ChanelBaby

Doing the Rocky

I am leaving in half an hour to go catch a train to Philly.  Woo hoo Philadelphia!  Sadly, I am going for business, and only for one day, so I will not be able to eat here (mum's suggestion), or run up the steps and pump my fists in the air like Rocky (Bartender Dude's suggestion) (which, let's face it, I would never do because a) running, b) LAME, c) running.  I don't even know where the steps ARE).

But I wanted to post because I haven't in, like, forever, yo.

So here is a quick update:

1.  Job is going better.  I am no longer breathing into a paper bag every day thinking that at any second a phalanx of security staff are going to come to escort me from the building and throw me out on my ear because I have NO IDEA what I am doing.
2.  Wedding planning has stalled because the job is so demanding that I turn into a limp noodle on the weekends.
3.  Also, we had to pick up our NEW CAR this weekend, which is really an OLD CAR that my uncle fixed up for us that as soon as we had driven 10 miles toward home began to not work.  As in, the transmission isn't engaging.  As in FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKING hell.  We drove it home anyway and it seemed to right itself after another 3 miles or so, so we'll have to keep an eye on it.
4.  Which do ya'll think is better as a COLOUR SCHEME for a wedding -- deep red and Indian orange, or ice blue and silver/winter white?  I CANNOT DECIDE I WANT BOTH WAHH I AM A BRIDEZILLA.
5.  I am really leaning toward the red and orange.
6.  I cannot decide if I should ask people NOT to bring their darling children OR NOT. Who will mind them when we are all getting drunk at the reception? 
7.  Are you sick of me yet?

I'm kind of toying with the idea of making posting every day my Lenten discipline.

Please pick yourself off the floor where you are lying laughing hysterically.

I'm waiting.

You know, instead of making my Lenten discipline something like, oh, say, praying for peace and an end to poverty every day, *I* the great Chanelbaby am thinking of adopting the Lenten discipline that will bring me more attention.  But in my defense, I have to say I am NOT a terribly disciplined person and one of my goals for the year (which I commemmorated at Imbolc hooray for Pagans) is to "Give Discipline a Try" and if one is going to attempt to be disciplined at something, it ought to be at something that one actually enjoys doing but never seems to get around to doing, like knitting or blogging or planning a wedding.

Well.  Let's see how it goes.  The LAST Lenten discipline I took up was to give up CHEESE and that lasted all of three days.

Cosy

I have been sick all weekend.  It has been quite a challenge to slow all the way down to a crawl and lay on my ass on the sofa, watching Australian Open Tennis (that part has been fun) and force-feed myself liquids and that ghastly ghastly Airborne fizzy crap, and eat even though I am not hungry.  Bartender Dude is a wise old sage about this stuff and I am on bed rest at his command, following his orders.  I have been sleeping more than a NEWBORN.  Let me just outline this for you:

Friday night: in bed at 11 pm
[ELEVEN PM???? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? HOW LAME AM I?]

Saturday: up at 2 pm
[no, I am not making this up]

Saturday: in bed at 7 pm
[HOLY MOTHER OF OUR LORD HAS THE WORLD STOPPED SPINNING?  Also, I had to give up A DINNER PARTY.  Yes.  Bartender Dude got all hotted up -- mmm he looked GOOOOOD -- and trotted off to The Professor's for a dinner party with MY FRIENDS WITHOUT ME.  I didn't even drink anything all day.]

Saturday: back up at 11 pm
[watching more Australian Open tennis, two amazing matches, and reading wedding magazines, and having minor wedding planning meltdowns, to wit: "oh no I can't afford lobster creme brulee and a dessert buffet and tables draped in saris oh no how can I get out of bed in the morning and show my face to the civilised world woe is meeeeeeeeeeeeee."  Please slap me now, NOW when I can still be reasoned with.]

