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August 27, 2003

nine months, it took.

Went to see Rear Window in Grant Park yesterday, with the gazillion other urban hipsters that brought picnics and did the same thing. I love this venue, but I always forget to bring a chair, so I end up fidgeting on the blanket like a little kid with ants in her pants.

there were, for the record, no ants, nor was i wearing pants. I was wearing a lovely silk skirt with a ruffled edge in a green the color of a lettuce leaf. mmm... silky skirt...

I don't need to tell you it was a fabulous time, with fabulous people, and fabulous beverages. I think that if I'm not bitching about something, it can be assumed that everything was coming up roses.

The only glitch of the evening? That we stayed out too late. Normally, I wouldn't be allowed to think "too late" of any evening, as I usually have nothing to do in the morning that would preclude sleeping 'til all hours and leisurely preparing for an afternoon of reading through the want-ads.

But Wednesday morning, at 9 o'clock, I started my new job.

yup, that's right, I landed a job. after nine months of looking, nine months of financial downhill spiral that landed me in my parent's guest room, nine months of wondering how the hell I was going to pay my bills....after these nine months, I've finally convinced someone to hire me as a part of their web design team.

it was worth the wait. I like being paid to wrangle pretty print into pretty pixels.

granted, there's no insurance, no bells and whistles, but....there's a paycheque.

and a great team of content providers.

and a super location - I love working downtown almost as much as I loved working in evanston.

I'm letting myself take a deep breath before looking for a part-time gig to fill in that 'health insurance' gap....

so here I go. taking a nice, deep, cleansing breath, while I decide what to wear to work tomorrow.

hee! I'm even giddy when I'm ironing!

Posted by Heather at 05:15 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

August 22, 2003

The Accidental Celibate

I promised my friend Japhet that I'd use this title on my blog soon, as the phrase had come up in conversation and it was just too too good to pass up. And I feel it applies today, as it's been almost a week since I've touched another human being in an intimate way and if that's not accidental celibacy, I don't know what is.

actually, I'm not sure I know if there can be such a thing as accidental celibacy - don't you have to make a conscious effort to not have sex in order for it to count as 'celibacy' rather than "just been too busy for the booty call?"

anyhoo, there it is, Japhet. much love in your direction, as always.

Other bits of info:

1) the interview seemed to go very well, from my point of view. I'd say more, but I gave them my web address so they can look at my portfolio. so, I say no more. Unless I get the job, and then I'll be all "this person said this today" and "I can't believe what so-and-so wore to the office" and then I'll get fired. suffice it to say that I like the company, the job as it's described, and the neighborhood - and the people seem cool.

2) I'm still painting at the boyz place. it's taking forever because:


  • I'm out of shape and need two days to recover from 4 hours of pushing a roller to and fro.

  • I have to paint the trim, and I'm jittery, and you're supposed to wait at least 24 hours before using painter's tape on freshly painted walls.

  • It's amazingly boring to spend the day by yourself, painting, with nothing but NPR and CDs to keep you company, even if your new boyfriend (yes, I'm thinking of him as the boyfriend now, don't tell him, okay?) gave you The Immaculate Collection to keep you company.

    • so, anyway. I'm bored, covered with paint with MILES of shiny trim to sand and give two coats of brilliant whiteness, and I'm thinking about exes.

    you know, the ones you're happy about losing.

    the ones who were so sweet, you thought you could 'beauty and the beast' into being worth their icky exteriors.

    the ones who were terribly bad in bed, but just cute enough to get you there on fantasy looks alone...

    the ones who started out not minding an open relationship, but once they realized that this meant both of you got to date other people, not just him, they suddenly got penis envy....

    the ones who only had one book in their apartment and wasn't planning on reading any others anytime soon.

    the ones who your friends and family secretly despised until they left you.

    no, I'm not thinking about the select three exes I still can't stop thinking about (who all live in california, who all have special folders of photographs in my photo suitcase that I can't ever let myself open, etc...). I've focused on the amazingly crappy ex-relationships that I can't believe I let happen in the first place.

    but I'm wondering if I should treat every new person in my life as if they'll eventually become people with whom I'm ashamed to have shared phone numbers.

