I'm available

No. Not in that way. Stop looking at me like that.

As of eleven days ago, I no longer have a job. Oh wait, I do, but only until August. Then I will be most assuredly available (unless I want to move to North Carolina.) (Which I most assuredly do not.)

Everything but my wallet says I should not go there - that I should stay here and try to make my way, somehow. Any which way.

And y'all know what? I have no idea how to do that.

For starters, I don't think I want to teach anymore. I have been beyond burned out for a long time. People (almost everyone I know) say I should finish my doctorate. Ha! Those people think "getting my doctorate" is something as simple as running out for a jar of peanut butter. (IT"S TOTALLY NOT! IT'S A COMPLETE PAIN IN THE ASS!)

So what should Nina do? (She is open to suggestions.) (But maybe hold off on telling her to get her doctorate.)

While I Wait

I have about $200 worth of prescription medication being filled right now, and gosh I don't know whether to feel grateful that such medication exists or melancholy because the reality is I need all that stuff to keep me... alive. Well, let's go with gratitude, since gratitude is more attractive than self loathing.

Speaking of attraction, suddenly I am questioning my "celibate for life" policy based on nothing but the fact that celibacy now seems somewhat severe. Sometimes (often... always) when I am at the gym, I look at the men in the pool and consider whether they are my type or not. People, I haven't had a type since Bill Clinton was president. What to do about this? Should I start applying lipstick again? Should I try to get into my skinny jeans and attempt to be attractive? I really don't know. More on this later.

Oh! I moved. A block away from my job. Two days ago I got the worst performance review in the history of my career, but since I am focusing on the positive, we'll just not talk about that. Well, not today.

Caution! Here is what could happen to your apartment if you go to graduate school a whole lot:



Oh and I bought a dresser that fit perfectly into my apartment. (Please note that I had to buy children's furniture in order to accomplish this.)



One more! My bed matches the dresser. Maybe if I fit into my skinny jeans and start wearing lipstick again I will meet a man person who will tolerate a full size bed. Full beds are kind of small for two people. (What the hell am I talking about? Celibate! Forever!)





See you... next time.

Love,

Nina

Snow, weirdness, pancakes

It snowed about a foot in New York City last night and today it is still... snowing. I wonder how this will impact my move to the new place. (And no, Karl, the drawing was definitely not to scale).

Here are some real pictures for you.




I know these are not very helpful, but it is a small apartment. As much as I am excited, I have an underlying feeling of dread. It has taken some time for me to sort it out, but I now realize the dread comes from having something to lose again, even if it is just furniture and dishes that match. So lately I have to kick myself in the ass about twice a day to remind myself that people do indeed buy furniture and utensils and bath mats and trash cans, and that no, owning these things does not make me frivolous and wasteful. Does it??? I am clearly not a very good consumer.

It's still snowing and I haven't gotten much packing done this morning. So the obvious thing to do is make pancakes. Flip! See you tomorrow.

Dig if you will...

OK.

It's a drawing.




This is where I am moving on Saturday. It has been a long time coming. (Don't be sad if you can't quite understand the floor plan. It confuses me too.

Since you are here, go give a big kiss to Adam, who recently moved also. Times are a' changin' for him, too.

Love,

Nina

Owning the slow lane

Today I went to the gym. (I have gone to the gym every day since January 1st). (I am still not hot).

But so anyway I was at the gym and I figured since I had the swim suit with me I would swim laps after my normal work out, you know, sort of like bonus calorie burning.

(Digression: I swam competitively in college, which is to say I drank a whole lot and then compensated for it by showing up to practice each afternoon and gasping my way through a division three work out in the SLOW lane. I was never in it for crushing other people with my speed and prowess. I was into detoxification and, to be perfectly honest... perfect form. I thought of nothing as I swam those laps (NOTHING! NOTHING!) except perfect form (oh and maybe should I sleep with my BFF's boyfriend... yes or no?).

