...Pssst!

I'm back. But I'm over here now.

See you there?

Beginning Again

Things are great. I've landed a job that I had previously thought only possible in my imagination. It's allowing me to use my (English) major much more than the HR job I was working when I was pumping my ideas into the blogosphere in 2006.

Now that I've had time to take control -- and choose a direction -- I find myself missing the blog world. But wondering how, exactly, to jump back in has me thinking about how it all started for me in the first place.

In all honesty, I began writing this blog because of a guy. In late 2005, I was dating Paul, a UVA grad that was addicted to DC Bachelor. He was friends of friends of his, and found him hilarious. Paul encouraged me to read DCB's blog, too.

At the time, Paul was one of the nicest guys I'd met. So imagine my horror when I actually finally read DCB's blog. This was what my nice guy was reading every day? How could a nice guy possibly find this hilarious?

I found myself reading Roosh's blog every day, too. Not because I liked it. But because I had to unlock the mystery of how the guy opening doors for me on dates could be reading DCB at work the following Monday morning.

My blog routine was set long before things inevitably ended with Nice Paul. (I'm too loud-mouthed for that sweet UVA grad.) Whatever his views, Roosh can be funny. And infuriating. And ingenious.

Temping cube jockey that I was, Roosh's boldness was inspiring. It made me want to lend my voice to the conversation. It made me want to be a strong, vocal, female counter-note. Click through 2006, and I think you'll find a few examples of when I was able to do that successfully (though never to the same degree of popularity as DCB).

If anything, as I settle into something that I really enjoy doing, and am beginning to master, I find myself yearning to be part of something larger than myself, just as I had back in 2005.

I'll be checking in on my old blog friends this week, and commenting. I'm still trying to decide whether I can translate my new life (sans bartending and the punk band) into a voice that I think is worth listening to (or reading).

I'll keep you posted.

Caribou-Comfortable

I'm in hell. Or a very invasive version of shock therapy.

A man sat down next to me at Caribou, where I'm working b/c the internet is out at my office.

He's gabbing on the phone about his divorce, about how his kids are taking it, how he feels bad that his wife will have to grow old by herself, that he wishes he'd met his new girlfriend 12 years ago, only then she would have been 12.

"It's gonna take a while to deal with the kids," he just said.

"She'll be fine. She's strong, a survivor."

"She's gettin' fucking everything. My direct deposit from New York."

"That's a good idea -- I'll do that right away."

"Yeah, I mean I had to start a new life. I took Heather to Florida."



Is it appropriate to start crying in the middle of Caribou??

Workin' my *** off

I'm back to three jobs now and I love it.

I'm tired...

but it's awesome.

And no, I'm not counting the band. Perhaps I should though. OK, fine. Twist my arm. You win. I have 4 jobs.

This time it's different though. I actually have a direction in life. It's awesome. I hope to get more and more directional... something I can attribute to the Republican, I guess. There's something about being with an accountant that makes you want to get your ducks in a row...

The gauntlet was thrown, and I couldn't resist. So, yeah, 2 of the 4 jobs pay my bills. And the band is my passion. But the other, the newest... it might actually lead somewhere. And I can't tell you how excited I am.

Now I just need to find the time to sleep.

Oops.

I've been a bad friend this week. I've been ignoring more phone calls, completely unintentionally, than I'd like to admit. I swear I'm not trying to be rude. ...I've just been hanging out with the hottest guy I know. And the sweetest. And the most charming.

So, when I'm not working all night, I'm thinking about him all day, and it's a really fun feeling.

So... forgive me. I'll try to call tomorrow. Or Monday.

Mr. No-Game

So I'm addicted to Facebook right now. I've been trolling my HS classmates, my college friends, my preschool-mates, and my sorority sisters. It's a numbers thing. Not that I'm comparing my number of "friends" to anyone in particular. I'm just addicted to making that one number grow. People with sitemeters may be able to relate with me: It's much like the numbers challenge you face every time you check your hits.

Anyway.

