And then camel camel just laid down

Last week my parents got tired of me moping around the house and decided to send me to Phoenix with to see my brother. Essentially my dad said "Hey, do you want to go to Phoenix and stay in a luxury resort?" and I said "Yeah, I'm not busy".

So here I am, at the Camelback Inn. Yesterday I spent the whole day at the pool, gazing up at the mountain and being waited on by incessantly cheerful and tan young men. They seemed so eager to do something that I took to asking them whatever I happened to be thinking about at the time - things like "where can I get some Fritos" (tragically: no where) and "how onion-heavy is the salsa, on a scale of one to ten". They seemed REALLY happy to find answers for me. Like house elfs. (I've been reading Harry Potter again). Today I'm going to meet my brother's fiance's parents and then we're going to work on a new recipe for homebrewing.

Arizona creeps me out. Everything that's not brown is a slightly lighter shade of brown. There's no trees, and no water. Phoenix is very flat, and then there are big jagged mountains encircling it, but the mountains don't have any trees or shrubs. I do, however, like the cacti. I really like them. I keep stopping to examine different ones and physically restraining myself from touching them. I can't believe there are so many kinds. In my mind, cacti only exist as joke props for Wiley Coyote to land on, so seeing them just casually hanging out next to the sidewalk, as if they were some sort of normal plant, is really surprising. I also like Camelback Mountain itself, because it also looks unnatural.




What you can see in this picture (taken from my porch) is his hump and the back of his head. For a long time I thought he had two humps and a big rock at the front was his head, but it turns out he's a dromedary camel and the hump on the right is his giant head. It's like he just laid down to take a nap and turned into stone. I like looking at the Camelback at random times during the day to see if it's changed. It's best at sunset because it turns all red.

So anyway. While I do enjoy the lap of luxury (seriously, they make the beds while you're not looking and then come back and turn them down and then come back and make them), I'll be glad to get back to trees and river and especially the baby Phineas. Walking in the front door and not being greeted is not as much fun.

Time to go check on the mountain and do some high-quality reading of crime novels. Until next time, loyal readers.

Moments of authenticity

Earlier today I was striding through the airport, dodging all the slow people and whizzing past the confused ones, and I thought about how much I love airports. And especially how much I love walking through airports in a purposeful manner while dragging my rolling suitcase and carrying my tote. It's even better if I'm talking on the phone at the same time.

And this got me thinking about moments of authenticity in my own life. I feel alive and happy and purposeful in airports, but there are other moments in which I feel that I am totally myself. Such as walking to class, with a cup of coffee in my hand and my favorite vintage Coach briefcase slung over my shoulder. Or bringing a horse back into the barn after riding while teasing Phineas with my whip. Or standing knee deep in a river. Or reading on the porch (any porch) with a cup of coffee.

And now I'm wondering about your moments of authenticity, dear readers. Or possibly reader, singular. I don't have a fancy tracker to know if anyone reads this besides people who talk to me about it later.

Hmm. Someone just called me from what seems to be Roanoke, VA, but then didn't talk. Was that you, Julie?

Also - when did they start planting crops in circles? While flying over some otherwise boring parts of the country today I noticed that instead of the normal squares and rectangles, there were lots of circles.

Also - how much do I wish I could stick my head out the window of an airplane? THIS MUCH. Because I bonk my forehead on the window every time while trying to get a better view of whatever I'm looking at on the ground.

In which Dorothy and Toto go on the lam

My facebook status says "Goodbye, Knoxville" because today I moved out.

I left my Market Square apartment, I quit my job, I said good bye to a few key people, and I skipped town. I left like a thief in the ... mid-morning. Which is pretty much the middle of the night to most people I know, anyway. If I'd tried to leave at midnight, I would have seen everyone I know on the way out.

I left for several reasons. I was going to go at the end of June anyway, because I was just waiting for Sundown (read as: the Sundown money) to be over. But work had gotten progressively more lame and non-profitable because no shows are being booked because the owner has given up on the place and run all the managers off. Last Friday I made $18. $18. On a Friday night. At a bar.

And then, last weekend, my dog bit someone. He's an asshole, he's always trying to bite people, but this time he actually managed to - which was entirely my fault and for which I feel incredibly guilty. The person he bit stated repeatedly that she didn't want to press charges, but just in case, I thought Phin better go into hiding. His location is currently undisclosed.

