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!

Budgets and Beers and Boys in Bands in Bars

Dog sitting.

A time of solitude and reflection.

Meditation.

Betterment.

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.

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!

Beware the Ides of November

I've been at Hard Times for a couple hours.
I woke up at Augsburg, and divvied out my bus fare for a cup of coffee and one refill. Sufficiently caffeinated, and tumbled out, I now blog.

Yesterday, I came to Augsburg and went to the Feminist Collective meeting. Erin runs it and it's fun to see the new faces and new view points, but it was also weird because I've been out of academia SO LONG... kinda... And when I used to go to Feminist Collective meetings, I would be pretty quiet, shy, reserved, hyper aware of my ignorance... but now, with a bunch of first years I feel like an overgrown snob.

After the meeting, Erin and I went to Kfai. Mayda was performing, and everyone was really excited. I worked on the blog, facebook, and made a tumblr. I really hope to become established with the social media thing.

Next week, The Sunny Era is playing, and I'm really excited to fan-girl out.

Today, knowing that my apartment will only bring sleep and dismay, I have stayed in Cedar Riverside.  

I read a letter yesterday. A letter offering free fare for three weeks of the Arizona Renaissance Festival. I'd let that dream fizzle after the North Carolina blunder, but suddenly, with my current state of affairs, the prospect again seems promising.

I don't want to be dependent on anyone though, and I thought, "Hell, if I go for three weeks, why not go for the whole thing?" So I emailed John Coiner Pottery where my dad worked many years ago. I know pottery, I know Ren Fairs, February and March suck... sooo...

But the mere THOUGHT of North Carolina lost me my place in my band, and I worry that two months away might hurt my position with the Cocktails, and I love them. 

If I went, I'd somehow pay for December rent, and then move home for a couple months. It couldn't be that bad... right? ... Again, I go through all that I know that I MUST do to stay healthy at home, and know that I'd get fat on the red chair watching Netflix.

And college loans.
Wtf.

I'm considering trying to busk Christmas songs, but I'm scared of panhandling politics. And trumpets are loud. Yesterday, I read an article about a Carlton student who juggled to pay rent, and now she's all professional. I want to build my own Hurdy Gurdy.

Fred and Daley showed up. I'm going to go read by them.       

Domestic Blog

I'm on a blogroll.

I don't think I actually know what a blogroll really is, but it's not being underlined in red, so it must be real.

Yeah... so it is what I thought it was... a roll of blogs... but anyway.

I'm on a roll. I woke up this morning with a Walking Dead/Breaking Bad influenced zombie vampire animorph queer romance fan-fic dream in my head. When I sat down to write the one bit, a whole plot developed, and it's actually quite cool. Though it weirded me out when I transitioned to teenage girl handwriting when I did it. Hm.

Then I wrote my first Live From Studio Five blog. Check it out!

THEN I wrote on my Tumblr.

Now, I write in my quiet, domestic blog.

Because, Ah! As much as I would have loved to go to Farm Party, Erin couldn't, and now I get a whole day to recharge, not blast my liver, and prepare for coming adventures. I can read Moby Dick, The Ethical Slut, or my beloved, "Social Civics." I can nap unbounded, stay up watching Arrested Development, or go to bed early.

Then, tomorrow, I will be totally charged for my long awaited video game date. Well rested, and not hazed with other lovers and hang overs. So that maybe I will actually enjoy my video game experience. Granted they do actually share, and don't get bored after 20 minutes of Mario Kart because they are actually into video games, and would rather play some intricate role play for one person while I sit on the sidelines trying fretfully to follow the plot for some kind of entertainment as I simultaneously try not to gauge my eyes out with the assortment of writing utensils I can now carry freely in my new back pack...

I look forward to today.

The Illustrious Rise of Fannie Blough the Fifth

Haha, real jobs. Silly couple of weeks ago Lily.

Soon, I will be the official blogstress for the Liquid Music Blogosphere, and maybe even for KFAI's Live From Studio Five. I know I would be good at it, and this kind of exercise will be good for my writing skills. Though, I'm a bit slow to sign on my commitment, because I barely ever blog here, and when I do, it's not very exciting. But with these sites, I suppose I better know my audience...

I wish I would have Augsburg Blogged better...

Anyway. I can keep trying. The ongoing Auggie Saga.

I've been reeling over the Renaissance Festival, particularly this last weekend. It's all in a manic, whirlwind, intoxicant hazed blur, and now here I am.

After summer semester in the University of Life, I think I got a 2.5 in choices, a 3.5 in drinking, 4.0 in relationships (stumbled a little at first, but I got my shit together in the end for an excellent final project), and a 4.0 in Fun.

There's more that could be said, but I write today because with Fest over, I lament the good times and the good people I had only just had the chance to know, and then, days later, realize that it doesn't have to end.

You see,
At this moment, you are speaking to Fannie Blough. That's right, THE Fannie Blough the Fifth of Cocktail fame.

