Happy New Year

Because I'm prone to sentimentality and nostalgia, New Years Eve is always a big deal to me. I think it's important to reflect. I think for me at least, I like to look back and know that my life is evolving. That I'm at least a little bit different, and hopefully better, than I was a year ago.

We experience things ever single day throughout the year. Some good, some bad, but at the very least I want to learn from these experiences. Has that learning helped me to grow, to improve? Am I closer today to the person I want to be than I was a year ago?

The answer isn't always yes. In fact for the past few years I've experienced difficulties, frustrations and setbacks that have made me rather unhappy come Dec. 31st. But there was always hope that the next year would be a chance to turn it all back around and get things back on track.

2009 was such a year for me. It was the first time in about 5 years that I could say it was unequivocally a better year than the one prior. About 7 years ago I decided that I wanted to be a nurse; three years ago made some changes to my job to allow me to take the necessary classes; two years ago the (pre-req) schooling began and I worked my ass off to get the grades I wanted; last year I applied to schools and got accepted to one of the top programs in the country.

It all finally came together for me in 2009. Yep, it was a truly great 12 months (give or take) and I'm going to celebrate appropriately with some friends tonight.

Cheers and Happy New Year, all. And to a great 2010!

Aventures in Celibacy

Tonight I have the chance to break the celibacy vow I took back in August - now that the semester is over - and while I should probably be excited about it, I'm not sure that I'm, well. up for the task.

A friend of mine here in Chicago is having a party, and we've had this mutual attraction and flirtation with each other for as long a we’ve known each other, but we’ve never been able to make it work. Over the semester we’ve flirted a few times, and back in November he sent me a text message saying that I’m invited to “come down his chimney anytime” while I’m in Chicago over Christmas break.

I’ve been looking forward to seeing him for a few weeks, but now I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. Yes, on the one hand I really want that kind of release, but on the other I’m not sure I want to complicate the relationship we have with sex. Plus, I think I might actually be getting comfortable with the whole celibate lifestyle; I’m starting to think that maybe I’d like to wait just a little bit longer until the right situation presents itself (i.e. my T-crush – not that there’s any sign that he even knows I’m alive).

Yeah, My Life is Awesome

I can add this to my list of Really Awesome Experiences – running into someone you’ve slept with, only to have the person not remember who you are. Seriously, like I need this in my life.

So today I get on the Brown Line at Diversey. There’s hardly anyone in the car. I sit down and look around and immediately see this guy I know named C, who is halfway down the car, looking at me. Fuuuck, I’m thinking -- he’s pretty much the last person in Chicago I want to run into and here’s why.

I met C. about two years ago in a coffee shop. He was handsome, intelligent and interesting. We exchanged numbers and went out on a few dates over the course of about 2 weeks. We even slept together once. I broke it off early because he was just a little weird. For starters, after our 3^rd date we were making out on his bed when his dog jumped onto the bed and C didn’t shoo him off. Seriously – he let the dog lay there on the bed while we’re going at it. Awkard.

Another weird thing was that C. would break into this bizarre, cutesy, baby-talk thing while we were making out. Like full-on baby cutesy-wootsey talk. There he is, kissing my torso, biting my nipples and all of a sudden he’d let out this “oooh you have such a cute widdle belly button” – like he’s talking to an infant. “Umm, why are you talking like that?” I asked him and he just shrugged it off.

On our fourth and final date – the night we slept together – he told me he could only come if I licked him armpit. So there we are, going at it, and I’m now required to start rolling my tongue all in and around his pits. Christ, the things I do just to get laid, I remember thinking.

I should have called it off after the first warning sign – the dog on the bed – or probably should have gone running in the other direction during the baby-talk episode. But the truth is he was the first guy I dated after my big break up with Richard and I guess I just really wanted to get laid. After date #4 and the armpit incident, I told him I just didn’t think it was going to work out. I got a few texts from him in the weeks following but soon after I never heard from him again and, mercifully, I never ran into him.

Until today. So he’s looking at me across the car and I’m looking at him and I’m thinking this is ridiculous to try and ignore him and not say hello – we slept with each other, for fucks sake – so I get up form my seat and move to the one next to him.

He’s still staring at me, so I start:

Me: “Uh, Hi C.”
C.: “Hi?”
Me: “It’s (me).”
C: : “Uhh….” [Note: He’s looking at me like he seriously doesn’t know who I am.]
Me: “Remember me? Umm, we dated for a few weeks about 2 years ago.”
C.: “Oh. Yeah, right. I was trying to figure out why you looked familiar…”
Me (thinking: Why I looked familiar? Are you fucking kidding me?): “Yeah. So I just wanted to say hi…”
C. (still looking like maybe he doesn’t fully remember who I am): “Right. How are you? You look different. Is your hair different? Shorter?” [Note: My hair is no different now than it was when we dated two years ago. I pretty much look exactly the same as I did back in 2008.]
Me: “Uhh, no, not really. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”
C.: “Right. Wait, you’re studying to be a nurse, right?”
Me: “Yep, that’s right. Anyway, this is my stop so see you. Take care.”

Ugh. So to summarize: I met this guy two years ago. We dated for 2 weeks. We fucked. I run into him today and he doesn’t remember who I am. My life is awesome.

The Lull of the Break Has Set In

I’ve been home - whoops, I mean "back" in Chicago for a week. The time has both crawled and flown by. All in all, a very relaxing trip so far. Perhaps too relaxing. I feel tired all the time – my body’s natural response to weeks upon weeks of 6 hour a night sleep session, or so I’m telling myself – and the night just feels old by 9 pm.

I’m fine with this, really, although I feel as though perhaps I should make myself busier.

Chicago is good – I’m reminded by the hour how much I miss it – but man, it is fucking cold. It is lame to complain about the weather, but: it is cold all the time; either raining or snowing; and the wind is intolerable. Today is the first day the sun has been out.

Because of this intolerance to the cold, I’m a little worried about Friday’s Polar Bear Plunge. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Well, I guess that’s about it for now. I just feel like I should be writing more, especially if I plan to boost my blogging in 2010.

Georgetown Has Changed You. And Not In a Good Way.