So today dove into the slow lane and OH MY...

I cannot begin to tell you what the water felt like. Memories of all those mid afternoons and early mornings spent lapping back and forth across the pool rushed back my limbs and suddenly I was half way across the pool and oh my God... it was, no joke, heaven. If there is a heaven, mine has a long course swimming pool. With the little flags over the top for backstrokers.

Happy. Glide, glide, breathe glide, flip, glide, etc.

Then someone else got in my lane, and that is when the second most unexpected thing happened. I got, how you say, aggressive. Almost hostile. I had to be faster than she was and I made damn sure I was. Glide, glide, breathe flip truned into a ferocious attention to gaining time on the turns and stepping up tempo and breathing efficiently SO I COULD CRUSH THE ENEMY.

(I crushed her).

But seriously, I was surprised at myself. A lot. I haven't seen that person in a long, long time. In college, I owned the slow lane. I was the fastest person in it and my form was exquisite, but I lost races. I was just not that fast. I lived with it. I had big boobs and I drank a lot so I figured I was doing the best I could given my physical and personal limitations.

But now, at forty, with even bigger boobs, and serious limitations I won't even begin to list, all that losing has caught up with me. I don't want to be slow anymore. Or medium with good form WHATEVER ALREADY. I want to win.

And all this has me thinking: what happened? I am not competitive. I don't compare myself to others. I feel good about others' achievements. I like not standing out. RIGHT?

Well, hell if I know. In the pool at least, I am just not that person anymore. It makes me wonder what else about me is changing. (I'll take change. Pretty much everything about me is material for revision).

Love love love. It's the only thing that matters. (Ok, that and winning).

Hair place

If you have an iPhone you can post while you are getting your hair done. And if that doesn't convince you to get an iPhone, I am very sorry for you.

Julie tells me I should abandon my flailing redesign efforts, move to wordpress, get my own URL, and rethink the mission statement of the blog. I expect she is correct. After all, it's previous usefulness has exhausted itself. The self destruction is complete. (I am now rebuilding. Watching people rebuild is so boring).

Remember when I said I was going to write a novel? But then never said another word about it?

It turns out that writing a novel is hard, but not in the way I expected it to be. Writing is no problem. All the emotional crap it dredges up is both surprising and, well, weird. Sort if like swimming up hill. Will I post some of it? Meh. Probably.

Have an excellent day. I am headed for the shampoo bowl.

I am an idiot

I was thinking in the shower today. (Naked! Naked!)

I am an idiot. Here's why:

1) I have a hard time drinking water and breathing at the same time. Seriously. I turn blue.

2) I can make out with a guy and like, have his tongue in my mouth, but I'll break up with him if he expects me to eat off the same fork. That is SO gross.

3) I am afraid of the sound of toilets flushing in the dark. But ONLY when it is dark out.

4) I cry EVERY SINGLE TIME I watch the episode of LOST when Charlie dies.

5) I watch LOST.

6) Oh my God.

7) I am totally fine with how fat I have gotten, yet I won't wash my hair more than twice a week because I don't want it to get "damaged". UH... could I be more damaged... like... everywhere else?

8) Speaking of idiotocity, I put SEVEN different things on my face each day to prevent aging. I am going to be FORTY in ten days. Ten days, people. The bell has rung.

9) I am forty and I still have daddy issues.

10) I am forty and I still count fat grams and calories (note how little good it does me).


Anyone else feel stupid today?

(I love you).

Nina

Are we getting anywhere?

Is this any better? I think it looks pretty awful, but I am used to the dark and storminess. Is the red doing anything for anyone?? The white background?

Also: I believe that novels, like all essays, should have thesis statements. My current working thesis:

If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.


The quotation comes from the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas. If Jesus really said this, and I hope he did say it... uh, Jesus you are absolutely correct. If you don't give what you have, all that havingness will come back and bite you square in the ass. Destruction is certain.