Story goes like this:
I'm sittin' on the Morris Knoll, nibblin', flirtin', and shmoozin' when a woman says, "You play trumpet?"
"Yeeah."
"Do you want to play in a rockin' girl band with boy dancers?"
"Hell yeah, I do!"
"Um. Are you ok with wearing a corset?"
"Hell yeah, I am!"
"Great! We're called, "The COCKtails."
"Hell yeah."

***

Today, I had my first practice.
The Cocktails consist of four women, all interconnected and incestuous amongst the local FOLK community. I get to play bawdy, traditional and fun dance music, dress up, plot the notorious tree of Family Blough, and hang out with some of the coolest people I have had the chance to meet in my short time here (the World).

My first Cocktail cocktail had chocolate ice-cream in it.

!!!

Lastly, a prayer:

Dear Universe,
As I hunker into my couch to stay up all night watching Sherlock Season Two, I want to say thank you for your generosity. After many years of questioning my identity, that of being jugglersexual, I finally decided to come out to the world, and openly pursue my true feelings. I said to you, "Oh Universe, please, help me find a juggler to call my own." And universe, you delivered... Not saying he, or any juggler should be, "mine" necessarily, but Universe, you gave me the strength and the opportunities to thrust myself into the juggler community. And I did. And it's fun.
Amen

Verve

Quick blog to get my juices flowing as my coffee kicks in.

I need to power write two cover letters. They are both casual, so I need to be spunky and show my true self. All my spunk and verve. Because I truly am a rockstar.

I was productive yesterday too, I'm getting all my shit in order because I'm going to have a real job soon. I do hope it is soon. As soon as something sticks. Ah!

Happy Childhood

I had a very happy childhood.

I feel that I can look back with few regrets, and I wasn't terribly scarred.

Unfortunately, I do think much of what made my early youth so pleasurable, is now responsible for much of my young adult suffering. Mainly, the fact that I don't know how to cook for myself, or work a vacuum cleaner.

Yes, both of these examples are exaggerations, but today especially feels like a wake up call. I quit my job. I have some regrets, but I am really glad that I don't have to go back there. I need a job that doesn't lend itself so easily to whiskey breakfasts and a deep seeded loathing for humanity. "The sides are listed right where it says 'Signature Combos,' right there, which you must have seen because that's what you fucking ordered."

I also wanted my freedom.
How starry eyed of me.
I'm not going to starve. I just need to lay off my delicious food habit. Learn to cook. That's step one.
Step two is the bigger question of housing.
This apartment is NASTY.
It smells and no one cleans. It's dark. The shortage of windows make for little air flow. There is no microwave, blender, or supply of wash rags.

All taken for granted.

I've been distracted from this post.

I wish I could play trumpet at night

My room feels like a vacuum of creative energy.
That's not true, in the past couple weeks, this room has fostered the creation of THREE acrylic paintings (none of them finished yet, unfortunately) and at least a few hours of solid trumpet practicing... yet, when it has come to writing lately, I've been a void.

So today, I went to Merlin's Rest, where I sang sea shanties with Will, Alexa, and the rest of the shape note crew, or at least the ones that I know. It was fun (the first song they sang when I got there was General Taylor, which I know from my favorite Great Big Sea album). It's a slippery slope indeed, and the next thing I'll know, I'll be singing shapes on Tuesdays. They are all so nice, so open with hugs and acceptance, and the beauty, history and culture that the songs hold hits me in my core with every closing harmony.

I just saw a giant bug crawl by. Erin saw a bug this week, and said, "Ew, I hate ear wigs." I didn't think ear wigs existed up here, and the thought of them is terrifying. Ew. I hate ear wigs.

After singing I stayed at Merlin's, read a little bit from one of the zines I bought at Boneshaker, and then wrote  a letter for the first time in a while over a tall glass of Pimms. Mmmm, Pimms, a summer drink made with Gin, oranges, strawberries, apples, mint and cucumbers.

From there, my writing energies still bubbled, but I knew that if I came back here, they'd allude me yet again, so I went to the C.C. Club for the first time. Pretty cool. Lots of bikes outside. Tattoos. Cake on the jukebox. I wrote another letter, and then became absorbed in a zine called, "The Last Words of a Fucking Asshole." Now, the cadence of the author's candid narrative still courses through my head.

Because it's so personal, and HAND WRITTEN, I feel the urge, a need even, to write back. Letters come easy to me, and I want to zine back and say, "I love the sound my bike makes when it doesn't shift right too, and I know what it feels like to be swept away by those fits of mania, can we get together and talk about seratonin some time?"

And this after only tonight expressing in letter one that I didn't like how my experience of zines thus far has mostly been people with creative illusions that think their lives are amusing... while at the same time struggling with the idea that my very own core philosophy rests on the necessity to share our stories, no matter how trivial.

My zine will have pictures.

I have a big day tomorrow, what with work and wooing, but I don't want to sleep. I'll find something to do. South Park, for example.

