Processional and Recessional

YAWWWWWNNNNNN I'm practically falling asleep as I type this. Ok, I already did -- on the shuttle bus back to work.

Funny store about the shuttle before I explain my somewhat unusual sleepiness... This morning I had training downtown. Since I live about 3 blocks away from the free shuttle that connects both campuses of the university I work for, I decided to just take that instead of other forms of germ ridden public transportation. Typically, the shuttles are manageable, crowd wise.

But today must have been a preview of what I should expect come Fall. It was packed and I, being about two inches under a somewhat respectable 5 feet, had to deal with attempting not to fall on my ass while straddling two leather grips (I cant reach the metal bars).

Scene from a bondage film, I tell ya. Here I am, spread eagle in a shorter skirt rocking back in forth as the bus flops around LSD going 50 miles an hour. Now, I've never ridden the bus downtown, so I couldn't anticipate turns like the other standers apparently could. One extremely tight turn later, I am falling straight on top of this poor British college student trying to do his law school homework. And I dont just fall, no. My female parts are all up in his face and I am basically straddling him and his textbook. The rest of the guys sitting near him are just staring in a mix of horror and awe while the ladies graciously held on to my purse and gym bag.

After I managed to pull myself up, I mustered a "Sorry about that. Next time I'll ask you what you're reading first." Klutz.

This wouldn't have happened on the magic school bus with Ms. Frizzle.

On the way back to my main campus after the most basic training ever, I had the entire bus to myself and I slept.

Why so tired, you may (probably not) ask? Well, today I rose up at 4am like the Sleeping Beauty that I am to watch the man in my life, B, get his Masters Degree from his University in the UK. About 60% of the ceremony was in Welsh, which I certainly was not prepared for, but I was too busy scanning the crowds for B and his family (who were prominently featured in the front row) on my poor streaming feed to notice it at first. But then there came the confirmation of degrees.

In the US, it's your name and a handshake as you individually walk off stage. These UK-ers on the other hand have it down by efficiency. They call the undergrads in groups of five or six, quickly read their name, read a passage in Welsh, and then they nod their hats. Seriously, that's it. What took my alma mater almost three hours to do was slashed nearly in half. Oh, and their ceremony featured possibly one of the worst organists I've ever heard and a badass flutist and harpist duo the split the ceremony in to two.

There were also no special speakers. One 90 year old historian had to stand about 10 minutes as they read his life story and then was promptly walked off stage. That was it. No fake doctorates to be had. No student life stories. Just quick and easy out-the-door-ya-go procedures.

It didn't surprise me when B called me after his ceremony to tell me that he wants to stay in that UK town for good to get his doctorate. I was just waiting for him to admit it. He speaks so highly of the place and has shown me oodles of pictures and google maps for me to admit that it is an extremely lovely town. His friends are there, a good degree awaits him, and he can fully realize that terrible Ah-ccent he's been cultivating. He's made it this far, and I cannot be more proud of him and all his accomplishments. I cannot wait to see where life takes him from this point on- whether it be the UK to finish up a degree or here in Chicago to find what jobs await him.

Ok. I am going to get gushy in a moment, and I just dont want to do that. I'm 6 days out from him returning home and it could not come sooner.

I've stayed pretty occupied by going home over the weekend for my birthday party, working on my writing portfolio, and going out with Turkey tonight. Tomorrow, I am going to DDPP Chicago, which will be my first in two years. I cant wait to just dance all my B loneliness away and attempt to make new friends that are central to the city.

Hand Holding

This morning, while walking to my L stop, I saw maybe the cutest old couple walking hand in hand. It was 7:30 in the morning and I was still dreaming of gnomes eating my brains (true nightmare), so I really think that the lack of sleep mixed with the lobotomy performed on me made my heart flutter a bit more when I passed them up.

Maybe it was because I kept replaying that Zales commercial (shout out to my mom who works there) in my spinning head. Have I been that commercial exposed that I now look at two old people strolling as a sign that I need to get to the nearest jewelry store and spend 2 months salary on myself?

God. I hope not.

I could easily write about engagements, but I will spare you that for at least another 2 years. Instead, I'm going to present an ode to holding hands. Even though the Beatles beat me to it, one of my favorite movies mentions it, this article proves it scientifically, and Shakespeare made it famous, I still feel that nothing express romantic interest better than a good hand holding:

Oh, fourth grade love...

The kind that bewilders and excites.

How do I long to press

My fingers with frail might.

It's your sweaty palm, dear

That conjures mental mess

The way your eyes begin to peer

And how your arms will steer

Your dirty digits

To my lotioned fidgets

Embracing one last round.

A perfect fit.

A witty quip.

We walk hand to hand

Ground to ground.

Now, I will admit that I hate writing poetry, but that did incite some little tingles of remembering the first boy I ever walked hand in hand with. We strolled through the mall, rocking our arms back and forth wildly, until we reached the movie theater where our hands didn't depart unless to grab more popcorn.

As I've become older, my hand holding has become more meaningful. I'm one of those girls who will linger until the other one pulls away or falls asleep. I believe in reading palms as a romantic gesture, even if it is just jest. I get goosebumps when someone offers theirs to mine without me going in for the kill first. And frankly, holding hands turns me on much more than a steamy make out session.

Plus, you cant fall down alone when you hold hands. The reciprocated either has to catch you or take the fall with you.

Daddy-Daughter-Everyday

Like I mentioned in my other posts, I am sorry for my absence. I've been exceptionally busy with the transition from one home to another. Now, I am all (sorta) moved in and adjusted. It wasn't without its own drama. For example, the original plan was to move in on Tuesday, but my leasing company (Chicago Apartment Finders) couldn't get the paperwork to go through fast enough. I eventually signed my lease on Wednesday and I began personally moving boxes on Thursday night after work.