    Although I'm learning to be an optimist, I can't help but think of my present as potential past. And I wonder why there have been few exceptions to the "hate 'em when they leave" rule. Or the "devalue them as soon as you leave them, so you don't accidentally take them back" rule.

    I'm still feeling like I'm the good guy when I don't slam them on my website, or make up really embarrassingly revealing nicknames for my exes.

    which I still do, for every one of them, but I feel like I should get points for not sharing the last five of 'em, which I'm pretty proud of in their creative negative scope....

    (giggling guiltily to myself as I scrape paint out of the crook of my elbow)

    Of corpse, I'm still madly amazed at my new fella. and I've been lucky enough to have quite a few exes become friends. I'm not sure why I'm dwelling on the whole "god, why the fuck did I date that guy?" thing, except for the fact that I've spent the entire day in a paint-fume-filled room in 101 degree heat.

    it must be the dehydration talking.

    Posted by Heather at 12:01 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

    August 20, 2003

    I promise, I'll be more wordy when things slow down...

    off to an interview this fine august afternoon - as per usual, I've got a new webcam pic to commemorate the occasion....

    not sure why I always wear my glasses to interviews - my mom thinks I'm trying to signal "ooh! she's smarty-smart-smart!" but I think I'm actually signalling "ooh! she's trendy-trend-trend!"

    yes, I love my glasses.

    and yes, I'm so nervous about this interview I am easily distracted - I just wrote two paragraphs about glasses, for fuck's sake!

    I'll let you-all know how it goes!

    fingers crossed!

    Posted by Heather at 11:54 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

    August 15, 2003

    back to the diary posts, for now.

    yes, I'm tremendously busy. for a change.

    what with the lust and the job search and the going to school, the painting house and managing The Jungle and giggling maniacally at the person who found my site when searching for "amazingly boobalicious"....

    I just haven't found a minute to write. or sleep. or do laundry.

    it's insane.

    speaking of insane, I have the world's largest bruise - basically from one ankle, up the back of the leg to the other ankle. no, it's not from anything saucy, this time - it's all about the standing on the ladder backwards to paint the supah-tall ceilings at the boyz place. thank god I'm being paid - not that it's worth it, really, but at least I'll have something to show for my bruise-tacular efforts. . . and in the mean time, you should come over and see the purpleosity - I'll show them to you if you come see The Jungle at Old Town!

    ooh, speaking of cocktail parties, guess who I saw at this last one?

    wrong!

    I saw my favorite ex!

    and yes, I looked more fabulous than when he saw me last.

    and no, I didn't cry - not once!

    Posted by Heather at 08:22 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

    August 13, 2003

    it's trading spaces, without the trade....or the annoying host....

    remember way back when I decided to become an apartment therapist?

    finally, I have my first client - I'll be painting and installing lighting in my dear friend's house today and tomorrow...just two rooms, but I'm anticipating it will make a huge difference in the whole scheme of things in their upstairs. especially the ceiling fans.

    and yes, I'm getting paid.

    and yes, I'm excited. I love that I can add "handywoman" to my steadily growing list of careers.

    anyone else need a bit of an apartment lift? I'm looking to install tile, sometime soon.....