Uptown girl... buh duh duh duhduh duhduh Uptown World

I've been a resident of Uptown for almost two weeks now, and where am I?

Hard Times.

The internet at my new place continues to be unsuccessful, and today, I met Erin for brunch at Seward Cafe. I'm feeling very post-grad, mobile, and existential.

I'm still reeling from the last couple weeks: My last paper (I had my first post-college anxiety dream, in which I woke up ((In the dream)) thinking, "OH NO! I DIDN'T ACTUALLY TURN IN THAT PAPER!!!")
My 22nd Birthday (Being 20 was so long ago! Will I be as cool as 25 year olds when I'm 25?)
Graduation (Still not really done... radio internship and all, but I don't want to pay for it).
Grandparents (They've been ridiculously old since I first met them in their 60s...)

AH! I LIVE IN AN APARTMENT, AND I HAVE ENOUGH LOANS TO SUPPORT A FAMILY OF 5 FOR AT LEAST 3 YEARS, AND I WANT TO RUN AWAY, BUT MAYBE I MISSED THE MANIA, AND WILL END UP STAYING IN MINNEAPOLIS YET ANOTHER WINTER.

When I got back from Grandparents', I went to a concert at the Nomad. Second Hand Ska Kings, Matt Wixon's flying Circus, STOP DROP, and ROCK STEADY BREAK FAST.

Lolololol.

I hope this doesn't come up if you google those bands... hm.

In that case, and in all seriousness, the whole show rocked. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially after I escaped the weird headspace that plagued me for the first hour.

You see... there's this particular woman... girl, really, who I've been loathing for about a month now. Blah blah blah, non-monogamy, ethics...

For a while, she haunted this whole neighborhood, and then, when I moved to Uptown, I'd see a blonde coming around the next block and brace myself to pounce. Eventually, I got sick of the anger, but wasn't able to really resolve it.

Until... Right before the show, I came to pregame on Coffee at Hard Times, and the blonde around the corner actually was her... and I hid.

But then, I emerged, was civil, and later told her that I am still really upset about the situation, but I don't want things to be bad... and now, while I may never see her again ever, I feel better. !

Life Starts on Tuesday. If a job equals a life... and if that job is fast food, if it really counts as anything...

Haha, actually, my fast food job is going to rock, and I'm really excited. I've been biking around more the last few days, so the 12 mile commute won't kick my butt. That won't really pick up for a while, and even when it does, the shifts are bearable... I wish I only needed the one job. :(

I hope to find another job serving somewhere so I can have funds to sit on in the fall, but I also want to get the most out of this free summer as possible.

Kfai internship. I will email Doug NOW.

Bicycles.

Metamorphosis

I sit in the comfort of my Aunts' house, sipping my hard earned flex point bulk Pepsi with PRIDE, I don't care how much everyone judges me. On the Rocks.

My metamorphosis into an independent being is about to reach another phase today, for I shall leave the safe havens of family and plunge into a basement apartment with craigslist strangers.

Good thing they turned out to only be craigslist strangers by coincidence, and friends of a friend in actuality. I'm really excited, and I'll even have my dear Kathy with whom to share a bed. (Last night Nathan taught me the difference between who and whom. I think I got it right. I want to bring it back, because it's dramatic).

Yesterday was marvelous, and in spite of my initial qualms upon finding Uptownians to be too CLEAN, I think I will have a place there. Though it will be practically impossible not to spend all of my money. I rode my bike all around, stopping first at my new apartment to grab my backpack, then to an art store where I got myself a great present:

A new sketchbook.
3 new pencils, HB, 2H and 5H, Yum.
A gummy eraser
A sharpener
A Prismacolor marker pen for out lining

I then tried them out on a wildlife encyclopedia at the Uptown Library.

Then it was back to the Aunts' to regather. I thought of a FANTASTIC date, and then waited anxiously for Nathan to arrive.

We hastened to Lake Calhoun, and boarded the sailboat we at first thought we missed. There were fun people and a flamenco guitar. From there, it was tasty domestic brews at Williams Peanut Bar, and then romantic wine at Barbette.

As soon as I leave here, it will be a hustle and bustle... I suppose I'll be expected to socialize... and once Ani leaves, I should un pack, lest I live out of boxes until July like last year. How did Janelle handle it?

Then, Saturday morning, my mom and I go to missouri again.

Every New Beginning is another new beginning's End

I end as I began... In the Honor's Suite, eating Cheez-its.



I am drawing out the completion of this paper, for once I hit send, I'm done.

For good. 

It will be interesting to see what end I end up actually missing... Will I really miss cheez-its and coke that much? 

Will I miss my classmates?

What about the squirrels, the practice rooms, the quad? 

I'll miss the cotton wood trees.

My professors. 

The outlets for academic discussion...

None of it's really leaving... Except me...

Huh.

Ok. I'll have another blog before the real end I'm sure, but ... here I go.