Saturday: [calling BD frantically "where are you I am bored it is 3 am come home and entertain me" and BD answering via text "go to bed you sick woman I will come home when I am done having a good time and drinking" damn I love that man] back in bed, 4 am

Sunday: up at noon
[THAT'S more like it]

So now it is Sunday evening, and I am sitting in my cosy sitting room, watching the snow fall outside our windows, and eating potato chips and drinking gin (FINALLY I am feeling better) watching yet MORE Australian Open tennis and thinking about calling The Cartographer, since I have cracked the case and figured out what COLOUR SCHEME I want for my wedding because I am such a clever clogs.  (Incidentally, I called The Professor today, to generally get the de-brief on the dinner party I missed plus bore him with wedding details I have been thinking about, and he said -- you have succumbed to The Machine.  FIGHT AGAINST THE MACHINE -- meaning, the machine of the wedding industry, that sucks you in and forces you to sign over your first born child to catering servitude.  But I said, it is too late.  Save Yourselves!!!!)

Life is good.

Well, unless you are Martina Hingis and getting the shit beat out of you by a small Chinese chic.

Ahhh, snow....

Discipline

Don't have it, never will.  This is NOT going to be one of those New Year's Resolution posts.  Sure, I'd like to have the ability to freeze time so I can take naps at work without getting caught and pack more into a day than even I have the ability to dream up (start a PhD! practice three religions at once! craft, sew, knit, bake! work out! clean, iron, mop, dust, shop! become An Expert on Something! organise the books! organise the music! organise the organisational systems!), but I am trying to be realistic.  (Another skill I don't possess.)  I am trying not to add stress to my already-currently-stressed-out state by upsetting myself over the fact that people who DO NOT have the ability to freeze time somehow manage to squeeze way more into a day than I ever will, because, hey, those people don't drink and WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT THAT LIFE?

Did I mention that I quit smoking a few days ago?  Like a week ago?  Anybody have any caffeine? Chocolate?  I DON'T EVEN LIKE CHOCOLATE!

(I wonder how long THIS will last.  Hopefully for good, because PINK is the best color for Chanelbabies and lungs.)

Anyway.  I am also going to take time out from my oh-my-god-imposter-syndrome-I-will-be-fired-as-soon-as-they- find-out-I-haven't-a-clue mental breakdown to give you all some GOOD NEWS.

I am engaged.

YES!  It is a miracle I found someone so laid back that all of the above Type A behavior makes him simply smile and hug me (or, just as frequently, tell me to CHILL THE FUCK OUT WOMAN), but I am not hesitating for a second to wonder how said miracle occurred because I am just going to ENJOY IT and be so happy.  I am so happy.

Here is a picture of the ring.  Which he designed himself.  Because he is a FUCKING ROCKSTAR!

SO!  There is a wedding to plan!  Thousands of details to consider!  Debt to go into! 

I think I need some more stimulants.

Warning: Great Big Downer Post

I am hesitant to post this entry, but I’ve written it, and hell only three people read this blog anyway. 

So ya’ll know I recently got this new job. What you don’t know is that this job has really triggered a lot of shit that I am having trouble dealing with and having trouble separating (old shit, or not the right job?). I know where it comes from (Navy kid, new kid on the block, parents who didn’t believe in themselves so I and all my siblings just adopted that same malaise, a persistent retreat into fantasy and away from reality as a life-long coping mechanism). What I want is to erase it all from my consciousness, heal it, make it go away, whatever. I am so tired of being scared. I am so tired of being angry and sad. I am so tired of feeling like I am not good at anything and that I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing (not only in life, but specifically in this job). I am tired of feeling like I am wrong ALL THE TIME. Well, almost all the time.

This is a good job with a good salary. This is a leap upwards for me on the corporate ladder. And I know I am still a beginner (and I’m TRYING to be okay with that because hello I am the first child we are supposed to know everything) but I’m in a culture where there isn’t a lot of guidance or direction. Its sink or swim time, baby, and I know that I’m swimming, but I hate the fear of sinking. I might sink myself under the weight of the fear of sinking!

I need a mentor. I need to learn to meditate. I need someone to tell me what exactly my job is and what is expected of me. I need to chill the fuck out and stop worrying but I don’t know how.

Hallelujah?

