Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Grown Up

Here's to hoping that a quick blog post will get my juices flowing so I can finish JUST ONE of my Minnesota Historical Society applications. I know it's all part of the bureaucratic process... weed out the unworthy, blah blah blah... but really.

Each application requires the MHS standard paperwork, as well as the supplemental application for the site, the availability forms, consent waivers, a resume and a cover letter. I'm looking at eleven pages of work for one app... and this is just the one I really want. There are others.

So I drank some Tequila.

If I just drink the Jameson, I'll finish it, and I'm not THAT rude of a house guest.

You see, I'm house sitting. This gig entails throwing wood into stoves every few hours, talking to cats, eating pineapple, and watching Netflix. Pretty standard. Today, in chatting with me mum, we decided that I could make a career of this shit. I love animals, and I love pretending to be a grown up. What better way than by infiltrating the very homes of the grown ups, eating their grown up food, and enjoying their grown up luxuries. All while not constrained by the suffering that is also being a grown up. WOOO!

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Budgets and Beers and Boys in Bands in Bars

Dog sitting.

A time of solitude and reflection.



A paid hiatus.

This time around, I thought I'd do a purge of sorts. Yesterday, I left my house and all bad habits behind,  so that this weekend, I can purify my mind, body and spirit after a real whirlwind of a holiday season.

I'm so serious right now, that I'm drinking juice, and not the stuff you get in a jug. No. I made juice with an actual, "Magic Bullet." Spinach, Peas, Strawberries, Blue Berries, and Raspberries. Yup. Nothing says purge like Juice Fast!

However, there IS a freezer full of frozen pizzas, and… I probably won't be able to resist cooking up a beef tenderloin tonight. B & L brought home 50lbs of beef, and told me to eat it. Soooo…

It's three pm, and for once I am wishing it was dark out, as I feel guilty plugging into Netflix while the sun still shines… Even if that sun is shining on an 8 below day.

You see, my seasonal Mall job ended, so now I'm retired. Unlike my other Conservation Corps Peers, I delayed retirement for a whole month. I'm glad I did, but now they're all getting jobs already, and I'm just starting my new life. A life that, five days in has been a blast.

Under a week ago, I went with a Boy to see a Band called the drug Budget. I think my subconscious had a plan for me, because while on the surface I was like, "Whatever, I know these people…" Deep down, the intent was to summon the courage to get back with them. I did. I am through the roof excited.

This will increase both my trumpet output, and free beer input, which when combined greatly expands the party factor. Exponentially cooler than PAYING for drinks, and WATCHING other people perform.

All of this important to consider over the coming months as my retirement budget shrinks and shrinks.

Four more days here. I'll be back.

Monday, December 30, 2013


Since I have only one loyal follower, and they want to hear about my Holidays, here's my post about the Holidays.

For me, they began a couple weeks ago when the Corps ended. On Thursday and Friday I was up at the Audobon Center in Sandstone. It was fun, but over all seemed like another All Corps experience. I had to work that Friday night, but I still made it to the end of the after party. I didn't cry.

The next day, I worked at the Mall. I also had a hangover. I've only had a couple real bad hang overs. Soon, I'm going to have to stop saying that... You see, I had rum. Lots of rum-in the delicious form of egg-nog- and beer, and maybe some more beer.

Oh yeah! Meg came over after the party, we sat on my bed and looked at my dead animal parts collection. It was magical, and I'm really glad she appreciated.

Anyway, I wanted the Corps to go out with a bang, but it simply ended, and I kept working. One of the biggest things I learned with the Corps has been work-ethic. I have always had a strong sense of responsibility, but in the work world I've found it really easy to get bored and simply quit. So far that hasn't had bad consequences, but the Corps has offered a sense of the greater goal. Yeah, I have to work 10 hours at the fucking Mall of America. Yeah, I have to do it three days in a row, but then I'll pay rent and other stupid bills to stay in my pretty nice house with a great roommate, and maybe I'll go get a burger and brown ale at Merlin's. Hell yeah.

Or some Grainbelts in Dinky Town. Which I did on the 18th. In addition to the Facebook invite, I received a personal invite from an accordion playing Renaissance acquaintance. I'd seen his band play before, notably this last Halloween, which was a great time, so I put it on my calendar and eagerly anticipated. I went, and I danced, and I smoked cigarettes on the patio and made friends and then we went back to his place for more celebrations, and we talked about Beethoven and it was lovely... and again, I ended up going to work hung over, and later missing Cock Tail practice. :(

In contradiction to prior posts, this still isn't the year I go to Arizona. However, I spoke with Sleazy Bleise the other day, and he's not even going out there until March. So what's to say I won't get a job with St. Paul Parks slated for April and quit the mall in March? Go on a vacation. Follow my Mom's advice. If not, oh well. I'll keep trying.