Another note: thinking about writing the book has been fun because WOW have I done great work in the area of being angry and blaming others for everything. Since I take comedy any way I can get it, I have been getting lots and lots of laughs making notes for this book. Let me know if you want special tips in the area of blaming others or feeling viciously and sadistically persecuted. I have special skills in these areas.

I love you just because you are you, but also because you are beautiful, and I can't help myself (and because you show up here and read about my badness).

Love,

Nina

Ignore the weirdness

I am trying to re-jigger the template. I haven't decided what should go where yet, but here we are for now. (Maybe a day, tops).

Request for Advice

I started this blog a few years ago, and when I started, the blog had no purpose at all. AT. ALL.

Then it developed a purpose. It got me through the death of my father and all manner of other related crapulence. I have maintained the blog - though it had no clear purpose - and since those events (see: crapulence), I have tried to write.

I think we all agree that the better posts are in the archives.

The advice I request has not to do with whether I should keep blogging. I shall. Really. (Please don't look at me like that).

What I want to know is this: as I embark on the book project unrelated to this blog (but not without overlap)... can I, should I, shall I... write about the book?

And what is the book...?

It is a novel. It is not the Whole Story of Why I Sharpen My Knives.

It is just a story.

(In which perhaps one character will maintain a shocking collections of very sharp knives).

Can I blog about it... ?

Learning

Things I have learned this year:

1) People really can change. I have changed several times this year.

2) It is possible, with the proper motivation, to eat an entire bag of Veggie Booty.

3) And then drink a beer

4) Good grammar is wholly unnecessary if the sentiment is sincere.

Place Holder

In order to maintain my "back" status, I am posting this uselessness.

Is it useless?

It depends.

Have you heard of Joseph Arthur?

....

Good heavens.

....

Get you some.

Yes, Jane

Yes, Jane. I am back.

Although to be fair I am working on acquiring my own URL and to be fair I am fairly sure I am going to transfer few (if any) old posts from here. But Nina, so far as Nina goes, is back.

So very back.

(But not the old Nina. The past is over. I didn't know. I really didn't know. Meaning: When I started this blog with a careless post about making out with platonic friends... I didn't KNOW that this blog would be the public record of the most fucked up {to date! to date!} time of my life).

I just didn't know. But now I do. Now I can blog with a little more self awareness. Although... seriously.... I am making no promises in the area of promising. Which might be construed as unpromising.


But I am going to write.

And also: no one answered my question. How are you?


ps. I know. I should check your blogs if I want to know how you are. I will. I will. I want to, and I will, and soon you will see me there, but right now I am just sticking my toe into the water. But yeah, see you soon. Meantimes, how are you?

Welcome to Latvia!

I was in the airport last week for six hours. And while I was there, I had a moment of pure ______________. It occurred to me that I had my passport and enough funds on my person to get out of the country. Options: Casablanca, Lima, Sydney, Riga, Hong Kong, Ulan Bator.

Seriously. I could have been gone. Just gone. Deferring problems so great and terrible that the very wizard himself would have fled the curtain and run screaming from the set. I could have been drinking fermented horse milk (and stuff like that). In Ulan Bator. (Latvia, I hear, is also an excellent option. Someday I will go).

I did not board a flight for some foreign land. I exited the airport and took my passport and my small accumulation of cash (some of which isn't even mine) and went... home.

Instead I am going to try to make my life work. Fix up the broken pieces and toss out that which cannot be fixed. All from right here: New York City.

Latvia will have to wait, but when I do make it there, I sincerely hope that I am wearing a set of raggedy overalls.

And how are you?

Love,

Nina

PS Photo from some recent decade when overalls were fashionable (at least among us Target dwellers). I still wear those sometimes...)

Track Abandoned

"I am a railroad track abandoned."

You could know, of course, by googling.

On the other hand you try to relate to Buckley's insights. What do you have to add?