blocked

It's been a tough few months for writing.

I thought i had an artist for my comic book, but she's realized she's too busy to commit to this project and has gracefully backed out. I'm not mad at her or anything, and i completely understand (and was half-expecting) her refusal, but it's still really disappointing.

My workshop group hasn't met in ages. We kept getting delayed by various things: work commitments, school, migraines, lack of new things to review, weather disasters, holidays, and so on and so forth. I really miss that weekly gathering of creative intellectuals, as well as the motivation of a deadline.

I found a journal of women's environmental poetry that was looking specifically for prose poems, and i was all geared up to send them a submission, when i realized there was a reading fee to do so. Never send out anything you have to pay for; there's no guarantee of publication, and there are plenty of places that are more than happy to reject you for free. Hypothetically.

There's a lot of really emotional stuff happening for me right now, but it's happening right now, so it's hard to write about it clearly.

Since discovering Netflix, i'm much less inclined to sit reading or writing in the evenings, and much more inclined to knit and binge-watch Dr. Who. Which, while good for my knitting projects, is bad for my writing.

But.

Two of my roommates have moved out, and have been replaced by only one person. And it is absolutely worth the $100/month increase in rent to reclaim a little more peace, stability, and room in the house. We are hanging superhero posters in the hallway and organizing a library/bar/office in the corner room. The one with roof access.

I've been living in a nest for two years because i was too afraid to put my things in the house, because of what might happen to them. There also wasn't a lot of room, with four people crammed into a three-bedroom apartment. Now i'm de-cluttering my room and living like a human adult, instead of a magpie. My desk is in the library bar, in front of a window, with elephants and pictures of Boyfriend and Christina Hendricks for inspiration.

I have a shiny new phone that i mostly don't hate. (I've been resisting the smartphone upgrade since the debut of the Blackberry, but there's no escape now. The Samsung Galaxy Stellar, however, isn't terrible. If i have to have a smartphone, i'm glad i got this one.)

I have a nerdy friend who is going with me to the Neil Gaiman reading and signing this weekend. I am going to the Neil Gaiman reading and signing this weekend.

I have another nerdy friend who wants to have a sewing and cooking and drinking date with me soon. I'm really excited at the prospect of getting back into sewing.

I have a sexy, smart, caring, wonderfully weird boyfriend who snuggles me and is patient with me and goes on adventures with me and helped me make sangria last week. (My sangria recipe is amazing, by the way. I'll have to post it some time.) Sometimes i write terribly sappy poems about him and then send them to him through snail mail. Isn't that so cute you want to vomit?

I have, like, six different jars of fancy honey in my kitchen waiting for me to eat them. I also have an ice cream maker. I see honey-sweetened ice cream in my future.

I have Netflix! And tons of yarn! And, currently, not a lot going on in my life! This equals SWEATERS!!! It doesn't get much better than handmade sweaters in New England. (Unless, of course, it's July and they keep posting heat advisories. But i'll be glad of them in the winter, which is probably when they'll be finished, anyway.)

I have an awesome tattoo idea that will, someday, when i have money again (when i die), be an awesome tattoo.

I got fan-ish mail yesterday.

My cat is super cute.

Reason #17 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

He's been sick lately, and i've had things to take care of in my own apartment, so i haven't been able to take care of him every day.

saving me (love)

Love in all forms. Love from others. Love for others. Love of others for each other. Love for books. Love from my cat. Love for steak. Love from the earth. Promised love. Past love. The hope of future love. Making love. The love of others for one another. Ingrid Michaelson's songs about love. Love, love, love.

Reason #15 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

I live with all girls. I have three roommates, and they are all female. So who the hell bought fucking single ply toilet paper?!

Reason #14 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

One of my roommates went to the grocery store this week and brought back butter for everyone to use. Unsalted butter. Who does that?!

Reason #13 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

He understands the concept of "not dishwasher safe".

Reason #12 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

Last night, John took off my bra and proclaimed,
"I am the Abraham Lincoln of boobies! I have emancipated them from their garments of oppression!"

Reasons to Live With my Boyfriend

I've been posting individual list items on this topic for a while now. Some of them were humorous, but all were serious, in that we both have really terrible roommates.

However, i am currently paying $400/month in rent, and my utilities are only about another hundred. You can't beat that deal in the Boston area, unless you want to live in a rat-infested shoebox in a bad neighborhood. His rent is a little higher than mine, but still pretty good. I recently saw a one-bedroom apartment advertised for $1100/month, not including utilities. Next spring, i will be starting my student teaching, which will involve one whole semester of full-time, unpaid teaching. I'm looking for federal grants and part-time work, but i'll mostly be living off of my savings. Unless i find an insanely cheap apartment (like, less than $500/month including utilities) by September, there's no way i can fork up first/last/security and pack up again. It just won't be worth it.

