Holidaze

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.

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.

Now?

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.

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.

Yes?

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."

Yyyyup.

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.
Tweet.
Bill.
Seamus.
MossMan.
Gator Gal.
That herp night with all the wine.
Boys.
Boys. Boys. Boys.
Kisses.
Wisdom.

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.

Oh.

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...

WOOOO!

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.

A Once and Future King

As you may know, I've been ovaries deep in Game of Thrones of late. I still have about 200 pages before I can take a deep breath, read a few more chapters of Moby Dick, and then plunge back into the next 4 books, so that I will finally be able to talk to my friends again. Without spoilers.

Well, the back cover of my copy (Featuring Sean Bean < 3 in Aegon's sword throne) it reads, "Reminiscent of T.H. Whites a Once and Future King, this novel is an absorbing combination of blah blah blah, [myth], [history], [personal], [boobs]." 

It's been on my mind, and from there, I go from talking about a gloriously addicting book that provides hours of fun, conversation with friends new and old, in addition to fantastically nerdy pick up lines, I proceed to talk about my feelings. 

No one likes a break up.

A lot of me fears relationships as a whole simply because I know they will have to come to an end, and that means going through the Bitter Break-up. I guess that proves that deep down, I am in this relationship game for the long run, that my ultimate goal is to find someone that I will not have to ditch.

But in youth and adolescence, the end is inevitable (Like how Michael tells George Michael that he can't date Maybe, because he's 15 and even though they're not related, it WILL end).

Yet meanwhile, I watch close friends and beloved family members tie the knot. 

The legacy of Josh the First still holds that the only point of dating is to scope out for marriage. It seems extreme and ultimate, yet ... yeah. To his credit (Josh the First easily holds a seat in my long time friend cabinet, anything I say about him is with the utmost respect) his views on relationships have become less extreme. Again though, who doesn't just want a lifetime of happiness?

So I tried Polyamory. I hate even saying that word. "Non-monogamy" works better... but what it comes down to is the idea that dating doesn't mean marriage. Dating means dating. It makes sense if you want to play the field, and the non-monog dialogues I learned hold true when it comes to HONESTY, youth, freedom and reckless decisions. 

For example, when tumbling in the sheets with a new partner, having been on one, two, three whole dates by now and well, your belt is coming off. That is when you say, "Hey, I actually subscribe to a post-modern ideal of relationships, reminiscent of the "free-love" movement of Victoria Woodhull in the late 1800s, recognizing that we all have the right to enjoy our bodies on our own terms, and further, as Foucault would argue that our choices in relationships do not necessarily define ourselves as individuals. This being said, I am currently engaged in multiple relationships, each of us moving forward in constant dialogue based on honesty, safety and autonomy. Still wanna bone?"

In lay person terms, i.e. for those who don't feel it necessary to over analyze everything from major life decisions to what to have for breakfast, "Hey bro, I'm not looking for anything serious. K?"

Two whole significant summers ago, I found myself in a relationship that made sense. I liked it. I was in love. I became a Prince. His Prince.

Yet, in the Game of Thrones you either win or you die, and I am a King.

Too Tired for Feelings

Waking up too early.

Working hard all day, mentally, physically, both.

Dealing with people, the environment, and myself.

Get home. Exhausted. Make a lunch for tomorrow and count the hours until it's ok to go to sleep again.

In those hours, in clarity of mind, feel. Feel things that I was too busy wallowing in to notice. Not now. I only have time for living these days.

But life goes on.

Not Wearing Pants, My Anti-Drug

Eyes snapped open after a failed attempt at an already too late bed-time.

The excitement to move is finally kicking in. Probably because tomorrow's the day.
Until this point, I felt reluctant, unmotivated and even hesitant about moving, but now it's actually happening, and entering a new space is always a fun process.

I couldn't stop thinking about my action plan: Wake up as if it were a work day, 5:45am up and at it, clean out the van, move my small boxes from the cabin into bigger boxes, manuever mattress from old room! ...
... But... do I want to try to move my bookshelf? It's perfect for my book needs in addition to being an ideal fit for Kraken's tank. What about my Encylopedia Brittanicas? They are heavy, but would provide knowledge as well as table space. I need a dresser. Is it worth purging ALL the clothes from my past, and hauling my big pine dresser out of the corner? It would be heavy, and probably wouldn't fit in this round of moving anyway... but... space! And decorations... I could bring my muskrat skin, and my Civil War poster, and my little black Dala Horse. My new room will be beautiful... but... I'll only be there for 5 months. 5 months of heavy living, I'll have to move in a LITTLE! So why not make it comfy?

At this point, I gave up on sleep, and did a preliminary purge of clothing. Only a small number of items didn't make the cut, but I got it down to three boxes, and that's including bedding!

And, as a hippie, who should own "nothing and nothing," I brace myself for future renegades.

Because let's say I set a long term goal of being accepted into "Project Conserve" in North Carolina next year. My experience by then will be a solid nudge. I even have a chance of being a LEADER!

And WHERE exactly?

Asheville. Asheville, North Carolina, a city who caught my eye years ago and commenced to woo. It's about time I ran to their arms, and under whims more realistic than in two days in the back of some stranger's truck.

Yeeeahh.... that happened.

I just checked out their website... the next term starts this September, and I'll be with my Minnesota Corps until December. Maybe I'll be in my new room a bit longer!

A lot is up in the air, but a lot is also solid.
After only two weeks in the Conservation Corps I feel my future stirring. ... I must avoid cliches that echo the t-shirts, "Resources Restored, Lives Changed."

But yeah, my life is already changed.

*Title taken from a lovely game of Cards Against Humanity. That, and I'm doing that thing where, because you never do laundry, when you do, you do as much as you most possibly can.

Sunrise over the City

9:00am
Back on my Minneapolis turf.

Feeling as lost and disconnected as ever.

Home was good; delicious pork fat still clings to my bones.

I feel ready to really hit my new life... but my aggressively stubborn laziness stirs me into a fit. This morning, I returned to my (old?) apartment. They've already made it all nice, with rugs, light bulbs and a new shower curtain. I can't help but believe they did it on purpose to make me regret my decision to bail on a moment's notice. I am stuck financially. This might keep me tied to others while I really wish to be alone... but like Rita said, she wasted a lot of money on living alone that could have been saved if she was just ok with having roommates, and if this thing works out with Kathy's friend, I'll have a lot of money saved, and I'm sure it will be tolerable.

I am afraid of being too far away from friends, but the City as it is keeps us all quite close. Soon, the season will improve for the bicycles, and my world will be smaller.

I am hesitant to nest in a place I know isn't permanent. All the while fearing permanence.

I fear a living experience that will drive me apart from Kathy, even though evidence suggests that's impossible.

Then what about the Conservation Corps?
I start in one short week, and right of the bat, I'll be enlisted from early till 5:30 every day at least until March. It will be a brand new adventure, but not unlike many other adventures I've had. I'll make new friends and we'll grow close through organized activities. I will be able to shine as a bright new face, with talents, skills and quirks that will add to everyone's experience. It will foster my endeavors, my high hopes and dreams. It will blanket the next 10 months with a comfortably temporary security.

As I reach the dregs of my first cup of Cafetto coffee, the luke warm swill is... smooth... and easy on the palate. I miss home and the bitter, too long in the french press, parent preferred drug.

Last week, I left here sad and nostalgic. Now I'm back, sad and uncertain.

Feeling inspired though. Going to check off the blog roll!