My ammmmmazing dad had pre-arranged to come help me move all of my stuff on Friday night. But we soon realized that if we were to move everything on Friday, we would be making about 10 trips until about 4am. He took the day off and I leased out my younger cousin to help him move. B was supposed to contribute but he had an emergency car repair and couldn't make it. So while I was working a very dangerous graduation ceremony and attempting to keep up with the World Cup action at work, my dad and cousin Kyle were roughing through storms, flooding, and the unpleasant parking conditions to move almost everything in my old apartment in to my new one.

When I got off of work, I ran through a lightning and hail storm to my new pad only to find that we had lost a much beloved member of my furniture family. I recently purchased an amazingly cheap, but still a splurge, mattress set. B struggled to pull up the boxspring by himself so I figured that would be the WORST part of moving. I was so right. My dad and cousin spent about 45 minutes until they broke it and gave up. Now I am sleeping on the mattress alone. I'm not going to lie, it sucks. Hopefully I can find a quick and easy solution that will get me up off the floor asap.

But really, I have nothing but thanks for my father. This is a man who has moved my growing amount of crap at least 10 times in the last 5-6 years. From tiny dorm rooms to 4th floor transition apartments during major baseball games, my dad has done it all... often with little to no help from this weak armed party.

Not to mention the fact that he has seen me through three cars, three major boyfriends, and three major life changing career moves... My dad is amazing. And I, of course, now have unobtainable expectations of what a man should and shouldn't do. But most of all, he has given me life lessons. These are just six of them that I take with me in my every day life:

1. Be kind to everyone you meet.
2. Trash talk and gossiping behind one person's back only leaves you open for them to do the same.
3. Create your own opportunities and never be afraid to say yes when possible.
4. Find a good man that will listen to you when you are sad and share in your joy when you are happy.
5. Practice, practice, practice.
6. Good movies can include Meg Ryan.

Oh, and listen to plenty of Paul Simon. Daily.

Another great man in my life is B. I spent most of yesterday out in the country at his family's home in celebration of the Solstice. It was a beautifully bright day, and I again loved meeting his family. They are such a wonderfully open group of people. And the kids are just adorable! Hearing little Logan tell B that he knew that his beer wasn't "big kid's pop" was hysterical.

Today, I woke up with to B moving and unpacking most of my stuff. He apparently got up and couldn't sleep, so instead of waking me up or just turning on the tv, he spent the majority of the morning unpacking, and organizing my desk. Later, we went out for lunch, saw Toy Story 3 (A+++++++++), and then watched the Guild while eating pita take out. Yummy weekend!

Anyways, I will make sure to pick up my blogging as I unpack and get acclimated with my new neighborhood. Hopefully I will have some time to check out the beach, see some of the shops, and learn the L line a bit better. Pictures to come!

I'd Like To Thank You All For Nothing

Today has been nothing to write home about. Work is getting a little less confusing as projects start pouring in. And I finally got my netID so I could set up an email and access the systems without my supervisor logging me in every time I accidentally "x-ed" out (which happens a ton).

I'm grateful that my supervisor is also totally in to soccer, like me. We were both talking about the World Cup and streaming today's games (WTF ITALY!) on our computers. He even suggested that we both "accidentally take the day off" on Friday to watch the US play Slovenia. I agree with him- it only happens every 4 years, so we've got to enjoy it now!

About half way through my day, I got a phone call from HR about my papers not being processed correctly, so I was sent on a 1/2 mile hike to their office building. It was such a dreary, foggy, rain-filled day that it was almost surreal. It gave me time to do a little reflecting on some problems that have popped up unexpectedly.

But really, the rain made me think of one of my favorite Wilco songs, "Misunderstood."

Well you're back in your old neighborhood
The cigarettes taste so good
But you're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood

There's something there that you can't find
Honest when you're tellin' a lie
You're hurt but you don't know why
You love her but you don't know why

Short on long term goals
There's a party there that we oughtta go to
Do you still love rock and roll?
Do you still love rock and roll?

It's only a quarter to three
Reflecting off the O.C.D.
You're looking at a picture of me
You're staring at a picture of me

Take the guitar player for a ride
Cause He ain't never been satisfied
He thinks he owes some kind of debt
Be years before he gets over it

There's a fortune inside your head
All you touch turns to lead
You think you might
just crawl back in bed
The fortune inside your head

You know you're just a mama's boy
Positively unemployed
So misunderstood
So misunderstood

I know you've gotta God shaped hole
You're bleeding out your heart full of soul
So misunderstood (x4)

I'd like to thank you all for nothin'
I'd like to thank you all for nothin' at all


I take the lyrics to be kind of sarcastic. It reminds me of my friends who complain that there is no one that gets them or appreciates them. It also makes me think of those awkward times when you revisit done and over friendships and relationships. You're constantly gripping at strings, trying to get back what once was.

I dont think this song really describes me, per say. We all feel alone in this world, some more than others, and I've always been a bit independent with my feelings. I'm ok with being alone, dealing with it in my own way, finding other portals to vent. But when I need it, I make sure I get it.

This song has come up in my head over the last month because I have been struggling to get back to the independent side. I've become less emotionally sufficient than I once was. And instead of just moving on, I'm holding on to grudges or issues a bit more than I would like to. My goal for the rest of this month is to do some more meditation and get back to the point where I can feel less lonely in my own body and less reliant on the boyfriend, best friends, and phone contacts for companionship.