A close friend whom I rarely speak to these days (but we play a mean game of phone tag) has always had her own obsessions: Getting into heaven the old-fashioned Jewish way, by making 3 matrimonial matches (and you thought those bubbies did it out of the kindness of their hearts!); making me one of those "matches"; and converting me so that the resulting offspring will also be Jewish.

It's a sickness I'm not sure she'll ever get rid of, and until she does, I'm forced to be the Ace in her back pocket: the Shicksa for all of the Jewish boys that say they're not "into" dating Jewish girls "right now."

Facebook has helped this friend keep her obsession(s) alive with very little intrusion into my own life. Case in point: she recently IMed to tell me that there was a strapping young man who was interested in me. She had forwarded him one of the less-flattering (in my opinion) pictures of me that are on my profile from my birthday (remember the red dress?).

He works for some kind of defense contractor (get in line, pal!) and so could not talk to me directly that day, but had his obnoxious NYC friend "screen" me. And then the man himself and I played some facebook-message-tag. Here's a classic, a message that I think sums up his character, as he represented it to me:

"Tragic news. But as I always do, I will regroup and move forward. Life's road blocks are mere character builders for me: they make me stonger. Like wild chicken.

So your friend Amy is cooking up a little something for us Saturday, I think you should find time between all the heavy lifting to show your pretty face and corresponding sweat stains.

As for my busy schedule as a top secret intelligence official - I am not sure how I even have time to write this. It is tough juggling my online stalking, fantasy sports, g-chat and saving our asses from the terrorist enemy. Man I am good.

Oh - so my point is that i''m not busy and we should get drinks sooner rather than later before you fall for a cuter and smarter version of myself.

So here I lay in my queen size, midnight has struck, and the stomach has settled. It is finally time to turn it over to E, Turtle and the gang. My correspondance will have to terminate.

end"

Can't you see why I was subsequently unable to keep myself from banging down his door? I even politely told my friend that I kind of had my own nice, Jewish boy these days (that I'd found myself, thanks to DS) but she was un-deter-able. She gave the guy my phone number and then he proceded to text message me, too.

Some call it "witty," but I call it an obnoxious and failed attempt to channel Adam Sandler.

Facebook=Friends, NOT dating.

But that's just my opinion.

Acting the Girlfriend

I've been single for a while now. Like, years.

I've found that single is most fun when I have a rotation going. Because I watch too much Sex and the City, I guess. Because I take the "eggs in one basket" saying to heart. Or because MamaRoar always stressed "dating around" back in High School when I was still too gawky for anyone to be banging down the door. (I'm over it. *Sigh*) Anyway.

It's been rare that I've come out of my usual MO: Rotation Mode. (Which, when you think about it, was just an insecure, defense mechanism more about hedging my bets than actually trying to attain intimacy). The instances were rare, but the reasons relatively simple. It was the kind of conversation that went on for hours. Or I really admired him. Or he ate it like a champ. ...but I digress. (Another post, another time).

The thing is, I've now found myself in a weird place. I'm dating one person who has respectfully requested that I not date anyone else. And I'm excited to comply. But MO-changing is difficult. I'm not sure enough people give that topic the lip service it deserves. Can that really happen over night?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not accepting any more dinner invitations. I'm not giving out my number and I'm not drunk dialing the fuck buddy. I like this guy. But years of being breezy, flirtatious Roar is a hard habit to shake.

I actually even considered not telling the people at my new job about this new thing because, well, it's new. But also: I wondered if they'd treat me the same way.

I guess the quandry beneath all of this is:
If I'm not "Available" who the fuck AM I?

And further, a process question:
How on earth am I now supposed to relate to other men?

Like I said: I like this guy. Any suggestions? Lip service, here we go...

Rerun

I'm going to be glued to my computer today, from 2-4pm. And no, it's not cuz I'll be blogging (though I'll probably be reading then, too).

I'm going to be listening to the Local Lowdown at SACReD (don't worry, it's not Christian radio). Cuz local bands need everyone's support. Cuz that's just how I roll. O yeah, and cuz I was there helping to record it. ...and what a(nother) fun medium!!

Read me but never met me? Wanna hear my live-canned voice? Tune in!