Archive for the The Single Life Category
according to our generation’s answer to the encyclopedia britannica (did i even spell that right?):
sass, courage, spunk, determination, attitude
ex: “That girl’s got moxie.”
that girl, of which they speak?
nine jobs applied for, three of which i actually really, really want. total number of jobs i really really want and have now applied for, in case you are keeping tabs at home? 4. all of which are west of the mississippi.
an all-day west wing marathon soothed the savage beast of this sore throat that seems interminable. even theraflu didn’t really help. cereal with milk, though, does. odd, although not. the milk likely coats my throat…and then makes it worse. good job, drbolte.
i am so looking forward to tomorrow, she says not at all sarcastically, because i found someone to work for me and it will be COLD tomorrow, so i’ll be able to bundle up like i did, sort of, today and stay in bed all day again with my laptop and will myself to finish the rest of these letters. it’s awfully intimidating, you know, to try to sell yourself. i was planning on completely reworking every letter, but i end up really just sort of retooling the first paragraph and the last paragraph. i think that’s probably okay.
i think it will be scary to put these all in the mailbox. i got to wondering recently when i’d start hearing back. i think maybe soon? i had to change my voicemail from the adorable message i had before–which said “you’ve reached the ridiculously adorable [drbolte]. you may proceed to worship me after the beep.”–to a boring, professional one. ah, the travails of a job searcher.
but i’m grateful for every one of these jobs that give me hope. genuinely i am. odds are better, right? all i need is one. one solid, good, awesome tenure track job.
i only need one good man too.
but that’s a whole other topic.
keep your fingers crossed on both accounts, okay?
it’s my birthday.
i don’t really want to talk a lot about it. my plan is to spend the day reading ann radcliffe, nursing some SERIOUSLY sore leg muscles, pick up football tickets, and then steal some silver shoes from my roommate, put on a party dress, and cute it up at dinner and ice cream with my roommates.
pictures will certainly be taken.
this is where you come in. i am in need of a serious “i’m ADORABLE and hott girl” playlist. i thought of this…but considering that the song came out two years ago and is a little…skank?…it’s not exactly what i had in mind.
so in honor of my birthday (and my blog’s birthday too, which i missed in the midst of my existential gothic chapter dissertation freakout crisis state), delurk and leave me suggestions. i feel like i am going to need lots of “i rock. the end” girl music.
and you all are precisely the ones to provide.
thanks in advance!
who wants to be my personal stylist?
the things that routinely go through my head when choosing clothing to wear to, say, my job as a tutor on campus revolve around cleanliness, if i have a pair of $2 flip flops that match or sort of match or don’t even remotely match it, if it’s comfortable, if it will give me heatstroke as i am crossing campus, and whether or not i have worn it before. like, you know, recently. as in i don’t want to be that girl who keeps wearing that oxford university shirt even though i have two and they are comfortable and i can wear purple flip flops with them and do you see my dilemma?
every day that’s not a work day, it’s pajamas and workout wear. because i work out and then sit in my desk chair all day being brilliant, and if i can do that with turtles or rabbits on my legs, i will do it and be glad.
because seriously, folks, i have time to worry about my wardrobe like not at all. i mean i want to. i’m a girl. i want to be cute and adorable and put together all of the time. i watch what not to wear like every other self-respecting shlub and wish that i could have the genetic disposition that allows me to put purple alligator handbags together with some non-matching outfit and have it look spectacular.
i also wish i had the funds to make that possible.
but that’s another topic entirely so ANYWAYS.
what was i saying?
oh. stylist. need one. right.
i do need new clothes. i believe that i have talked about the need for suit shopping before (mom has graciously offered to take my clothes shopping for my birthday, which is exciting but probably won’t happen until JUST BEFORE INTERVIEWS after christmas and that’s just too far away). but clinton and stacy have taught me this much: when i do go suit shopping i will be looking for SUPER! SASSY! FUN! things to wear under it, but let’s be real–a suit’s a suit.
as for the rest of my clothes? i kind of need help. my jeans are all getting too big and that’s really all i ever wear (i know, i know, i know. i’m old enough to not wear jeans all of the time. i get it.) and now i feel interested in purchasing other things but part of me is like “why buy clothes now when they’ll all just be too big in a few months anyways and when you never wear anything but pajama pants anyways, smart one?”