    Posted by Heather at 09:56 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

    August 10, 2003

    Not the title I was planning for today, but I'll get to that one soon enough....

    it's that time, now.

    that time in fresh and new 'special friendships' where you sparkle in each other's presence, your cheeks hurt from smiling, you plan your date outfits carefully, lest you extend the date from

    "one lovely evening"
    to
    an evening-which-becomes
    "a late night"
    which becomes
    "an early morning"
    which becomes
    "brunch and shopping for new glasses and jaunty trousers."

    in which case, you need to look lovely but not just 'evening lovely' but 'all around the clock' lovely, lest people say you're in love.

    which may be the case, but we all know we don't have to be slutty about it...

    it's that time in the friendship where you've hinted around and finally confessed your true feelings, but you haven't yet negotiated the terms of the friendship.

    everyone who sees you together knows you're not exactly 'just friends'....but would it be too soon, even unseemly to call each other gentleman/ladyfriend at this point?

    and yes, I know we've all told the heather to plump up the balls and say what she feels, but isn't there a waiting period between

    "I'm so smitten with you I'll afraid I'll drown in a puddle of smit"
    and
    "so, where are we going with this relationship?"
    and
    "is it okay if we date other people...together...or is this going to be a monogamous dealio?..before you decide, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Carson. He's been dying to meet you."
    and
    "If I meet your mama, does that mean I can't play the dozens?"

    a waiting period known as 'romantic dating period' where you can be full of smit without any obligations other than responsible fluid exchange behavior and making sure to switch off who gets to pick the next movie.

    although arguing over whether spellbound counts, 'cause I dragged my feet on that choice, and if seabiscuit counts, 'cause he dragged his...that's not arguing, it's that horrific couple-type behavior that I dearly hope no one within a three mile radius heard us engage in, for fear of mass vomit attacks at the schmoopyness of it all...

    oh yes, and I'm wondering when I can have my cynicism and pessimism and general sense of ill-being back. this optimism, crazy-in-love-mooning, this 'cries in movies because she can suspend her disbelief and really care about the characters" thing has just got to stop before he thinks that's who I really am....

    although I think sometimes, when I'm feeling bravest, perhaps I can still weep in movies without being 'ms optimism midwest"

    hell, last time I fell in love, I told me3dia I had met the man I was going to marry. I was wrong, of corpse, but I guess I was optimistic then, optimistic enough to say silly romantic things out loud in public and not die of embarrassment. And I can still be optimistic now, even after everything that has happened since. That's a good thing, right? not a stupid 'doesn't see the next one coming' thing?

    right?

    not to totally tangent on ya, but I was just thinking, No One Ever tells me the stories where they thought "that's the man who will father my children' or "that's the woman I'm going to marry" in which they were wrong. what is up with that? Are we all just too afraid to be wrong a couple of times before we're right, or is it that when that thing happens, even if you've thought it before, you finally realize that this thing is different than all the times that happened previous to this one 'right' time?

    Posted by Heather at 12:59 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

    August 06, 2003

    in which she finally conjures the cojones to tell him.

    he knew.

    he totally, completely could tell, just like I thought he could. from that first kiss, even.

    he knew and he spent the last several dates trying to tell me, too.

    and he thought he was being all un-subtle, like, obvious, even.

    I was so caught up in the crushing on him, and the "not fucking things up by being psychotically head-over-heels so soon," I selfishly didn't even notice that he was crushing just about as hard.

    but twenty-twenty hindsight brings all that lovely crushing behavior to the forefront...

    dropping hints, blushing in all the right places...I can see it all now.

    you-all are right - life is too short to wait.

    it's so funny, nothing has changed as a result of my telling him how I feel. nothing changes with the knowledge that he feels the same way. I thought I'd feel...relief or something. I actually feel more...intense...more....urgent.

    more driven to make something of myself. of my life. almost like I have something to prove.

    I'm gobsmacked, any way you look at it.

    oh yes, while I'm catching my breath and loving that I'm making his catch in his throat, I need you all to turn to Sundance Channel this week and catch their shorts program - especially the 1998 spectacular: Personne Avant Toi - you'll thank me.

    seriously. it's the finest film I've seen in a long time.

    although the finest performance I've seen has got to be johnny D in that new pirate flick. but then again, what woman doesn't dream of being that pirate's booty? what woman other than myself of course. as my booty, as of this writing, is joyfully spoken for.

    and the finest direction/editing is, of course, Spellbound.

    when you can make the most easily bored woman in america sit on the edge of her seat to find out which rugrat wins a spelling bee...that's incredible filmmaking, right there.