Which reminds me of another holiday I celebrated: The Solstice!
It happened last week, on the 21st. I went to The Dregs Christmas show at a bar Down Town with Matt from the giant Chess Board. It was great. They did parodies of holiday songs, including, "4 fucking birds, 3 fucking birds, two more fucking birds and a fucking bird in a pear tree!" And finally calling out "Baby, It's Cold Outside" for the date rape anthem that it is...

Wait. Can we talk about that? How there was definitely a stink about Robin Thicke's, "Blurred Lines" this summer, yet every year we put, "Baby it's cold out side so let me clearly disregard that No means no" On repeat in every institution? Bull shit.

So at the Dregs I drank beer. I had one before Matt arrived, and JUST as he got there, the drunk bro next to me was about to chat me up, which could have easily lead to free drinks... but Matt came and helped me avoid the awkward... even if it could have meant free beer. Then I had some more beer. Then the great and beautiful Anna arrived. Anna who always sees me at the BLT in the height of my drunken glory... or in her booth... making out with her brother.

One time at the BLT, I bowed down in worship to her. Like actually on my knees. She's wonderful and everyone loves her, and even though I know I'm hot shit, I feel gawky and boyish around her. Well, she offered to cut my hair... and like... hang out... omg. This will keep me from making rash hair decisions, for one, and for another we get to be friends!!!

I owe her brother a letter.

The holiday after that was Christmas itself. I could have gone up to Duluth on Monday, but there's some family drama there, so I stayed home and did laundry. On Christmas Proper, Aunt Beth picked me up and we had brunch at their house. They gave me a little notebook for my thoughts, and a book of an interview Foucault did in 1968 about how writing comes out of your own death... or something. It's him speaking on writing, which is really cool. I can't wait to start.

I gave them a cookie from the first and last tree I cut with the Corps.

Now we're here. Is tomorrow already New Year's Eve? I want to go to Merlin's for a burger... but if I'm going to be there tomorrow... TOMORROW?! I have a gig with the Cock Tails and Bitter Mash Boys, but since I've missed the last few practices I might have to sit out a lot. I'll still corset up, and I practiced the other day and wasn't even that bad. This next weekend is a Morris Twelfth Night party... and then... it's just the bleak midwinter.

Maybe I'll straighten up.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Playing Hookey

I write from Ogilvie from my Mom's lap top I'm hoping to snatch when I leave. My good old lappy's keys are falling out and it makes it really hard to type, even though there has been much going on to share these days.

I played hookie from work today. I really can't afford to, not this close to the end with volunteer hours to make up, but after a solid 9 hours of sleep, my alarm went off at 5:45am, I shirked against the sound of the bitter wind blowing at my windows, thought of what 10 hours out in that would do to me, and said, "Oh hell no."

My dad picked me up and we came home for Thanksgiving early.

Now I'm here, safe and warm in the darkness, when I would have just now been finishing my day outside in the dark, and hoping against the odds to make the train by six fifteen. Ha.

Two weeks left of the Corps, then full time at the Barnes and Noble Cafe.

I have great aspirations for winter time. We'll see if I follow through.
If I don't, it means it must not really be what my heart truly wants. It seems that that's the advice I receive consistently. "Well Lily, what feels right?" I hate that... I just want answers.

Saturday, November 9, 2013


I think it's happening.

I think I might actually go to the Arizona Renaissance Festival.

Last year, I could have gone to North Carolina. Maybe you remember. Caught up in the Minnesota Festival's magic, I almost got spirited away. Had I gone, it would have been fine, but instead, I stayed and made quite the life for myself here.

I've got Morris Dancers. That right there is really enough to get me to stay here forever. Stay, dance, sing, blow... What else could I ask for?

A whole year has passed since I almost DID IT. I am in the Conservation Corps now. I have worked harder than I have, and probably ever will.

I've loved the Corps. It has provided me with everything I hoped it would. I feel so much connection to, and pride for the CCC, and the Corps it is today. If I didn't know I would make such a horrible crew leader, I'd sign on again. Who knows. Maybe I still will.

I'm still 23. Young. Third Grade in my playground metaphor, where K-3 get a recess, 4-6, and then in 7th grade, no more recess.

Right now, I am king of the playground. I conquered college. I owned Ameri-corps. I'm young, and hot, and full of potential. Next year, at 24 the pressure of, "What's next? hmmm?" Will be even stronger. I don't even want to get into 25!

