like to lose their momentum.

Minnesota, Ho!

Last week sucked. I took what I felt to be a really hard knock at work, and it just sucked. Possibly what sucked the most was that I learned that I am a huge crybaby, even at work, and my emotions are thoroughly capable of humiliating me in front of my boss.
Which is why this week's forthcoming events could not have come at a better time. My library is sending me to a conference! It's the PLA (Public Library Association) 2008 Conference, in Minneapolis. I am super-stoked to be going--the Midwest! cold weather! And if that were not awesome enough, I get to see one of my very good friends there!

So I am spending tonight packing, sorting through my notes, checking the weather, and trying to put behind me what was has been the shittiest week I've had in a long time. Minneapolis will be like a librarian spa retreat...maybe they'll give a workshop in how not to cry at work.

Seriously, though, it's all so adult-like. I am going to be networking...with business cards! I will be attending workshops and receptions and grilling vendors and discussing readers' advisory databases. I cannot wait!

Wow, I'm a crybaby and a nerd. Hot.