    Posted by Heather at 02:34 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

    August 02, 2003

    Listing....listing...

    Okay. Here we go.

    I'm a list maker, as you may have noticed. I revel in making lists of things, rhythmically pounding points into my head until the true point is honed, sharpened, undeniable.

    I've now reached the point where my list of points has come to a head: in other words, I'm now trying to talk myself out of falling in love (for more than just a few moments at a time).

    yup. makes no sense, but there it is. I've got three lists going:

    1) the "oh my god, I'm not good enough, smart enough, fast enough, complex enough for you" list.

    2) the "every single thing he does reminds me of something one of my exes used to do - and I promised myself to learn from my mistakes" list.

    3) the "what do we have in common, please god let this list make me feel better about blowing off the other lists in favor of telling him I love him, and asking how he feels, once and for all" list.

    so far, thanks to my midwestern american upbringing (confidence is king, here in the flyover zone), the first list is pretty damned short, the second list is terribly long (that same upbringing, again), and I'm afraid to start the third list for fear of actually convincing myself that it's not worth it.

    I mean, we haven't known each other very long, and already I'm naming our four children (dakota, umbaldo, basil, and sanxi), furnishing our house with tansu chests and selling our cars in favor of city bikes.

    I'm also imagining his face slamming shut at the very idea that I'd want to date him exclusively, let alone fall in love with him...I can just hear that deep rich voice of his as he says "oh, come on now, we've only known each other a few weeks...I thought we were just having fun...I'm not ready for a relationship, we were just having a good time, weren't we?"

    duking it out between those two thoughts are still other possibilities, that he'd be even more insanely involved, emotionally, than I....that he'd have a wife and kids in belize that he's just DYING for me to meet...that I see him again and fall out of love, again. for good. . .

    I'm remembering that he has the same job as one ex, dresses very much like another, is even more gorgeous as still another, but thankfully doesn't chew with his mouth open like one guy, or answer his cell phone every single time it rings...he's amazingly non-judgemental, and he makes up his own vocabulary in three languages...I'm not having any of those twinges of "oh no, he's just like the guys before him, I should learn from my mistakes and run"... but I'm still strapping on my running shoes, just in case...

    my arguments to keep it to myself are convincing, actually. I think I can keep my cool for a little while longer. it's better to play it cool, right? to prolong the selfish joy of puppy love without knowing for sure if he feels the same way? to eke out one more month of feeling like a seventeen-year-old with a crush (oh no, this isn't even close to love! It's a crush! yes! a crush! that's it!) before I fold and someone shows their cards?

    I say this, and know this to be a good thing for all involved, but then again...staying up nights together, giggling about spelling bees and theater and writing and making up new nicknames for exes...and keeping myself up most other evenings, making lists and trying not to remember the whole mushy god-he's-gorgeous-with-the-moonlight-on-his-cheekbones....all this sleeplessness has weakened my resolve.

    and then, on top of all this list making, I remember how he successfully taught me (me! The clumsy one with no physical graces whatsoever!) to feel comfortable enough in my own body to successfully learn a new dance. how I trust him enough to try new things with him, and to teach as well as be taught. how he makes me believe in being a gentleman, even when you're a lady. how seeing him with another young woman, however jealousy-inducing, makes me think 'oh, she'd be good for him, they have this and that and the other thing in common...oh, how happy they'd be" rather than "I'll kill him. I'll kill her. the both of 'em. together"...

    oh man. he's got me wrapped around that little finger of his, doesn't he?

    shit.

    and I see him tomorrow afternoon. what to do? what to say? I think I'd better get some sleep tonight - and see which way the wind blows tomorrow....

    Posted by Heather at 03:31 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack