PickledCherub

Getting a mini-propmotion at work is not nearly worth the stress/compensation ratio. It's good experience, that's what I keep telling myself.

Anyway, moving. I keep finding old notebooks filled with poetry and photographs from highschool and all the detritus of the past, littering itself on the shores of the present. The question: do I toss this stuff so that it doesn't come back to haunt me ten years down the road, or do I keep it and assume the role of auto-archivalist.

I think that I'll just post the old poems on the blog. Humility is a good thing.

The lists I have made for Thanksgiving. A guest list, a menu list, a shopping list (four grocery stores, thank you), and tomorrow, between work and work, is prep day.

Oh, and we're moving out.

I can't keep my eyes open.

Life has been basically exciting and boring at the same time lately. Rather, it's been more exciting than I'd like half of the time, and more boring than I'd like the other half. Such as: Went out with Sabrina on Saturday night and got so drunk that I didn't make it to the bathroom in time, if you know what I mean. Such as: Various exciting work meetings where nothing could get done. Such as: My manager has jury duty for three weeks and I'm going to pick up the slack. Such as: Ghostbusters at Pix. Such as: Sitting at coffee shops and reading. Such as: Chris writing JavaScript all the time. Such as: Making another batch of zuchinni soup.

I'm really trying to get more boring. I'm trying to do manager type things, and go to bed early, and snuggle. But it's not in the cards for me yet. I want to be more responsible, keep the kitchen clean, do the laundry, file my receipts, drink plenty of water, go to the gym.

What is wrong with me?

Little things, little mentions still upset me. What can you do? Cry? Get all moody and shit?

I watched Chris Rock's HBO special "Never Scared" tonight.

Chris is computer programming at Greg's house. I put away all the laundry in my closet, and the cats a peeved about it, because they liked hanging out on piles of clean clothes. So did I, for that matter. Now it's just carpet on the floor. Not as cozy.

I think I need to get out of town for a while. San Fransisco? Colorado? Seattle? Maybe a jaunt to North Portland will be enough vis a vis change of pace for Amy.

I think that I do pretty accurate kitty impressions. Chris is at work right now, his first day on the job. I spent a good part of the afternoon at Grendel's Coffee shop on Burnside with Marian and Katy. I detangled all of this dude's fake jewelry and got nothing for it. I'm sipping on some cold apple cider. I have another Disjecta meeting tonight. So many meetings. I should bring a notebook or something. Last night's meeting was fun, again, what with all of the arguing everyone seems to do. I drank two beers so that I could get through it.

If I don't do something soon I'll explode. I should sign up for National Solo Album Month (on Douglas' site) or something.

Whatever. I'm going to watch some more Daily Show Clips on the Internet.

I just finished a delightful cauliflower, veggie sausage, and garam masala scramble. Soon I'm going to the gym to work out.

I worked a Host shift last night and made eighteen dollars in five hours. Psychologically, hosting is a lot easier on me. The actual work involved is about the same as serving, but the emotional toll is less.

Alejandro is teaching me a lot of Spanish. It's really cute how everytime I walk into the back he says "Hi, Amy! Hi!"

I had trouble fallling asleep again last night, even though I had a delicious Rasputin Russian Stout--very coffee, chocolate, malty tasting. Nine percent alcohol. I kept waiting for Chris to get home. I woke up several time this morning, but remained in bed until the last possible moment.

Steve's party was a lot of fun. By three in the morning I was doing my patented "Run in Place" dance moves. All those High School dances where we practiced our aerobics moves have payed off, let me tell you.

Yes, this election was a big bummer for all of us New England Liberals (although, truth be told, I'm more of a transplanted North Atlantic Liberal), but the biggest bummer for me personally is this: Americans don't know our own Constitution. News stories I've read recently about the "re"-election of Bush almost always include something about how happy people are because they believe that the President will put God back into the Constitution.

Now, I am the first to admit that I do not know the Constitution by heart. So the first thing I did was find an online version of it, and search for the texts "God," "Jesus," and "Faith." Guess what? There is no God in the Constitution. However, the Declaration of Independence has the phrases "Nature's God," "Creator," and "divine Providence." Looks like our Founding Fathers stepped lightly around even mentioning God in the Declaration of Independence. And then there's the good old First Ammendment: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Let's face it, people. The United States of America is a secular nation. Structurally, at least, if not in practice.

This whole mess makes me want to study Constitutional Law.

Otherwise, life is OK. The I.U.D. has been a bit painful at times. I find that I can manage the pain with breathing and relaxation. Things have been going well with Chris. He has been living here for less than three months, but it works. Steve's girlfriend is going to have a baby in six months or so, which means he'll be staying in Portland. And settling down, too. I missed the 2GQ party last night. I forgot about it. Seems strange that I'd forget something like that. I did go to Embers with Bryan and Chris and Marian, and we danced and danced. Tonight is a party at Steve's house, and I'm going to go to that eventually. I need to eat something first.

Oh, dear friends, we'll get through these times together.

Not again! Mother of god why?

Unless . . . they counted Ohio wrong, not impossible. What a shit night.