Every time a lease, a term, a semester ends, the question is raised, "Now?"

Is this the break where I take off, travel the circuit, write the novel that will pay me to go to grad school, and earn the stories my Children will fall asleep to?

Like my Father's tales of Orphie the Sheltie, thumbed rides to Canada, and fence posts full of quarters in Florida.

Yeah, I'll have my adventures here. Minneapolis is the heartland.

But I am a Morris.
Which, I looked up today, could possibly stem simply from someone adopting, "Morris" as a surname after having it be used as a nickname  for being dark and swarthy.


Does "Swarthy" mean desk job?
Or does it mean hop in a car with David Coppafeel's sister, go to AZ, pitch a tent and live a fantasy?

Who knows. Perhaps Sir Knight will be there. Lost, and forlorn after his, "Invested" has left for a greater land holder?

I do know there will be jugglers. Performers. Musicians. Acrobats. Potters.

If they have a talent show, I, a stranger, will play, "Carnival of Venice." Flawlessly. From Memory. ...?

They will know I am one of them.
Only then will I be a true blood festie.

Anyway. Think about it.
Corps now till December 14. Holiday season at the Mall through January something. Pay two months rent a head of time. Go to Arizona during the WORST part of winter. Come back, and THEN figure out what's next.


Tuesday, September 24, 2013

One Weekend Left

There's only one weekend left.

It is time. I'm ready.
I need it to end so I can launch into hibernation. Forget the wild freedom I feel out there, and continue settling into this being a grown up thing.

This year came in hard after months, MONTHS of counting down. 5am text messages to Wardo. I could only be there both days for the first two weekends (except for last week, when I skipped work...) so I partied as hard as I could. With mixed results.

I began to fear that I did not in fact learn from last year, that I am still young and dumb...
Wait... I am DEFINITELY still young and dumb. Just a bit more aware.

One particular weekend, I drank so much that the night before was hazy. I saw people I didn't remember meeting the next day. Others reminded me of conversations I'd forgotten having had. I crawled into tents I certainly should NOT have crawled into.

I crawled out.

The whole next day I spent dreading the first person to say something. No one did... Until the last half hour when Andy was like, "Lily! I've been telling noobs to take it easy! You know better."


After that and bowing down in worship to Anna one night which was "cute" I've pulled it together. So hard that I went to bed without even going to the BLT after the talent show, only to find out that my friends had been, "Those girls" after all this time of me being THAT girl on my own.

I worry a lot.

But this has been a great year.

Highlights include:
Being a full-fledged member of the Morris community.
Bowing down to, and consequently maybe almost befriending Anna.
Staying verticle and only making out a little bit each night.
Making out a little bit each night.
My pretend turned real courtship of Sir Marcus resulting in mature conversation and potential friendship.
Not chickening out of the Talent Show, even though it wasn't THAT great.
Mindy, Manny, Wardo, Jenny, Twan.
...Mindy, Manny, Wardo, Jenny, Twan.
Corinna, Sweet Lou, Rachel, Andy.
Gator Gal.
That herp night with all the wine.
Boys. Boys. Boys.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

In lieu of a light reflection on the beauty of the seasons

I woke up this morning with cramps.
I grew worried that last week's ordeal isn't over. Then I got annoyed with the most unabraisive person in the world. Then I wanted to cry. So, I checked my calendar.


I called my phone company to upgrade, but I already signed the ice cream thing and waited too long. Service rep was snotty, "Your email exchange was on August 14th, that was lyk, almost like a MONTH ago, and you're a dumbass." More or less.

I did cry. And called my mom.

She said to think of all the women before me who dealt with this before medication. They made it.

Or ended up institutionalized...


I want to write about the beauty of autumn. About what this summer ended up being like. How I made it through Eco Rangers with fond memories. How the Renaissance Festival is in full swing. But all that's on my mind right now is that it's Thursday. I go to work soon, won't get home till nearly bed time, and then it's run run run till Saturday, at which time I probably won't be able to get a ride till Sunday morning, and consequently miss Beer for Boobs. Life is hard.

There are only 91 days left of the Conservation Corps. I can't wait for it to be over, I hate 10 hour days. I hate dealing with poor supervisors (Your handbook says you're not supposed to work when it's a million degrees? Well, in the past we've just had crews work through it. Yeah. I hate you too).

There's nothing I can do about it, so I need to continue the mindset of it being my sentence. That helped with Eco Rangers... but... Eco Rangers is done, and I'm still here.

Not to mention all the other crap I'm dumping on myself right now; worrying about "what's next" because that's all anyone cared about at the wedding. Whatever.