In addition to all that, I got into the PhD program I wanted the most! I'm headed to the ATL. Coming on the heels of all the other changes, I haven't had time to relish that and celebrate.

So I was done with Knoxville. I'll miss it, but it was time.

Goodbye, Knoxville.

Little Women

I've been re-reading the book Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott, which was a favorite of mine when I was younger. I found it in my bedroom at my parents' house and thought to myself "hey, I loved this book, I should re-read it".

That was a mistake.

What a sanctimonious pile of bullshit this book has turned out to be, upon further (and admittedly, more feminist) reflection. The 4 main characters (all sisters) are continuously taught that the mark of a good person is one who never considers her own needs, but rather lives quietly and humbly and without desire. Granted, promoting the welfare of others and loving your neighbor and living within one's means are all excellent ideals toward which we should all strive. But every time one of the girls has a thought towards something she wants personally or a life outside of a heterosexual marriage that produces children, she is shamed by the others.

The most pious character, for god's sake, is so meek and loving that she's afraid to leave her home or speak to strangers, and eventually she dies of downright sickliness. And she's the gold standard to which they all strive! A woman who wants nothing but to live silently at home and serve her family is the model citizen.

Jo, the rambunctious one, is constantly criticized for enjoying exercise and speaking frankly. Her slight temper and outspoken honesty are major character flaws, in the opinion of her sisters and mother. She writes "little stories" which bring her great happiness and even a measure of financial independence - so guess what happens in the end? That's right, she gives up all of that to live quietly as the matron in a house run by her husband and filled with their children. WHICH BRINGS HER TRUE HAPPINESS. Not her writing - her duties.

Ok. I'm not saying that happiness can't be found in a family, in a husband, in children, or in service to others. But can we agree that there are multiple paths to happiness? I get that this novel was written in a time where women were taught that their own hetero marriage and household was pretty much all they could hope for, but how can this author be excused for exhaulting a sickly child and repressing a vibrant woman?

Oh, and even the "vain" one isn't allowed to find happiness until she stops having personality and turns to silently grieving the death of the meek one full time. At that point, and only at that point, does another character decide he loves her.

End lecture.

Limbo

I'm in limbo right now, waiting to hear back from GA State, and it's starting to get to me in a bad way. I can't make key decisions, like whether to fix the Volvo, when to leave town, which relationships to pursue and which to let go entirely, where to look for apartments, where to look for jobs, etc.

My job at the bar isn't going well because they've stopped scheduling and promoting shows, so there's not enough customers coming out which means there's not a lot of money to be made. I've been planing for some time to leave at the end of June, but the way it's going I could leave at any time without missing out on too much money.

I can't decide whether to keep pushing forward with energy or just hold really still until I find out what the future holds. I'm tempted to hibernate, although I know it's not good for me. But there's so little action I can take.

I'm stuck!

I'm sitting on my parents' porch in Pleasantville (not the real name, but more accurate) with a cup of coffee and two dogs, watching the neighbors roll by in their fancypants golf carts. The perfect blond mothers are taking their perfect blond children somewhere. Perhaps to a play date. Phineas is not pleased, because he hates things that roll and make noise.

I'm at home because on Saturday my friend Katie married my other friend Nick. It was a really beautiful wedding, and it genuinely reflected the character and asthetic of the bride and groom. Or at least of the bride. I suppose I can't say for sure about the groom. But there was a candy buffet and lots of giggling during the ceremony and plenty of silly pictures. I was the HBIC (read as: Head Bitch in Charge) for the wedding, because that's the roll Katie asked me to play. I kind of enjoyed being a wedding coordinator. I don't think I'd want to do that kind of thing professionally, but I got the whole business off without a hitch. Most of that, mind you, was due to Katie's EXTREMELY detailed schedule and well thought out vision of how she wanted things to go. But my watch and I deserve some credit.

After the wedding I thought it best to change scenes entirely, so I went to a hiphop show. My friend Mike (MIKE PALM!) is the tour manager for 2Fresh, who are these adorable twins who play a really kickass show. So I went to that in my formal wear and felt totally out of place, but it was really fun. It was interesting to see how Mike and his friends live. On the one hand, they're professional musicians touring the country and making money, but on the other hand they're hanging out at house parties hosted by 18 year olds and trying to figure out what happens in the morning. It was like being in high school and being a post-college young adult at the same time.