You will never believe this.  You cannot even imagine how astonishing this is.  Are you sitting down dear Readers?

This afternoon I was hanging around two of my colleagues cubes.  We were chatting and catting away, idly as you do of a Friday afternoon.  Several offices around us were being draped in Christmas lights by their owners (which reminds me, I want to buy a little tree for my office this weekend), and our talk turned naturally to the holidays - food, lights, travel, parties.

So I'm standing there, on a wet Friday afternoon, blah blahing to my colleagues, and up to this point the world is normal.  The next minute, all hell breaks loose in the reality department.

"I love the holidays," I say.  "Tonight I'm going to go home and listen to the Messiah."

"What's that?" asks my co-worker.

"Yeah, ha ha, what's that?" I mimic, laughing like a doofus.

Pause.

"I--don't know what you are talking about."

"Handel's Messiah?"

[shrug] "A piece of music apparently?"

"WAIT WAIT WAIT YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS."

"What? I haven't heard of it."

[head explodes]

"What about Shakespeare, have you heard of him?"

Okay I didn't really say that, BUT OH MY HOLY LORD.  After I finished teasing her and then hummed some bars from the Hallelujah chorus she got it.  "OHHHH!" she said.

But HONESTLY.  What DO they teach children in the schools these days?  I don't care if she grew up on the West Coast!!!  How could a person with a LAW DEGREE not have heard of Handel's Messiah???

Bangers and Mash

So, I'm back.

I was going to try and spin my Thanksgiving holiday into the reason I have not posted in so long, but ya'll know that That Is a Lie.  The truth of the matter is I was only gone for a week.  So here I am, world's laziest blogger, checking back in for another post.  Aren't you excited?

This Thanksgiving The Professor and I made our annual pilgrimage to Exeter.  We do this every year, traveling to the city of our collective education and the place where we met, to stuff our faces with pork pie and bangers and mash, wander around the town and surrounding countryside, look in all the shops, watch British telly, and generally laze about.  We are the weirdest holiday-makers, I know.

But we had a smashing time of course.  For me, this mainly involved LOTS of sleeping in until 1 pm.  On this trip, we accomplished approximately the following:

 
1. Church services in the awe-inducing Exeter Cathedral (oh those adorable choirboys!): 5
 
2. Country walks taken: 1
 
3. Pubs visited: 25
 
4. Crap bought at Boots, my favourite drugstore on the planet: $87-worth
 
5. Sparkly shoes purchased: 1 pair
 
6. Fancy dinners out: 2
 
7. Shops visited: 30
 
8. Naps taken: 81
 
9. Dear friends seen: 3 (The Commandant and his beautiful rockstar girlfriend were the highlight, OF COURSE
 
10. Glasses of champagne drunk: 38
 
11. Gin consumed: 300 gallons
 
12. Cigarettes smoked: 13,492
 
13. Percentage on a 1-100 scale of how much good the rest and relaxation did me: 1000%

This trip was particulary meaningful to me because The Professor and I both knew, without really telling each other, that this would be our last trip together alone.  Over the past few years of dating Bartender Dude, my life has been slowly shifting into a new era.  It doesn't mean I have a problem with going on trips by myself or with my friends just because I'm in a serious relationship, nor does it mean that Bartender Dude has taken any kind of issue with the tradition.  Its just that I've been moving, slowly and organically, into a new phase of my life, a phase that involves being in a partnership, and I don't really want to go on long trips without him that are dedicated, in large part, to remembering the past (a past now growing misty through the YEARS AND YEARS of time that have stealthily and ever rapidly inserted themselves into my life WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THAT?). 

I still want to travel back to that wonderful place, but now I want to take him with me, show him all my old haunts, and start building a repertoire of shared experiences, there and other wonderful places.  (OH GOD CORNY ALERT SHOOT ME NOW).  But seriously, I think this is a natural progression and I'm okay with it.  Plus, I don't have THAT much paid time off, the value of which, as you will doubtless recall, has been newly impressed upon me with the subtlety of a hammering blacksmith.

