Archive for September, 2007

on the 8th day, God turned the desert into a Swamp…

Posted in gators, wordless wednesday on September 11, 2007 by drbolte


meh. whatever.

Posted in Uncategorized on September 10, 2007 by drbolte

It’s strange, and cliched, but it’s quite possible that I am lonely in the midst of hordes of people.

And I’m stressed.  It all hit me today.

Stressed + lonely = Yeah.  You guess.

Doesn’t help that the one month countdown to the big birthday starts tomorrow.  I found myself near tears thinking about it on the way home.

Wow.  Blah.  I need a nap.

Gators, 2-0; Me, 0-4569

Posted in Church, dissertation, friends, gators, sports, teaching on September 9, 2007 by drbolte

If I had done any less or any more this weekend, I would be dead.

Friday: M. Night Shymathon.  10 or 15 people at my house.  Hosting duties.  Fretting about what to do on Saturday that involved productivity.

Saturday: Gator Game–we won, of course–which ended up, somehow, eating up my whole day. Fretting about getting ready to feed the missionaries and the 4 other people I invited (in addition to my two roommates) to dinner.

Sunday: Church.  Cooking. ALL. AFTERNOON. No nap makes Carrie a not happy camper.  Fireside.  Facebooking and letter writing (which still has to be done, by the way).

I’m exhausted, and the sum total of productive things I did to prepare for my meeting with my dissertation advisor?


Yeah, it’s going to be a great day tomorrow.


PS–Why, after the strange men who powerwashed our apartment building ON SUNDAY (don’t get me started, since it was supposed to be on Thursday, which is not Sunday last time I checked), does the place smell like the beach? Does the beach smell like…chlorine? Or am I have a warped sense memory?

laws of attraction

Posted in etcetera, Life, me, mirror mirror on the wall, The Single Life, yet another reason why i don't understand men on September 6, 2007 by drbolte

So I don’t watch Oprah.

I don’t like her. I don’t like that she’s the only one who can get certain celebrities on her show.

So, when I say I don’t watch Oprah, I mean to say that I TRY not to watch Oprah.  If 4 o’clock comes and I’m watching TV, it’s likely it’s some insipid episode of Reba or What I Like About You, just so I can avoid the sanctimonious billionaire.

But I was watching a snippet (until I got disgusted and turned the channel) a few months ago about “The Secret”…which turns out to not really be a secret so much as just common sense.  This ridiculous law of attraction says that what you believe you can get, you’ll get.

So, apparently, I believe I can get 19 and 21 year old guys to worship and adore me.

But in a disturbingly asexual and big sisterly way.

I joke that I collect them, but it’s entirely true. I am a one-woman welcome wagon–if you’re new and you’re cute and (gasp…here’s the kicker) you’re safe, I will walk up to you and say “hey, guess what, we’re going to be friends. And you’re going to love it.”

And, hey, guess what?

They do.

I don’t say this of myself…I say this because people now WANT to be in my collection.  They request it.  I’m not even kidding.

I am awesome…at being the outrageous, flirty friend of 21 year old guys who see me as their big sister and who come to me (often…) for advice about their love lives.

(Which I am happy to give, don’t get me wrong.)

So, if Oprah’s right, and the secret is the law of attraction, what do I need to do to widen my sphere of attraction?

Because, as much as I like the younger ones (and heaven knows that I do!), I can’t manage to get myself to flirt as outrageously with guys closer to my age.

Fear rules me.

I am a wimp.

And I don’t like rejection. For some reason I am sure that all of the men over the age of 21 think I’m an idiot and want nothing whatsoever to do with me.  I’m not sure what happens between the ages of 21 and…older, but there’s some sort of switch that gets flipped that makes me not quite so endearing and charming.

I don’t get it.  I want to understand how to flip that switch BACK (because, darnit, I want a world where I am always endearing and charming!) in cute men above the drinking age (even though I don’t drink…).

Any suggestions?   Truly, dear bloggysphere, I need your help.  Impart your wisdom. Share your stories.

Help me help myself!


and one more…

Posted in blogging, etcetera, i am your american idol, me on September 6, 2007 by drbolte

could i procrastinate ANY more?


she’s your good childhood friend, you met her last week,
he’s your orthodontist’s dog walker’s son
if you love all of them and you use the same words
how can you make me believe i’m the one?

the old men in suits that talk of U.S. inflation
aren’t speaking of just dollars and dimes;
they could easily be talking about love’s circulation
and how your value just hit some hard times.

your love isn’t love if it’s common and known
to anyone that you’ve ever met
don’t tell me you love me; it’s empty for now
until you make me believe you forget.


you’re angry–you say, “words are just words;
and my actions speak louder than all.”
it’s true, i could listen to your arms around me,
but i’d like to avoid this close call

see for me love is sacred, the words precious and true–
i don’t toss them around just for sport;
competing with the memory of all your past adorations
is exhausting and i always fall short.


Your words don’t say anything worth listening to
when you have just passed them around

Your words don’t say anything worth listening to
when you have just passed them around

updated: i write the songs that make the whole world…groan?

Posted in blogging, dissertation, etcetera, i am your american idol, me on September 5, 2007 by drbolte

Yeah, so I wrote some lyrics today.

A pal of mine asked me to, to which I was like “uh, no.”

And then, I woke up this morning and desperately wanted to procrastinate the day of my dissertation work had some stuff on my mind that needed expression and so I started working on it. It was sort of a challenge–could I do it? Maybe an offshoot of what I wrote about yesterday on Velveteen Mind.

This is what i have. Yeah, i’m pretty sure it’s not cohesive. Yeah, i’m pretty sure I’m not Bernie Taupin (and if you don’t know who that is…wow.)

And, in the spirit of abandoning fear, I’m posting it here. Don’t steal it. Consider it copyrighted, sucka:

if i wished to see the world through your eyes,
would it be a better place?
full of butterflies and our sunset talks,
crazy love and amazing grace?

could i capture your smile in a bottle,
and wrap my fearful heart in yours?
would i finally understand what you see in me,
and why we are met by only slamming doors?

life’s full of wishing times,
when words seem empty and the stars too bright,
when all i want is your hand in mine,
but all i get is this prayer tonight.

wish i may and wish i might…
but you’re too far away on this perfect night
so my love for you is wrapped up tight
in the wish i make on a distant light

when i wished to see through your eyes,
i didn’t know you’d begin to see through mine–
a world colored by an imperfect heart and
the flickering spark of divine.

can you see my swingsets and silly laughter,
perfect moments and rain-soaked dances?
the way i love you when there’s no reason left
and how you keep me taking chances?

Say of it what you will. I just am not entirely sure what’s missing yet. I’m gonna let it percolate while I wax brilliant on how Austen uses the trope of travel to describe information and gossip.

(Yeah, you know you’re impressed.)

I am Regis Philbin to Megan’s David Letterman

Posted in blogging, friends, shameless blog thievery on September 4, 2007 by drbolte

I’m guest hosting!



Come check me out….and read around the blog. It’s amazing…definitely one of my “must reads”.


Uh, and yeah, it doesn’t suck that I’m now on it.