Phineas just busted through the gate on the front porch in order to break out and attack a dog who was walking by. Why must he be such an asshole?

Anyway.

On Thursday night I worked Sundown but left early to start driving. Lots of people questioned my choice to start a road-trip at 3:30am, but I felt like it was the best idea ever. I haven't been as happy in a long time as I was when I got on the road. There's something really profoundly exhilirating to me about being on an open road with nothing but miles of interstate in front of you. I had a fast car, a loyal dog, loud music, and a giant cup of Mello Yello to keep me company, and I felt GOOD.

I had a fast car because I had to leave the Volvo at home. It's developed quite the oil leak, and the leak is worst while driving, which means the oil has spattered all over the undercarriage of the car. It's covering most of the bottom of the car and has essentially baked on there into a thick paste that's highly flamable. Basically, if I drive it at high speeds for a long amount of time, it could explode into a giant fiery ball of terror. Which, on the one hand, is AWESOME, but on the other hand is a little deadly, so I guess I'm going to have to fix that.

I'm sleepy. I had a really odd night last night, which I will not detail in an attempt to protect the vaguely innocent. But since it's my blog and not your blog I'll just say this: You are a very stupid man. And you should probably work on that. But regardless, I doubt I'll ever try you again.

I think I'll go hunt for the ingredients to make brownies for Cookie of the Week club.

Non-sequiter updates

A guy told me the other night that as long as your headwear and your footwear are clean, you're rockin it. This was a hip-hop kid, and it was said in reference to my comments on his extremely fancy hat. I'm pretty sure he meant that your head/foot accessories have to be "fresh" and not merely "not dirty", but what do I know. I was wearing Crocs and no headwear at all.

I didn't walk or even go to the ceremony, but Friday was graduation day for the graduate students. Barring any big surprises from the Big Orange Screw, I'm officially Lanier, M.A. My master's thesis is the best thing I've ever written, and I'm really proud of it. I need to do something to celebrate, and I'm thinking a small cocktail party in the Sunsphere. Yes?

I've started running for exercise. I had to make sure I still hate running, and I do, but my tiny new boobs make it a lot easier. Phineas, on the other hand, LOVES running. He's faster than me and wants to run for longer than me.

I made my very own Spitzbuben the other day. These are otherwise known as Crack Cookies. I'll post some pictures soon, since I got more preserves to make another batch. Sooo goooood. I'm holding out for Jessica's grandma's recipe, but the one I have is really yummy.

I found out that my ex-boyfriend is delusional. I had made my peace with him simply being an insecure asshole, but it turns out that he sincerely thinks I should drop all academic pretensions and be a housewife. His basis for this reasoning is that I like cooking and crafty projects, and one time I let him help with the most simple part of part of my statistics homework. I never really talked to him about my academic work because he didn't understand it and he would go off on lecturing tangents, and perhaps this gave him the idea that the stuff I did talk to him about, ie: baking, was more important to me. Or maybe he's just a delusional moron who once told me he was smarter than me and that I shouldn't continue grad school to get a PhD because we should start having babies immediately.

It's Mother's Day. A few weeks ago I thought it was Mother's Day because of all the adverts, so I called my mom to wish her a happy day, only to find out that it was weeks away. I'm going home this coming weekend, so maybe I'll make her brunch or something then.

I'm going home for Katie's wedding. I have procured the perfect black dress and new black heels, so I think I'm ready. But I want another cute and summery dress for the rehersal and shower nonsense, so maybe I'll keep shopping...

Work is really weird now because my bartending parter in crime, Mr. Palm, has left me. He got a "real" job as a tour manager for a hip-hop group. Another bartender got suspending for drinking too much while on the clock. So now there's only two real bartenders left. At least I still have my own pet barback. I'll post a blog about him soon.

I'm working on two pieces for publishing right now. They're both pieces of my thesis, and one is dumbed down and made exciting with the intention of publishing it in a women's magazine, and the other is for an academic journal. Yay, publishing!

I'm sad that both of the newspaper vending machines (what the hell are those called, anyway?) in my vacinity are jammed, because I really want a Sunday paper.

Time to work on Erika's present, watch some TV, and figure out what to do with my evening.