And I DID have a wonderful time.  I enjoyed every minute of it (even walking in GALE FORCE WIND AND RAIN IN THE WRONG SHOES) and lingered over every view and meal.  It was the perfect way to honour the extraordinary friendship I share with one of my closest friends, the one who knows where all the bodies are buried.

Here are a few HOLIDAY SNAPS (ha ha ha I love that phrase) for your viewing pleasure.  They are, in order, a studenty pub where the double gins are cheap and the bangers and mash divine, and the park behind our B&B.  Ah, country pursuits....

The Year 35

So last Sunday was my birthday.  Happy Birthday to me!!!!  I love my birthday.  For starters, it’s on Bonfire Night, Guy Fawkes Day, the holiday of simultaneous rebellion and re-institution of the Established Order.  PLUS, it is celebrated with huge bonfires, burning The Guy in effigy, and generally western fall treats like cider and mulled wine and displays of the Squash Family.

As I’m sure you are dying to know, Dear Readers, I had a LOVELY birthday.  It began with teaching Sunday School (did ya’ll know that I do that? Well, I do.  I shudder for the youth of Christ Church Georgetown, because my lessons are not exactly the Party Line, but at least I give it a go), and then of course the All Saints Day church service, in which I sang VERY LOUDLY WITH GUSTO the hymn “For All the Saints.”  From there we repaired to The Ritz Georgetown for brunch, with all the usual suspects in tow – The Rajah, The Professor, Bartender Dude, and LJ.  After that it was Evensong (yes I know that is a shitload of church for one day, even for me, but I enjoyed it) and drinks and snacks with LS and Bartender Dude at Circle Bistro, one of our usual watering holes.

Of course the one thing that makes this series of events A Story is that Bartender Dude and I got into a Huge Fight.  And the hi-larious thing is that we got into this Huge Fight over Pride and Prejudice.

Yes, you read that correctly.  We got into a fight over Pride and Prejudice, and it went something like this:

Chanelbaby: And THAT is the amazing thing about this novel –

Bartender Dude: [interrupting] You know, you and The Professor talk about Pride and Prejudice A LOT.  In fact, there at least two other people at the table besides me who are sick to death of hearing you pontificate in nauseating detail about that fucking book.  Could you please maybe think of something better to discuss?

Chanelbaby:  What can you possibly mean by that statement?  This is an important book.  It is Jane Austen’s MASTERWORK.  It has TONS of application to your daily life in the 21st century!

Bartender Dude: I just think maybe sometimes you and The Professor could give it a rest already.  Look around you.  Not everyone wants to talk about the same damn topics all the damn time.  For example, do we all really need to ruminate YET AGAIN about the foundation and the future of the British Monarchy?  I DON’T THINK SO.

Chanelbaby: [pulls a Full On Pout]

Bartender Dude: Whatever.  I’m going outside to smoke 50 million cigarettes and call my COOL friends.

To be honest, this is a bit of an exaggeration (NO SHIT REALLY? CHANELBABY IS EXAGGERATING?).  And to make a long story short, we made up with much smooshing and apologizing and protestations of undying love.  But you get the idea.

The best thing about having a Huge Fight with your boyfriend on your birthday is that a) you certainly never forget what you were doing or where you were, and b) there is a strong possibility that your boyfriend will feel SO GUILTY about what he did that he will surprise you with cards in your handbag that you discover at work and a surprise birthday dinner with candles and champagne and flowers when you come home and you THOUGHT he was going to be working late at the restaurant.

Which he did.  Tonight.

HAPPY SAMHAIN

Tonight is Samhain.  Since my dear Witch is not here to celebrate it with me, I shall no doubt spend time rifling through various internet sites looking for appropriate rituals to perform on my own and hopefully not burning the place down in the process. 

Thank God Bartender Dude never reads this site.

Happy Witches' New Year everyone!

The Write Stuff

I have to say I find it puzzling how power bloggers and community users find the time to participate in their very robust online lives.  It’s not just how often they blog or how good the entries they write  – it’s the fact that many of them write for more than one blog, participate in online forums, and even start their own online communities, really interesting communities that collectively are starting to show the potential of the internet to connect people in unique ways.