But the time has come. John and i have reached a place in our relationship where we need more time for one another, need more attention from one another, but we can't always give it. He gets home at 3:00 and spends a few hours doing laundry, or eating, or doing the chores his roommates haven't, or lesson planning. I get home at 5:00 and spend a few hours cooking, cleaning, and doing homework. Once rush hour traffic has settled down, he heads over to my town for a choir rehearsal. Then i head to a 4-hour class. By the time we are both done with our day, all we have the energy to do is fall asleep, so that he can get up at 5:30 and get to school in time.

We see each other almost every day, but we spend very little time together. One of us is always in the middle of something: i am doing homework, or he is paying bills, or i haven't eaten all day and am too hungry to think straight, or he is talking to his parents about his dad's health, or he is looking at apartments and i am doing laundry. Even the weekends are usually filled with all the errands we didn't have time to do during the week.

This is the point in the relationship when most people would get married, but we've only been together 13 months, and we've really only known each other for about 17. We still need to find a church that we can go to together. We still need to finish our masters' programs. Have you ever moved in with someone who was a close friend, and within two months you could barely stand the sight of them? We need to make sure that doesn't happen with us. We've seen many, many, many couples who jumped into marriage, and while they married the right person, their speed put unnecessary strain on the relationship and they are now struggling and doubting. We have the rest of our lives to be married. We can take our time with the steps in between.

In the meantime, we miss each other. We need a mutual place that we can come to. We need to do the hard work of orienting our lives around one another. We need to share the space in the refrigerator, in the closet, in the garage, in the bathroom. We need to spend Saturday morning in bed, snuggling and having tickle-fights, because no one needs to get up and go home to do laundry. The laundry is right here, and we can put a load in the washer and get right back in bed. We need to argue about whose turn it is to buy milk, about which direction to hang the toilet paper, about which dishes go in the dishwasher and which are hand-wash only.

You say that your heart is mine. This, then, is love: i have learned to be at home in you, and in so doing, i have found myself at home in me.

purple heart redeux

After Adam was attacked, i knew i wanted to get a tattoo to memorialize his service and sacrifice. I wanted a purple heart, as that was the award he would receive, but i wasn't really sure where to put it. I thought about my shoulder blades, the nape of my neck, my rib cage, my forearm. But nothing seemed to fit. And then Adam's leg was removed, sixteen centimeters below his knee.

Pammer and i went on a weekend outing together. She wanted to get a new piercing, and i wanted to get my tattoo. We went to a place in Cambridge called Chameleon, and afterwards we went to a vegetarian/vegan diner.

The day before our date, Pammer was at work talking to a friend of hers about our weekend plans. Her friend (an older woman), was skeptical of our plans. "I understand the thought behind the tattoo design, but a tattoo is forever," she said severely. Pammer nodded and said, "So is an amputation."

Sixteen centimeters below the knee.

Reason #10 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that i can take care of him when he is sick.

Reason #9 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that neither of us will be the only person in the house who cleans the bathroom.

Reason #8 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that neither of us will be the only person in the house who takes out trash.

Reason #7 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that neither of us will be the only person in the house who changes light bulbs.

Reason #6 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

Pammer just asked me if cats can masturbate.
"I really don't know that much about cat sexuality," i told her.
She continued to try to have a totally serious conversation with me about cat masturbation.

Reason #5 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

My roommate just described our apartment as a concentration camp. "Because we just keep adding more and more people all the time."
I replied, "Yes. You're right. That's exactly what a concentration camp is: a place where people just keep getting added."
She just laughed.

Reason #4 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that neither of us will be the only person in the house who locks the door.

Reason #2 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend

So that neither of us will be the only person in the house who turns off lights.

winning

It was Saturday night, and my living room was one sip of wine away from a lesbian orgy.

One of my roommates used to sell sex toys from a company called Athena's. Although she is no longer an active representative (or "Goddess", as Athena's calls them), she still had lots of connections within the company. She and my other roommate decided to host a ladies-only party this weekend.

If you've never been to a sex toy party, think of it like a Tupperware party, but with fewer casseroles and more glitter and lube. It started out slow, with things like "Body Dew" (an oil that you mist onto your skin after showering to give yourself a healthy glow) and exfoliating scrubs. Our goddess for the evening, Juliet, demonstrated each product. For some, she chose a volunteer (usually me, since i was sitting next to her), and for some she simply passed around the sample and let everyone try it for themselves.