sometimes my inner voice is kind of a smartaleck. right, but still smartalecky about it.
but i’m looking ahead because i am nothing if not a PLANNER. and within the next, say, month and a half, i would like to have some solid pieces that can mix and match and do amazing things to my butt. two of those three wouldn’t suck.
i’m kind of preppy, y’all, with some weird eclectic flair. after all, i did buy and do wear zebra striped flats.
basically, i’m a pathetic heap of sassy just waiting to express itself but can’t manage to find a way to do it well.
anybody want to go shopping with me?
once upon a time, when i was about 16, i went to a halloween haunted house. just across the street from the junior college in my town, there was an abandoned storefront that an organization took over every year and turned into an event called, if i remember correctly, “scream in the dark.” it was legendary in my town and, finally, that year i went with my friends.
it was so popular that we had to wait, in line, for about an hour to get in. we stuck together, through the thrills and squeals and surprised starts. it was seriously fun.
at the end of the whole thing, we got separated. i distinctly remember this moment, because it was embarrassing, as you will see, but also because it seems, perhaps only now as i think back about it in a new context, like a metaphor for how i operate.
(a day when i won’t find a metaphor in my experience is probably the day that i embrace geometry as my life’s work, but that’s neither here nor there.)
the last room was completely dark, the only light coming from glow-in-the-dark paint and a stream of light from the exit door. the only purpose of this room was to get you to the exit. that’s important to know. the exit door was on the left of the last wall, the glow-in-the-dark paint creating a walkway into the wall to the right. can you picture this? the walkway was a diversion, a distraction.
i fell for it. i followed the walkway, doubting the instinct/common sense/little voice that told me that the exit was, hello, where the light was, instead trusting the rules i’d lived by. the rule is, of course, that walkways and roads get you where you want to go.
so i walked into the wall, only then realizing that the place you want to get wasn’t always connected to the road. the teenage boys who were working that room cracked up laughing at me. i don’t blame them–they must have wondered what on earth my problem was.
i didn’t get it, though i should have: sometimes, in a bizarro world you don’t recognize, the rules change.
tonight i went to/planned a small get together for my wonderful pal’s birthday. we went bowling and to steak ‘n shake. it was good fun. playing with my friends is always fun.
when we went to steak ‘n shake, we were all sitting together. our waiter was adorable and sassy, and before i realized it, i was assertive and sassy back. and saying things that i never would have said before. it was fun. i was confident, and i haven’t a clue where it came from.
as we were all leaving, i was the last to pay and my friends, who had all come in separate cars, had already left. i went up to the register, where adorable waiter and his waitery pal (who i had seen him high fiveing in the back and talking to throughout our time there) were standing. waitery pal, who was adorable too in a sort of tall, independent film, curly haired (brookem, if you’re reading this, he had a GOOD HOH), guitar-playing, scruffy way, sort of leaned on the counter by the registers as i was paying and asked me how my brownie sundae was. i don’t really know how to describe his tone, but there was something to it. something i didn’t really recognize.
i told him it was fabulous (brownie, ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry. tell me how that could be ANYTHING but fabulous? that’s what i thought.) and he told me that he had had a complaint about the brownie sundae earlier and so he was just curious. all of this while leaning on the counter and making eye contact and keeping the conversation going…with that unmistakable yet indecipherable tone.
and, while i sort of avoided eye contact at some points, i played along.
the whole time?
i had really no idea what was happening.
i should say, perhaps, that i knew exactly what was happening. i had known what was happening the whole time we were there. but i talked myself out of it, over and over again, not believing what i saw.
do you see the connection?
i now live in bizarro world where the rules are totally different. i haven’t caught up yet. i don’t know how to catch up.
when you’re fat, people don’t look at you. they look at you, but they don’t see you. or if they see you, they try not to see you. they look beyond. they look inside. nothing wrong with that. i don’t mind people seeing inside. i have a blog. i’m obviously kind of okay with my innermost thoughts being on display. my inside? i feel good about it. not to be obnoxious, but i know that i am quite awesome in that regard. i’ve had practice at that.
but i’m not at all used to being seen. not just seen, but seen, appraised, and obviously appreciated. noticed. and there being a positive reaction to that noticing. it’s a language i don’t understand. it’s a perspective i’m not used to. everything seems upside down and inside out. i used to be the one that nobody saw. now i’m the one that gets singled out? i feel like i’m walking into walls still, instead of seeing the door and going towards it with confidence.
i feel like the rest of the world is seeing me in a way that i don’t see myself.
how do you get past that? will i catch up?
woke up late. haven’t eaten breakfast yet. but i needed to come on here and confess.
i might have a crush on someone that i really shouldn’t have a crush on.
don’t worry. nothing scandalous or anything, like a student. (uh, no. i have had adorable students, but i am better than that. you know those skeezy professors. that’s not me.)
just…utterly unattainable but completely adorable. and problematic for many reasons. but when he talks to me and is all adorable everywhere all the time…CRUSH.
i hate those. they’re so distracting.
tell me i’m not the only one…confess your current or past crush-y secrets. i am almost a doctor, after all…
edited to add: and the monday goodness keeps on happening. people in the gym. me=cheesed off and gunshy given my last experience. not motivated to work out ANYWAYS=turning around and coming home. some days you just want to go back to bed. disappointments and frustrations abound in other, non-talk-about-able areas of my life. there’s nothing worse than seeing the bad when you ought to see the good, and that’s me today. i might cry a little. maybe i’ll take a nap. i’ve got nothing to show for this day. i’m sick to death of that.
i’m over at copper boom today, cluttering up her webspace while she’s making the world safe for democracy one summer camper at a time. let’s all hope, for your sakes, that she finds internet but fast.
follow me over!
superquick updates on one-a and one-b.
one-a: done. via email, which is the way we communicate.
one-b: letting it go. if it’s meant to be it will find a way, since we’ve been in each other’s lives for going on three years now. me forcing it feels…like i’m forcing it, for reasons that are ill-advised and that i don’t want to/can’t/won’t talk about here. i feel at once like it’s about him and it’s NOT about him…but regardless…i’m letting it go.
speaking of letting it go…did i mention that i’m a squatter today? GO READ MY BRILLIANCE.
also…are you WATCHING so you think you can dance? i wasn’t going to. and then i did. and now i can’t stop. and seriously…what are these people THINKING? and how can i learn to bend like that?
dilemma one: my love life.
one-a: blindish date guy is interested. while hearing that your eyes are gorgeous and your pictures don’t do them justice is awfully nice, and so is he, i know it’s going nowhere. how do i say this without seeming a) obnoxious and prideful; b) cavalier about his feelings; or c) awkward and horrible.
or is awkward and horrible just sort of a given?
i’m new at this. normally i just try to avoid the situation altogether and it goes away. but that’s not going to work here and i know i need to put on my big girl pants and deal.
who knew that i was so utterly charming and irresistible? i won’t comment on the irony of how that charm is often lost on those i’d like it to not be lost on.
dilemma one-b: IM guy, the one that i’ve been trying to get my flirt on with across a distance, might be sort of interested but is pragmatic enough to not really spark anything up until we are at least in the same state. super.
do i drop the flirting? i’ve been trying…as you know…and it’s been working, i guess, although IM guy would make an excellent poker player since he never ever shows his cards. we have a mutual friend also who has been trying to pull some strings and encourage things along (i am nothing if not in need of some love-related assistance), and he said that it’s all dependent on whether or not IM guy comes back.
and, yes, i do realize that sounds like i asked his best friend at recess if he liked me. sigh.
so…stop putting myself out there or keep doing it? i honestly don’t know what i want.
and that, kids, is the hallmark of this part of my life right now.
dilemma two: my writing life.
two-a: i don’t know what to blog about right now as my life is an utter snoozefest. you got ideas? things you want to know? want me to tell you stories, regale you with my past? yell out a suggestion and i might just take you up on it.
either that or i might go bloggy dark for a few weeks.
i know. shameless manipulation. oh well.
two-b: dissertation progress is so slow. i feel stymied here too. like if i could just concentrate things would be good. i was on FIRE the first week of break, when i was working on the mary shelley article that probably won’t even be published what a crapload of good that’ll do me then, but then i sort of…fizzled. now i feel like i’m just tying up loose ends that i don’t want to really tie up because they’re BORING ends to tie up but if i don’t tie them then i never will and then i’ll have to do it like six months from now when i’ve entirely forgotten what it was that i was trying to argue and i won’t really be able to call that chapter finished with any honesty and yeah.
anybody got any suggestions for sparking the fire back up? i’m going to try prayer. because nothing else seems to really be working. that and clean off my desk so that i can not feel claustrophobic. yeah.
that’s me, my life, and my crazy. thanks for playing along. gots suggestions? please leave them. you know i need the help!
so…short story that should be longer but i don’t want to talk about it yet because i don’t know what i want/am going to do yet: i have been trying to turn on the charm with a certain person. sometimes i come off conqueror–straightforward and ultrabrave–and other times i’m like THIS.IS.JUST.SO.AWKWARD. and i flee from the IM in horror.
the take home message here is that i have begun to doubt my flirting abilities.
there for a while, i was just a force to be reckoned with–supersocial, completely sure of myself (or great at faking it), at ease in my own skin, and completely and utterly charming. now? i think that it has grown to be a part of me so that i don’t notice it so much anymore, but i don’t think i’ve had enough practice lately to know if it’s still there.
i still think that when i turn on the charm, i can make people stop in their tracks. i think i just have sort of forgotten where the switch is, so recent situations find me fumbling around the metaphorical wall, looking for it, instead of gracefully flipping that bad boy into “HELLO! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!”
it could also be that thinking about it so much has made me freak out more about it. like when you know that you have a zit the size of rhode island on your chin and you think that everybody’s staring at it.
anyways. last night, after institute, my roommate and i went to publix. my purpose was to get in and out of there as soon as humanly possible. i had a headache verging on migraine status, i needed fruit and vegetables and things to eat that weren’t ramen, and it was 9 p.m. so we meander with purpose through the aisles (i LOVE strawberries and salad on sale, and i enjoy the fact that i got out of there spending less than $30 on food but still managed to get sourdough bread and as a tangential question, why does no one on the east coast know how to make sourdough bread really sour? i miss it, california girl that i am) and get to the register.
my roommate’s like “man…you picked the kids’ aisle. no gossipy things to look at!”
(also…no candy. a good thing. but raisins! which i bought. and am rather excited about, actually.)
no idea how true that kid aisle comment was.
get up to the checkout line after my roommate has bought her two items and answer the obligatory “how are you?” question with my standard “good. how are you?”.
and realize that the adorable checkout guy is making serious eye contact. ookay. moving along. slight compliment, i suppose, for migraine, very little make-up, why-yes-this-shirt-is-ridiculously-wrinkled-thanks-for-noticing, hair pulled up girl. but you’re like 20, at the most. adorable, yes. not quite jail bait, i guess, but…really? no. 21 is my limit. now.
so i slide my card, teasing my roommate about how she called me with some kind of animal noise and how i won’t answer to that, not at all unaware of the irony of how i actually DID respond to that when i didn’t respond to my name or the fact that the checkout guy and equally adorable bag guy are now listening intently.
yes, i can tell.
then the checkstand goes all haywirey, and checkout boy is apologizing for making me wait, telling me that it’s not my card. and hello, flirt switch. all of the sudden, i’m teasing back, telling him that he did it on purpose. and he responds that, yes, most definitely, he intended to make my life as difficult as possible. and we have a little cute moment there in the publix.
AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!
or at least the crowd in my head. hey, maybe i don’t suck at this after all.
(and then the bag guy called me ma’am. immediate deflation. i don’t want to talk about it.)
relatively happy with my publix outing, i am loading my groceries into my car and the 16 year old (maybe?) cart collector guy in his brown publix apron comes to fetch it RIGHT when i was about to need to do something with it.
i was high on the serendipity of that when i said “perfect timing!” and he said, obviously trying to work his game, “it’s what i planned when i got up this morning.”
hi, my name is drbolte and i play well to the 16-22 demographic.
but the moral of the story is…the flirt switch still works. and grocery stores make for good stories.