It really fascinates me because although I spend my entire working day online, and find great pleasure in reading all kinds of blogs or checking out all kinds of sites [WHICH I NEVER DO AT WORK NO NOT EVER REALLY PINKY SWEAR], I never feel like writing a post or logging into some of the communities that interest me to join a discussion.  And when I get home the last thing I want to do is get back on the computer. I think really good blogging is a discipline, like everything else worth doing, and to do it well takes time and prioritization.

It takes so much energy just to go to work, go to the gym, clean the house, cook the dinner, pack the lunch, sort the mail, pay the bills, file the mounds of paperwork that somehow collect on the desk, do the laundry, shop for groceries, fill the ice trays, and still have anything left over for watching television, meeting up with friends, drinking, reading novels, knitting tea cosies, sorting photos, cleaning out the iTunes, or anything even remotely resembling the intellectual output of blogging.

I love good writing, and I think I am a pretty good writer as the craft goes.  But I just don’t think I am a writer, because I don’t need to do it.  I mean, really there it is.  I don’t need to do it, I don’t rush to do it, my life doesn’t feel empty without it.  I don’t even really enjoy writing while I’m doing it as much as I enjoy the finished product. 

My family always thought I’d be a writer.  I have to admit, I never fully bought this idea.  I love to read, and as a result, I love good writing.  I’m just not sure that being a writer is something I can accurately claim.

So my hat goes off to all those amazing people who post every day, who write stories that make me laugh, that amaze me, that make me cheer for them.  Perhaps at some point I’ll join their ranks.  I started this blog to attempt to jog my own creativity, to join other writers and get their feedback.

But honestly, most nights I’d rather fall asleep watching PBS.

Chapter Seven: In Which I Get a Fabulous New Job and Learn to Knit

So I got the job.

YES! YES YES YES YES YESSSSSSSSS!  Hooray for me!  Words cannot begin to describe my relief and delight.  Not only did I get a permanent job with bene-FITZ, but I got a permanent job with benefits that I LIKE.  I am so happy!

Oh thank God, the Universe, the Goddess and God, and everything.  Thank all the deities.  Because man, were they looking out for me.  The job is good.  The salary is CRAZY.  The position is a bit of a stretch, but I feel like I'm eating at the big kid's table and it feels GOOD.

Also, terrifying, but I won't alloy this moment with COMPLAINTS.  In fact, I won't even MENTION that it is a come-in-at-9am-wearing-posh-suits-and-heels kind of gig because I don't even care.  I'm taking this opportunity and running with it.  (Figuratively, of course, because, running in heels = not so much.)

I am going to be really challenged in this job, which is a good thing.  At least I'll be learning new things—all about the health care industry, for one.  But luckily there is a huge web component so I'll get to keep my Cool Kids Badge and stay in the online space, which is fun.

I so seriously hope I don't fuck this up.  But if I do, hey that's life and I've got Bartender Dude.  Bartender Dude and KNITTING.

Yes, to celebrate this newfound corporate me, I jumped on the gay men's bandwagon and LEARNED TO KNIT.  The Good Witch taught me how and presented me with two huge pink plastic knitting needles for me to practice with, kind of like Stitch Bitch Training Wheels.  I am attempting to make a Tea Cosy, which is really just a 30-stitch wide swath that roughly resembles a scarf and that I'll have to tie around a teapot to make work, but whatever I AM MAKING SOMETHING.  With my own two hands!  Where once was yarn will now be a tea cosy!  Sort of.

It is very calming to sit in my snug little sitting room with a Greyhound and some fags and click clack with the big fat training needles.  I am hoping that I'll get good enough at it that I don't have to hunch over and watch every stitch, but for now that is a necessary evil otherwise I drop stitches and double-yarn it (not even sure what that is) and my whatever-it-is I'm making starts to look very like a cat got to it.

I'll post pictures when it is finished.  In the meantime, I leave you with a picture of me and the woman who taught me this newfound skill.  Also My Fat Belly.  Ya'll be good.