After the more innocuous beauty products, we moved on to pheromone-infused colognes and something called "Nipple Nibblers". This is a chapstick-like product applied -- you guessed it -- to the nipples. It is supposed to make them perky and produce a either a cool or warm tingling sensation. The exact effects differ from person to person. It is also flavored, for . . . well, for nibbling. For the Nipple Nibblers, Juliet passed the jar around and had each of us apply a small amount to our nipples. In the living room. With everyone else.

This was the last part of the evening with any pretensions to delicacy and innocence. Other tester products were given to girls to take into the bathroom, from whence they returned wreathed in smiles and sat back down awkwardly. And then we got to the toys. Let's just say that i no longer have any questions about anal sex or the different varieties of female orgasm and leave it at that.

At the end of the demonstration, we retired to the kitchen for penis cake and more wine, while girls went one by one into the living room to do their ordering privately. As hostesses, we were entitled to a discount rate based on the amount our friends had spent. Like commission-based store credit. Since one of my roommates was still entitled to her Athena's discount and i was not really in the market for anything, the whole credit went to one lucky roomie.

We're planning a co-ed (or Jack and Jill, to use the Athena's parlance) party for February. Right before Valentine's day. So that couples can . . . I can't think of any more polite euphemisms. It's so couples can get sexy with one another and singles can get sexy alone. Carissa, you are totally invited.

Irene

Irene is a Greek name that means peace.

This weekend, the eastern coast of the United States was hit by a hurricane named Irene.

As hurricanes go, Irene was not terrible. Thirty-two deaths have been reported so far, and while more may be discovered as we clean up, the worst that most people are facing seems to be power outages and damage to basement storage.

One of the reported deaths was in the county where i grew up.

This is the first major disaster i have faced since moving away from my family. Despite my generalized anxiety disorder (which is triggered more by social situations or getting lost than physical danger), i was not afraid. I did experience a healthy amount of rational concern, however. I stocked up on candles, got some cash, charged my Kindle and my phone, and settled in for a long weekend of Buffy and Angel marathons. (The Kindle was for in case the power went out.)

However, i was profoundly uncomfortable being away from my loved ones during a time of emergency. My mother and sisters went to a shelter that had been set up in their church. Power was out at their house and the church, but the church had an emergency backup generator. My dad was alone in his apartment, and also experienced some power outages. My boyfriend was at home with his parents, and their power also went out. In my apartment, the lights flickered a little, but other than that we were totally fine.

We all tried to use our phones as little as possible, knowing that we'd have to save the batteries for an emergency and that we didn't want to tie up the lines for people who already had emergencies.

I don't have a smart phone, which means that my battery can pretty much last all day with normal use. Almost everyone else i know has a smart phone, which means that their batteries only last a few hours. So my boyfriend and family were far away and incommunicado.

Although the experience was, for me, anticlimactic (and i am in no way trying to diminish or mock the experiences of those who died or were injured or lost loved ones or suffered some other kind of serious consequence because of Irene), it still hit me hard in a lot of ways.

I'm sort of the dad of my house. I am the one who most often remembers to take out the trash. I am the one who most often remembers to lock the door at night and turn out the lights. I am the one who knows things about fiberglass mesh tape and different kinds of pliers. And when we were preparing for the storm, i was the one who told my roommates that, when Massachusetts is officially in a "state of emergency" and has shut down all public transportation and asked people to stay off of the highways, it's probably not the best time to go to Applebees to watch a UFC match. I was the one who filled up the bathtub so that, if the power went out, we could still flush the toilet. And when the drain on the bathtub wasn't working, i was the one who went to the attic, found an empty plastic storage bin, and filled it with water. When the storm was over i was the one who emptied the bin. Had we experienced any serious storm-related emergencies, i am certain that i would have been the one directing recovery efforts in my apartment.

It's weird to be the adult. It's especially weird to be the adult when you are the youngest person in the house. And it is exceptionally weird to be the adult when there are no other adults you can lean on, or even consult with. I couldn't ask my parents about how to light our gas stove with a lighter if the power went out. I couldn't double-team with my boyfriend to storm-proof the house and make sure that my roommates were safe. I was all on my own.

This post is pretty fragmentary and pointless; i'm mostly just reflecting on my experiences and emotions. So i'll conclude with some fragments of a poem i'm working on, based on a text my boyfriend sent me about a month and a half ago.

if the world is coming to an end
i want to go down in your arms
let the water swirl around us
i'd trade the sunrise for your eyes

I guess my point, which is parenthetical at best, is that even a potential emergency has a way of putting our hearts on our sleeves. We dig down deep to the cores of ourselves and find what matters, find what we're really made of and what we really want. And if we're smart, then when the crisis has passed we hold on to what we've found.

Beer Street

My housemates and i have started a new blog. It's like Texts From Last Night meets Shit My Dad Says meets The Jersey Shore. Read it.