Last night I met up with some old friends I haven't seen or barely talked to since August when I left for DC, and we had many beers and good conversations to catch up on all that's happened over the last 4 months. Or rather, we mostly talked about what my friends A. (currently navigating through a new relationship), J. (currently juggling multiple fuck buddies), and D. (still not getting laid) have been doing, since my life has been about studying and celibacy and other boring stuff since August.

Great conversation all around. A. mentioned that his girlfriend of 6 months recently told him that she loved him and he did not respond in kind, which got us talking about love in general and what it means, etc.

J. said that love, or rather a person's idea of what it is, changes as a person grows older. As in, a 21 y.o.'s idea of it is not likely the same as that of someone who is 30. Which lead to the following interaction:

Me: "I agree. It is kind of like the idea of... Oh, nevermind."
A.: "What?"
Me: "Well, I was going to make a comparison from Anthropology, but nevermind..."
J.: "No, please - continue."
Me: "Well, I was going to say it is a lot like man's idea of God, and how that has evolved as civilization has progressed. Early man worshipped nature as God. You know, first it was the wind then it was the sun. But then as man progressed, his idea of God became more sophisticated to the point where God is now this unknowable Diety..."
J.: "..."
A.: "..."
D.: "..."
J.: "Georgetown's changed you, man. And not in a good way."

Sunday Funday - No Breakfast, No Lunch, And $2 Drinks - What Could Go Wrong? (Or: I Might Possibly Be an Alcoholic)

It's Monday morning and I'm sitting here at National waiting for my flight back to Chicago. The process of arriving here, checking in and getting through security has been surprisingly easy considering the mess of the last two days, but I feel like I'm suffering a quiet death.

I'm hungover from yesterday, a day that started early with me running errands in the snow and packing for home (subtext: no breakfast or lunch) and then heading to JRs to meet up with friends to celebrate the end of the semester over $2 Skyy drinks. It is a day that we'd been planning and looking forward to for weeks.

I arrived at two, sat at the bar, ordered a drink and waited for my classmates to arrive. For a a variety of reasons, most of them couldn't make it. Screw it, keep the drinks coming.

And they did. I was making friends with the bartender (heavier-handed pours as the hours went by) and random people throughout the afternoon. I got digits from guys I have no memory of meeting. I referred to Hillary Clinton as "saucy."

By the time Stephanie, Anand and Danny arrived around 5-ish, it was time to head over to my swim team's holiday party. I wanted to go so I could say goodbye to friends and see my crush one last time. But mostly to see my crush. He wasn't there, so we stayed for what seemed like 10 minutes before I might have said, "This place is dead. We're leaving."

The rest of the night - what was left of it - is really a blur. Danny, his roommate Stephan and I headed back to Danny's for a bit, but I remember feeling like I needed to go home, so I did. I bought some Chinese, then walked all the way back through Adams Morgan to my place. The Chinese was put on the kitchen table and remained there until the next day. I passed out in my bed, clothes off, lights on.

I woke with a start at 5 am. I decided to go for a walk all the way over to Georgetown because I realized that I'd still left my gym stuff in my locker at St. Mary's and I needed it for Chicago. And my bike was still there from Thursday too. It was a nice, long walk in the cold early morning. The sidewalks were still covered in snow; I walked most of the way on the empty streets. I looked up into the sky at the moon and the flights leaving National, realizing with glee that in just a few hours I'd be on one of those flights heading back to Chicago.

Although the last 24 hours weren't exactly the semester-ending celebration that I'd planned, I felt at peace. It had been a tough 4 months, but a good one. I'm content and ready for home.

Anti-Climactic

Today was my last day of 1S finals. I'd been dreaming of this day for weeks. I tried to imagine the ecstatic feeling I'd have the moment my last final was done - the high, the freedom, the celebration.

Then the snowstorm happened. And my Health Promo final turned into an online shitshow exam done from the discomfort of my living room. And my final final exam - Philosophy - turned into no exam at all. My professor sent an email in the morning giving me a choice - 1) come to campus and take the final, or; 2) not take the final and take the grade I got on the midterm (a B) as my grade for the final exam.

Option 2 - Ummm, Yes please.

So the semester ended with a whimper, not a bang. But to celebrate I decided to join Kelley and Wiz at The Big Hunt, only to get to the metro and figure out that there's really no way to get to DuPont Circle.

But really, these are details. The semester is over and I'm giddy. And tomorrow I'll celebrate properly - $2 Absolut drinks at JRs with some friends before heading over to the Duplex for the team Xmas party, where hopefully I won't make an ass of myself (again) in front of T.

FML

State of emergency?? Are you kidding me?
Apparently there's a "historic" snowstorm heading this way, about to dump 12-18 inches overnight.
Please please God, no.
Because this is really the last thing I need; the last straw. If I cannot finish my final exams tomorrow; if either of them gets postponed or messes with my plans to enjoy my last few days in DC; or if I can't fly out of National come Monday (although that's very unlikely), I will go Apeshit.

Post Traumatic Patho Stress Syndrome (or: Life is Good)

I woke up this morning with absolutely no idea what day it was.

It is a symptom of surviving the final exam in the most difficult class I've ever taken, Patophysiology. I've written about this class before, and I'm making a promise never to talk about it again after this (unless, of course, I get a C- and have to take it over again in the Spring).

Since last Thursday, I've been spending virtually every waking hour at the library studying for it. I counted 65 hours of Patho studying at the Lau since last Thursday morning. No joke bitches. And the sad thing is that it pretty much takes 65 hours worth of studying just to pass the exam, let alone get an A. The class and the tests are hella difficult. I know a woman who cried - cried! - during the final exam last year.

I woke up yesterday at 5 am (my usual waking hour), rode my bike to school, and sat in the Med-Dent library for one last review before the 9 am final. I was exhausted and as I tried to review some of the practice tests, I found myself not understanding any of the words or concepts on the paper. Not. A. Single. Thing. How is it that I spent 65 hours studying and here, two hours before the final, I had still not learned anything? I felt the panic surge inside. I closed my notes, closed my eyes, took a deep breath with my face in my hands. I needed a little caffeine just to get the neurons firing, so I walked over to Starbucks.

I soon felt a bit better and headed over to class. The exam was 100 questions, two hours. I found myself slipping into autopilot mode, going through each question, marking down the answer I thought was right. So much guessing, but there isn't really time to analyze all the possible choices. I was numb.

When it was over, a bunch of us headed over to The Tombs for a celebratory drink. Spirits were generally high, but I think we all were zombified. None of us seemed to feel good about the class or individual performances; we were all just glad to have it over with.

Like any time you share a difficult experience with a group of people, there's a closeness that develops. Over the last week, I've been part of a small group that has studied together for this class at the Lau and grew closer to them in that week than in the last 16. The class was an exercise in frustration and disappointment - it just feels shitty to study so much just to struggle to get a C -- but the resulting bonds formed are strong and worth it.

After The Tombs, a smaller group of us headed on to J. Paul's, the site of my first Cohort happy hour and a fitting bookend to the semester. We shared a bottle of champagne, but I found my energy dwindling so eventually Kelley and I left to start walking home. On the way, we discussed our relationships (or lack thereof), discussing developments in our lives. She was expressing her condolences to me over some recent disappointments I've had, to which I replied that in the grand scheme of things it was alright. If these are the biggest problems in my life, then things must be pretty good. Which is true - once you get past the stress of school and look out beyond the weeds to see what my life is like - things are going pretty frickin' well for me these days. Kelley agreed and said that she's actually the happiest she's been in years, and that's a good thing.

We soon said our goodbyes and I continued walking down M St. towards Foggy Bottom to catch the Metro back home. It was dusk and it was cold and clear and you could see the monuments and the lights in the pinkish-blue sky.

The walk got me thinking that, like Kelley, I too feel like I'm happier than I've been in a long time. After a few years where I felt my life going backwards, 2009 was an incredible and exciting year for me. I've got good friends back in Chicago and elsewhere who have been very supportive to me; the sheer amount of support I feel from family and those closest to me is palpable. And I've made some incredible mates at school and I'm lucky to be at a place in my life where I can make these drastic changes and take my life in a new, exciting direction.

On Saturday I take my last 2 exams for the semester, then on Monday I'm back to Chicago for two weeks to see friends and family I've missed these four months. I'm ready. Holla.

Chicken Madness Haiku

Last week my friend and classmate Emily introduced me to Wisemiller's Deli, a Georgetown institution and the home of the Chicken Madness (see photo above). This shit is the bomb. I've since been back 3 times for the Chicken Madness over the last few days, smelling up the Lau-Lau with the juicy goodness of the Chicken Madness. I can't seem to get enough of the Chicken Madness.

My life will never be the same, and I've written a haiku about it.

Party in my mouth.
How your sweet juices save me.
Christ, Finals Week sucks.

This Has Been My Week In a Nutshell

This week I had several exams in one of my nursing classes - 4 in one class alone - and all of them have been stressful. Easily the most difficult week of the semester thus far.

Here's the scene: A group of us are down in the lab, waiting for our instructor to arrive so that we can begin our exam. Our instructor arrives and the following conversation ensues...

Instructor: "Good morning. Does anyone have any questions I can answer before we begin?"
Student: "Yes, I do. I'm confused about the correct order to do (a certain procedure) because there's a discrepancy in the notes. Can you clarify?"
Instructor: "No, I can't answer that. You should know it."
Student: "But you just asked us if we had any questions you could answer before the exam starts."
Instructor: "Sorry. I can't answer that."
Student: "..."

Sigh. It will be a miracle if I make it out of here alive. I'm heading out to Marvin's tonight for a drink.

This Is How Pathetic My Life Has Become...

I was shopping at the Giant the other day when I spotted frickin' Pepsi ONE in the cola isle and practically shat my pants.

I thought the Pepsi gods had discontinued my favorite aspartame-flavored cola a few years ago. Suddenly it was gone, replaced by that awful Pepsi Max. That shit is the worst, man. But alas, it seems somebody's been reading my e-mails because it the P.O. is back in da house!

Swear to God, folks, this discovery pretty much made my week. I've now resorted to drinking about 2 liters of the P.O. a day, just to make up for the lost time.

Sorry Cherry Coke Zero - you've been a worthy substitute. But daddy craves the real thing.

(Yeah, this is an actual entry about how happy I am that a soft drink is back on the shelves. And yes, I used the term "da house." My life is pretty much very sucky right now.)

43 Things I'm Thankful For

I've got this tradition which I started a few years ago at Thanksgiving where I take stock in the past year and list the things I'm thankful for, and this year in particular I feel like I've got a lot.

In no particular order, a list of some of the things I'm thankful for:

1. Summer Shandys
2. Polar Plunges on New Years.
3. The shit show that is The Russia House.
4. Portland in April. And August.
5. Babies. In particular, the ones had by friends this year (there have been a lot).
6. What's Up with That? on SNL.
7. Ohio St. Beach in the Summertime.
8. The way the clock tower at Healy Hall lights up at night.
9. My study partners - Aaron and Brooke - from Stats class this Spring. The only good things to come from that experience.
10. The thinning of the trees along Q St.
11. Movieoke.
12. Wendel G, my bike.
13. Edmund, my car.
14. Boston in April.
15. Toronto in February.
16. The way the Chicago River smells like salt and chocolate in the Fall.
17. The way that "Endothelin, a potent vasoconstrictor" rolls off the tongue.
18. 4/13/09 at 2:49 pm
19. Breakfasts at Nookies.
20. Patho transcriptions.
21. Kate & Dave's wedding in Boston in April, and seeing good friends there.
22. About 40 hours on a bike to/from school this semester and only 2 flat tires and one wipe-out.
23. Smith's Night at Danny's.
24. Taco Easter.
25. The bathroom at the Pie Hole in Chicago (this sounds dirty, but it isn't. Someday I will explain.)
26. My Hoya Saxa, Bitches t-shirt.
27. Cafe St. Ex.
28. DCAC.
29. The 7-11 donut, Corn Nuts and Big Gulp diet from January-May.
30. The turkey chili at Epicurian.
31. The 24-hour Starbucks at North & Wells.
32. My mom, dad and brother.
33. Late winter/early spring walks up Clark St. in Lakeview.
34. My friends in SanFran, Portland, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, Indy, New York, and London. I love and miss you all.
35. Happy hour at J. Paul's.
36. Weanamins!
37. My cohort - I love these people - and in particular a handful of those that have already become lifelong friends.
38. Chicago. Especially this past summer.
39. Georgetown.
40. The buffalo statues on Dumbarton Bridge.
41. The salty sweet chocolate chip cookies from Sticky Fingers.
42. Crushes (that make you feel like you're 15).
43. Rowing class at the Lincoln Park lagoon.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and here's to a sweet Holiday Season.

Hunting the Rhino

I've been Hunting the Rhino all this week, and will likely be hunting it until school ends in a month.

"Hunting the Rhino" is a term we (me and my friend Kelley) created which means staying focused on a single task and not thinking about anything else until that task is complete. It is the opposite of multi-tasking.

It's basic human biology: back in the day, women had lots of jobs - cook the food, keep the cave clean, raise the cave babies; men had only one job - hunt the rhino (or lion, or bear, etc.; we use rhino because it sounds best).

These days I am incapable of multi-tasking. I can't work on my Core Concepts paper or start studying for Patho at the same time as study for today's Health Promo exam. I have to focus on one thing and one thing only - study for the Health Promo exam. I'm Hunting the Rhino*.

Just trying to get through work this week before you make plans for the weekend? You're Hunting the Rhino. One of those people who eats each thing on the plate before starting onto the next? You're a Rhino Hunter.

Hunting the Rhino also sounds like it could be something dirty. Which is another reason I like it. Just like the Cobra Secret Handshake and the Weanamin, I am determined to get this phrase into the day-to-day existence of my cohort. And hopefully beyond. Start passing it along.

* Please note, I am not endorsing the hunting or killing of animals. I am totally against it. It is just an expression.

This morning my heart feels swollen and sore. It has been another long and sleepless night.

I started Giant Butters as a way to document my life in nursing school, which is a different approach from my other blog, which was generally less personal and more funny. I don't want it to be a platform to complain - that's boring and nobody (all 5 people that read this) wants to read about that - but at the same time I'm trying to be true to myself so that I'm presenting a real picture of what's going on in my life.

Yesterday my dog died. And I'm feeling incredibly sad about it. A lot of people don't know that I had a dog, and the truth is I haven't been with her for about 4 years. I kind-of "lost her in the divorce" when I broke up with my ex and moved back to Chicago. Although I loved her and we had a great connection, it was the best decision, despite the fact that it caused me a lot of pain. I still remember the last time I saw her, when I said goodbye to her and cried when the car drove away, her in the backseat looking at me.

I keep a photo of her near my bed and think about her everyday. Back then I never thought I'd never see her again, because I thought at some point when my life was more stable that I'd get her back. Even when she got sick a few months ago, I thought that maybe with a surgery and some medications we could keep the cancer at bay at least long enough for me to somehow get back into her life, but that didn't happen.

And I hate that that never happened and I have a lot of guilt over it. I hate the fact that I wasn't in her life these last few years, and that I wasn't there in the end. But she's had a good life since we said goodbye, living with a great caring dad and another dog to keep her company up until the moment she died.

For the last 15 hours it has been hard to think of anything else. I tried studying last night, but couldn't focus. I took a shower (and sobbed) and didn't want to be in my apartment so went for a walk. I felt somewhat hungry so I went to Target (of all places), thinking I could get something to buy for dinner. I thought the bright lights and people would at least provide a distraction for awhile (I broke down a but in there, too). I walked through the aisles in a daze, staring at the food and Christmas decorations before deciding I needed to go somewhere else and clear my head.

It was a beautiful and unusually warm night so I walked all the way down to DuPont Circle. I sat down on a bench and started crying again. I wanted to call people but also knew I couldn't have a good conversation with anyone in the state I was in, so I put the phone away.

I came home around 10, feeling exhausted. I did manage to study a bit, but in the end watched a movie just to stay distracted. I fell asleep around midnight, but woke back up around 2:30 then again around 4:30, so I just got up around 5 and came to school, which is where I am now, sitting in the cafeteria drinking coffee.

It's hard to write about how much I loved and miss my dog without sounding trite, so I won't try. I know she was happy, and didn't suffer she when passed and I guess there's comfort in that.

Things Are Out of Whack (Or: Tears on the Metro Pt. II)

Life is out of whack right now. No joke. School's fer real now. I feel like I'm about a week behind in my coursework and studies. It might have something to do with the 8 hours I've spent in the last three days transcribing a Patho lecture (it was my turn). Not to put too fine a point on it, but those 8 hours could have been used for so many other more important things.

I'm not sleeping well, and my sleep pattern is all wonkee. Last week I had a dream everyone in my cohort was pissed at me. Last night I had that prototypical dream where I was nearly naked in my Research class. Why? Because I was hot and needed to cool off, as I told my professor. I'm falling asleep at 7 pm (Monday night I fell asleep while eating dinner for fuck sake), only to wake up around 9pm and do schoolwork until about midnight, just to wake back up at 4 am to start it all over again.

This morning I took the Metro to school because it was raining and I - wait for it - can't find my rain pants. They're nowhere to be found. How, I ask you, can I lose pants??

Anyway, I'm standing on the platform at Gallery Place waiting for the Red Line and I started feeling all anxious and sad, and started thinking about all the things I'm not getting done. And not just school work - stuff beyond that -- things like: I have friends who have recently had babies and I'm not even in contact with them and all these friends and people I have in my life and it is all just slipping by. I'm missing the birthdays and anniversaries of my friends. I haven't talked to my brother in weeks.

So what starts happening? Yep, I start crying just a little bit. It sucks. But hey, it isn't like this is the first time I've cried in public. Or heck, even the first time at the Metro.

As I type this I am cracking open a can of something I never ever thought I'd drink again (at least not without vodka) to stay awake - a fucking Red Bull. Christ. Just get me to Thanksgiving, where I have almost 6 days off to catch up on schoolwork. And sleep. And wine drinking.

You're Already in the Pool, Princess

Last week while surfing local DC blogs I came across Nutgraf, and this entry. And it pretty much made my day, and I wanted to share it.

The author recalls a story of a time she was lounging by a pool, and witnessed a conversation where a child went up to the mother and whined, "Mooom, Peter splashed meee!"

To which the mom replied, "You're already in the pool, princess."

And like Nutgraf, I also think it is a great response to life. We're all already in the pool, so let's just get on with it...

Extra Halloween Points for Not Being Original

So I decided (weeks and weeks ago, like back in August) to be Max (of "Where the Wild Things Are fame) for Halloween this year.

And based on a random sampling of revelers in the Foggy Bottom/Georgetown/Glover Park area, just like roughly 10% of the male population on Halloween night.

So sue me.

Despite the fact that the costume was popular and dinged by Gawker last week as being too cliche (too late, I already bought the outfit) and that I thought my outfit was pretty good/authentic (I mean: I had the white one-sy pajamas, a tail, crown, hoodie with ears on it; some people wore pants, blue or gray pajamas, Burger King crowns. C'mon, people...), I still had a shitload of people ask me, "So, like, who are you supposed to be?"

And when I answered, there was a staggeringly high percentage of people who still didn't know what the hell I was referring to. Said one of the more militant Maxes I ran into that night, "What, do you people not know how to read? Get out of my faces, you fucking illiterates!" (Note: while I love Max and WTWTA, I'm not quite as passionate.)

I was asked if I was a Cat. Or a Bunny. Or the Little Prince. Or one of my favorites, "Burger King Boy" (does such a thing exist? What would that be, exactly?)

As I was walking late at night from my first party in Foggy Bottom, to DuPont Circle, I got perhaps the best proposition I've received in a long time: "Whoo-wee boy, you can be my king anytime!"

I Went to the High Heel Drag Race and All I Got Was the Herp!...

Run Bitches, Run!

... and a flesh-colored dildo. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let's start from the beginning: Back in August, within the first few minutes of meeting my friend and classmate Dana (back at the first cohort at J. Paul's) she asked if I would go to the High Heel Race with her. I'd never been (I missed it both times during DC 1.0), so I said sure, let's get a group together, it'll be fun. And suddenly the time has flown by and here we are, walking down P St in the rain on our way to 17th St. and the Drag Race.

Like everyone in my cohort, I'm feeling the heavy weight of schoolwork bearing down on my already beaten soul. I need to get somewhere in the 88% range on next Wednesday's Patho exam, and going out to watch a bunch of queens running in the rain ain't the way to do it. I'll study hard for this exam - in fact I've already been studying hard - but Christ on a Bike, I need a break every once in awhile.

There was a small group of us and we got to the Race around 7:30, which was enough time to get us 2nd row view in with a boisterous crowd, which helped make the time go by.

Participants were already parading up and down the street, including a group of TWAT crew members. The guy next to us kept yelling to the guy dressed as the captain, "Hey TWAT Pilot! Hey TWAT Pilot!" I'm still trying to figure out a way to incorporate Twat Pilot into my everyday vocabulary.

Later my friend Brady, dressed in some kind of "Cash for Clunkers" group costume (with a bunch of other guys from my swim team), came over to talk to me.

Brady: "You should be out here with us," he said.
Me: Umm, no thanks.
Brady: "Seriously. (To the group of people around me): Folks, don't you think he should be doing this? He'd be fabulous!"
Crowd around me: [... crickets ...]

Thanks, crowd. Seriously, I just can't win.

It was time for Brady to go, so he planted a big kiss on my lips. I turned to Dana:
Me: "Do I have lipstick on my face?"
Dana: "Yes. It kinda looks like you've got The Herp."

Radness. So I left it on for the rest of the event.

The race itself was over in about a minute. Is it worth it to stand out in the rain for 90 minutes just to see a one-minute race? Yep. I'll do it again next year.

At the same time, one of the queens running past began to lose parts of her costume, and a flesh-colored rubber dildo landed at our feet. Christ, if I had a dollar for every time a dildo was tossed in my direction...

Seeing a great photo opp, I picked it up and offered it to Dana, Caroline and Katie, thinking how funny it would be to get a shot of the three of them with the dildo. Of course, they were having none of that. But Dana and Caroline - those quick-witted minxes - snapped a few photos of me holding it. As did a few other people around me that I don't know. Sweet. Knowing there are photos of me out there holding a floppy, pinkish-tan dildo in public will keep me awake at night.

After the Race was over, we all went our separate ways. I knew the Red Line would be packed, so I decided to hoof it back to the Heights. As I walked back in the rain, I thought about how much fun the evening had been. I've been so stressed these last few weeks, and tonight I just felt so happy to be in DC. Everyone seemed to be out, being friendly and agreeable and I thought this is when I like this city best. I also thought about the people I've been making friends with, and how much I enjoy spending time with them, and I'm feeling like everything is going to be OK.

Sure, these feelings will likely be re-replaced tomorrow with stress, doom and gloom, but tonight all is right with the world.

Dealbreaker

So I've been jonesing to see Where the Wild Things Are since it opened last week. The book was my childhood favorite, and many months ago (like, back in August) I decided to be Max for Halloween. I'm a big fan. A lot of my friends know this and, in fact, several are surprised that I didn't see it opening night.

Anyway, I wanted to see it last weekend, but didn't (stupid Health Assessment mid-term), then planned to see it Wednesday night after my presentation in Promo, but remembered I had a meeting (stupid Academic Council).

So fast-forward to today: I'm feeling hungover and not social, but at the same time I'm feeling guilty about not seeing L in a week, so I think I should probably provide a little care and feeding to this non-relationship. (I spent the afternoon studying with Emily, who asked: "So, what are we calling you two these days?" Nothing. We are calling it nothing.)

Going to see WTWTA would be a perfect solution - provide me with a little pick-me-up, opportunity to spend some time with L in a very safe, non-tempting environment. A win-win (for me and myself, anyway). Phone conversation went like this:

Me (excited): "Want to go see Where the Wild Things Are??"
L: "Hmm, Not really. I heard bad things about it."
Me: "????"
L: "What else is playing?"
Me: "Wait. What? Like what? How ridiculous."
L: "Some parents were complaining that it is too boring, or something like that."
Me: "..."

Too boring? If ever there was a dealbreaker, this is it. What am I doing here with this? Care and feeding of this fake relationship has got to stop.

So we're going to Paranormal Activity instead. Sure, I want to see that too, but this is a poor substitute/consolation prize , but whatever.

Yeah, So I'm Drunk and Want Some Peanut Butter...

I know it is 4:05 in the A.M., Mr. CVS security guard.
Just let me pay for my Skippy and we can be on our way, biiiitch!

What Up With That?

Sure, I think this season of SNL is up there with the worst ever.

But am I the only one who thought that the sketch "What Up With That?" is one of the funniest things? Ever? Between Jason Sudeikis' random break dancing and the weird Peekaboo Street robot dance moves, I lose my shit every time I watch it. It starts out a little slow, but about 2 minutes in, it starts getting all fucked up.

And then of course there's White Pete, the Sexecutioner. ET Likes Resse's Pieces indeed.

Sounds Like A Subdural Hematoma To Me

I have been getting the Shit kicked out of me at school this and last week. Things are rough because it is mid-terms so I'm Living the Dream.

I mentioned in my last post that I've realized I've become a B student (cue the violins). I'm having a harder time accepting this than I originally thought. Yeah, I know I need to just get over it. I think I'm just not used to spending so much time studying and in return getting less-than-stellar results. Yesterday's Assessment mid-term yielded me a C - a Fucking C! - and I should have scored in the high B range. I mean, I know the material.*

And last week I had a take-home test and scored an 88%, even though I actually spent the time to look up every answer. How the hell do I get an 88 when I looked up every answer? How much of a retard am I? FML.

OK, I am done being a whiny bitch.

My friend Mimi sent this to me last week and it cracks me up so I'm posting it here. Of course, it likely isn't funny to most people. I hope that in a year or so I'll still be laughing. After all, it's not my job to diagnose.



* Obviously not.

Mark the Date...

[Note: the above image is the 4th image to come up in Google image search for "B student." I'm not endorsing rifle hunting or anything like that. Not to say that there aren't times when I'd like to become proficient in using one. You know, just in case the opportunity presents itself.]

Well, it has finally happened. I was walking in the rain to class this morning and noticed I was both laughing and talking. To myself. Just me.

Mark the date, I am officially Crazy. Personally, I might have predicted Crazy to hit a bit earlier in the semester - I would have pegged sometime around Oct. 1 - so that fact that I'm 7.5 weeks into the school year before it hit is a proud achievement.

Also, I'm gassy. Just puttin' it out there - literally (see what I just did there).

This week and next I face a barrage of mid-terms. Three this week, two next and a presentation Wednesday. Also, I think I need to come to grips with the fact that I might be a B Student. Pretty much nothing but B/B+s so far this semester (at least in the classes that count*), and I just don't see things turning around to such a degree that I'll ace most of them.

Years ago, was I was Undergrad 1.0, this would have been fine. More than acceptable. This time around though, it kinda pisses me off.

* And then there's Patho, which is another story entirely.

I Need to Get the Control Back Into My Life (ya hear that, alcohol?)

No school today, so it was to be a productive day for catching up. Plan was: wake up at 8, head to the gym for a swim and possibly a run, then a good 9 hours of studying at the library.

Instead: wake up at 10 feeling like shit. Sweats and shakes and dizziness. A few gulps of water, then into the shower. Clothes on, then the decision that there's no way I can possibly hop on a bike and head to campus, so instead back in bed for another 30 minutes. I guess this is what happens when you go to bed at 4:30.

The weekend started out promising enough. Stayed in Friday night to study and do a little cleaning. Saturday - early swim at Wilson HS, then more studying in the afternoon. Ended the night with drinks with L., Jason and Justin. So far so good...

Went back to L's place, started making out. Once again it was nice. So I had to put a stop to it. I started to explain to him all the reasons it isn't a good idea for me to be back at his place, making out with him in his living room (yet again); I don't want to lead him on, lead him to think this "relationship" could possibly go anywhere; blah blah blah...

L (interrupting): "You know, you think too much. You need to just shut up and get into the bedroom."
Me; "Ummm, OK."

I guess at that moment I just grew tired of putting up a fight. His persistence (and, Christ, he sure has been persistent) wore me down. Without getting into details, let's just say that on a very technical level Operation Celibacy in still in tact. But certain, um, liberties, were taken.

Anyway, on Sunday I met up with Emily and Brian at Nelly's to watch the Raven's game. Buckets upon buckets of beers were consumed and the afternoon turned into evening on the upstairs patio and the weather was simply gorgeous and we were laughing and drinking and enjoying the company and the crowd and the crisp autumn air.

Fueled by a good buzz, Emily and I then headed to Alero for dinner, then walked back up to Columbia Heights were she got in her car and headed home. I should have called it an evening too, but my friend Doug was in town from NYC and drinking at Nelly's with his softball team so I made a return trip.

From here, the evening gets a little more blurry. Me and my Hoya Saxa, Bitches t-shirt were getting some attention and some flirtations at Nelly's then at Cobalt. Culminating with a cute guy coming up to me out of nowhere asking if he could Make Out with Me. Sure, why the hell not?

Very Little Good has come from this weekend. I need to get some control back in my life. I'm not heading out on weekends anymore. Until Halloween, anyway. I can do this, right?

Best Text Conversation of the Week

From my brother, this morning:

Brother: "Dad asked if you live in a bad neighborhood. Something about FedEx not delivering."
Me: "Tell that whiny bitch to grow up."

Is This a Musical Table?

[This photo from Thursday's IASIP pretty much represents the conversation with the Local 16 bouncer (see below). There's me (played by Charlie - duh) explaining to him why he should let me try the chair-dancing; And there's Kelley (played by Sweet Dee) telling the bouncer that I'll likely break my neck but it would be "hil-AR-ious (totes);" And then there's John (played by Dennis) as the constant voice of reason, subtly begging the bouncer to put me in a head lock.]

It was a big week. Lots going on; lots of stress.

It is also my new friend Kelley's 30th birthday, so a bunch of us went out to celebrate. Take built-up stress from Patho + a 30th birthday, and you get some drunkery. No diggity.

Plus, it was my boo House of Jules birthday, and I promised her a Ginner in her honor (ginner = dinner with gin. Her brilliant idea.) And while no gin was had (just Peroni, Soco and lime shots, and a little dose of some St. Germain to kick it), Jules would have been proud of my game, 'cuz I was On like Chaka Kahn.

Hearts were broken. First, Mimi got shot-down by the bartender at St. Ex. Second, a guy in the bathroom at Local 16 offered - completely unsolicited, honest - to show me his "huge cock" (his words), which I politely declined. Next, Kelley refused my romantic advances late in the evening, despite my attempts to wow her and the group with some sweet chair-dancing moves.

Scene - Local 16, closing time:
Bouncer: "Sir, what are you doing with that chair?"
Me: "I'm about to do that move where I jump up on the chair, tip it over, and still land on my feet like at the end of that Janet Jackson vidja."
Bouncer: "Sir, you and your friends are going to have to leave."

What else? For about 90 seconds I had the whole dinner table convinced I was a first alternate on the 1992 Olympic Fencing Team in Barcelona. It was my best acting yet. Plus, I really feel like I need to Keep the Dream Alive.

My Head's to the Wall...

... and I'm lonely.

Georgetown is in the flight path for both arriving and departing flights at National. So pretty much every minute of the day you can look up from your textbook or class and into the sky and see a plane coming in or out of DC.

Maybe it's because I really had hoped to go back to Chicago this weekend, but these last two weeks every time I see a plane ascending to the West, I think, "God, wouldn't it be nice to be on that?"

McButters Book of Lists

[or not]

Top 5 Reasons I May Fail Tomorrow's Pathophysiology Exam:

1. There's something called bacteria. And then there's something called a virus. Apparently, there's a difference between the two.
2. I may have completely forgotten to read an entire chapter. Whoops.
3. Still don't know what the word "pathophysiology" even means.
4. 50 multiple choice questions in 55 minutes. Impossible. Butters don't churn like dat.
5. The sequence of events leading to cell death is commonly decreased ATP production, failure of active-transport mechanisms (the sodium-potassium pump) cellular swelling, detachment of ribosomes from the endoplasmic reticulum, cessation of protein synthesis, mitochondrial swelling as a result of calcium accumulation, vacuolation, leakage of digestive enzymes from lysosomes, autodigestion of intracellular structures, and lysis of the plasma membrane. Or some Shit like that.
   

It's October Now...

... you can ditch the flip-flops, fratty.

It's 62 degrees and rainy. Did you not look out the window before you left your apartment?

And while we're at it, let's lose the shorts too. Have a little self-respect.

Not Impressive Sundays

Last Sunday morning at swim practice, coach tells me that for the next set she wants to see some fast swimming; that she "wants to be impressed." I tell her: "I don't impress on Sunday."

In honor of that, I present you with Not Impressive Sundays, a recap of all the fucked up highlights from the previous week, either done by me or done to me.

• On Monday I got called out -- in front of the entire lecture hall -- by my Patho professor for talking. How old am I?
  
• Saturday was my course-correcting lunch with L. The goal was to explain to him that even though last Saturday night was fun, I'm not really interested in pursuing anything, on any level, over the next few months. Did that conversation happen? No, of course not. In fact the exact opposite happened - I think we might now be dating. Not sure how that's going to fit into Operation Celibacy, but I guess I'll worry about that when I'm not freaking out about Patho.
• Apparently I'm now sleeping with my textbooks. Went to bed Wednesday night with Health Assessment, started to read it, and when I woke Thursday morning it was still lying next to me, still open to page 402. Sadly, I didn't catch anything from it.
• On Friday, Chicago lost the bid to host the 2016 Olympics. This is Obama's fault, obviously. I was bummed, but then I realized that outside of Chicago, nobody really gives a shit.
• Saturday night I was supposed to stay in to study (for big Patho exam happening this Wednesday) but instead went out to a party and slammed 3 beers in a matter of 20 minutes, pretty much decimating any hope of studying post-party. Why do I do this to myself? On the upside, I got groped in the ass by some guy in the back yard. No, it was totally unsolicited and unwanted, but hey I guess I'll take it any way I can get it.
  

I Was Supposed to Study for Patho-Fizz Tonight...

... but somehow instead wound up at a party and really buzzed from 4 beers in 90 minutes.

That is all.

Butters...

Things Contributing to My Well-Being:

1. Frequent hand washing
2. The new David Gray
3. The new Neil Finn/7 Worlds Will Collide #2
4. Sugar cookie with sprinkles, from Dean & Deluca
5. $5 foot longs from Subway (seriously, I've eaten more Subway in the past 3 weeks than I have in 3 years. How else can you have both lunch & dinner for only $5??)

Things Not Contributing to My Well-Being:

1. Ragweed, Chenopods, Nettle (or some shit like that)
2. Pathopysiology (or more specifically, my lack of motivation to study Pathophysiology)
3. $5 foot longs from Subway

With Maps, a Mountain Range, A Piggy Bank

I'm sitting here trying to study for a big Patho exam happening next Wednesday. This class is tough, and there are hours upon hours of materials to study. I can count on one hand the number of times I've stayed in on a Friday to study. This is certainly the first since classes started 5 weeks ago. I think I'm supposed to feel accomplished but instead just feel behind.

I got home from a great clinical tonight feeling energized. But there's so much to know for my clinical - so many terms I'm not familiar with, I could spend the weekend just reviewing the skills and concepts that we learned this week. Makes me fuzzy and a bit defeated.

I baked a frozen pizza for dinner and unwound for a bit. The plan was to start studying at 7, but then I needed to go out for a walk and get some fresh air. Like most nights lately, the air is cool, fresh and welcoming. (The night sky tonight looks a lot like the one in the photo above.)

I called my parents - my mom just got back tonight from a 2-week trip to Ireland. She asked me about school - It is tough. Really tough. But I am in love with my cohort and classes are good. Did I mention it is tough? It's kinda amazing the amount of contorting and breaking of your old lifestyle and habits that needs to happen just to keep your head above water with 6 classes, each of which is pretty demanding in its own way. I talked to my Dad. When he was hanging up he actually said I love you, which he hardly ever says. It sorta breaks my heart.

I then walked over to my friend Jason's house, which he just bought and moved into on Wednesday. I walked up to the front porch. The living room light was on but he wasn't home. I sat on the swing and took it all in. A beer would be good right now. I imagined the next few years, and the thought of sitting on this porch often over the next 4 years made me feel good, but it was odd too. What am I going to be like when this experience is over, when my commitment to DC is finished?

I called L to finalize lunch plans for tomorrow, then my friend Emily. As the night went on I started growing lonely, and I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I thought about calling some friends from Chicago and Portland, but I didn't have the energy. My brother too. But I wouldn't know where to start.

In the last two weeks I've had rather tough realizations about some of the relationships in my life, grappling with the idea that when I think of my long-term future, I'm more alone than I wanted to believe; that I've had to re-evaluate some of the relationships I've been taking for granted. And I think of one of my favorite songs, Iron & Wine's "The Trapeze Swinger" and it is particularly heartbreaking on a night like tonight ("...The trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last...") and it hurts to even type these words so I'm moving on...

As I sat on Jason's porch, I saw people walking by - couples, neighbors, friends - all laughing and smiling, having good times together, sharing lives together - and I can feel that hole inside me grow just a little bit bigger.

There's that part of me that wants to open up to new relationships that seem to be budding here in DC, and the other part of me that thinks it best to keep these people at arms length because I just don't need the distraction right now. And it's this conflict that makes me a little blue.

So here I am. Me and my Patho lectures. And it is almost 10, so I need to get to it.

Go Chicago!

So in about 13 hours Olympic history will be made and the world will know which city will host the 2016 Games.

This topic has been debated for years. And in Chicago over these last few weeks it has been hard to pay attention to anything else.

I'm a Chicagoan, born and raised. True, I don't live there now, but I full well might be come 2016.

I hope Chicago wins.

There is a lot of opposition to it. The biggest arguments from Chicagoans include: the chance that city taxpayers might have to pay an enormous price tag; that the money being spent could pay for services more desperately needed; And that Daley is an ass (my buddy Guy from Chicago posted a few convincing arguments against it here). I get these. I get all the arguments against Chicago 2016. And yes, it is easy for me to ignore the headaches (traffic, construction, etc.) and instead rather blindly support and hope for a win while I'm living in another city.

But for me it comes down to this: in 30 or 40 years, when people who are against Chicago 2016 (like these fucktards) are looking back on their lives and taking stock, I just don't see any of them reminiscing with "Remember that time when we successfully blocked Chicago from winning the Olympics? That was cool." What I do imagine, however, is a million Chicagoans reminiscing about how amazing it was back in 2016 when people from all over the world came to the city and were there with them when history was made.

Or maybe I'm just full of shit.

Anyway, good luck today, Chicago. I'll be cheering for you.

UPDATE:

O damn. Maybe next time.

(I think this woman is my old boss from the hospital.)

One Month...

Today essentially marks the start of my second month of school. Yep, one down, only 15 more to go. To mark the occasion I sent the cohort this lovely haiku:

Wow, how the Time flies

Making all kinds of new Friends

Krebs Cycle Sucks Ass

I wanted to send a video of an interpretive dance I've been working on, but I was not successful in finding a panther or cobra for it. Maybe for the 6 month anniversary instead...

Oh Woa Woa, I'm on Fire

This weekend was my swim team (DCAC)'s annual Fall Ball invitational meet, of which I was a volunteer. I decided a while ago that I was not going to compete because I'm nowhere near in the shape that I'd like to be in order to participate; plus, I also don't want the added stress of worrying about competition while I'm school (I'll be lucky to get in more than 2 workouts a week, I figure).

Anyway, it was a good time because I served as runner between the Timers and the Clerk of Course, which basically meant I got to see and talk to a bunch of volunteers and swimmers throughout the day. I flirted with some of them, and amazingly enough got flirted back at also.

Saturday night was the after-meet reception at Halo which was also a good time. I didn't really eat dinner so after a few free drinks (pocket stuffed with free drink coupons - score) I was feeling buzzed and happy. And also, the stars seemed to be aligned in a way they rarely seem to be these days, and I received some attention from a few gentlemen callers, which made me feel even more buzzed and happy. (Although, sadly, not an ounce of attention from Crush #1, who is, 1) mind-numbingly cute and; 2) also [I found out] single, and for these two reasons had guys surrounding him all night like white on rice.)

But I digress.

The night before I'd met a guy (let's call him L) at Vapiano and to make a long story short ended up back at his place, making out on his couch. Yes, I'm a bit lonely; and yes, maybe a bit needy (and yes, more than a bit "anxious" as Beetlejuice would say); and L is a great kisser. We were going at it for a long time, exploring each other's mouths, bodies, etc. It felt really good. Duh.

"Let's go into the bedroom," he said finally. And most of me really wanted to. But then suddenly I had a moment of clarity. There was focus. And this weird little voice inside me. Seemingly before I could stop myself, I was blurting out words:

Me: "Umm, there's something you should know..."

L: "... You're married?"

Me: "Ha! No. I'm... celibate."

L: "Ha, good one!"

Me: "Uh, no. I'm serious..."

L: "Seriously? As in ..?"

Me: "Yep, as in I don't ..."

L: "..."

Me: "Yeah... Sorry."

And I explained all the reasons: Trying to stay focused; not wanting a distraction; wanting a little discipline in my life; and although he was cool about it, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a freak (and not in a good way, like in a Superfreak kind of way).

Since I'd pretty much killed the mood at that point, the only thing left to do was go home. In the rain. At 3 am. And as much as it kinda sucked excusing myself from such a fun situation, I am glad that I was able to maintain some control.

On the long, rainy walk home I rewarded myself with a Big Mac from the all-night McDonald's on 17th St. Because really, the next best substitute to sex is an order of soggy super-sized fries.

Casualties of My Lifestyle Change (Pt. II)

[Ed. Note: See here for Pt. I]

And yeah, this one stings a little:

8. Flying home to Chicago whenever I want.

Since I arrived last month I set as a goal a non-specific weekend date in October to return back to Chicago to visit friends and family.*

I thought about Columbus Day Weekend, because 1) it is a three day-er for me; and 2) it is the same weekend as the Marathon, for which I could go cheer on a few friends.

Tickets are hovering around $300. I just can't afford it (anymore). And it isn't like I'm waiting until the last minute - prices have been this high for the last 2 weeks.

Ditto for the weekend after that, too. Looks like I may try again for early November.

I was once naive to believe that there might still be hope - via way of one of those "last minute deals" websites - but we all know those don't really exist (seriously, I've never met anyone who has actually scored a last minute deal anytime anywhere).

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little disappointed. I could really stand a visit back home to see friends and family.*

* Or, as would be more accurate, "Get the fuck out of DC before I kill someone."