A girl's not a tonic or a pill.

I realized something yesterday evening before the Superbowl, as Jennifer and I worked through a swift miscommunication that unfortunately had less-than-swift backlash. I am living a narcissist's dream - I am dating myself. Sure, it sounds totally great on a purely hypothetical level, cerebrally a perfect solution to the endless "I just don't understand him/her/hir," but let me tell you, it's simply not that easy. Especially because I am not the easiest person to deal with. And two of me? Lordy, look out!

Yesterday started out on a total high note, except for the snow - inch after inch of the wretched substance, and no end in immediate sight. We got up early to try to beat the rush at the laundromat (this sounds ludicrous as I type it, but trust me - when half of the machines in the place don't work, you want to get there when no one's there), but of course that didn't work. And neither did the change machine, so I climbed into Jen's car to find a place to get quarters for a frustrated girl. How I do love a damsel in distress!

And after laundry was finally done, there was delicious brunch at Cap City with pattisimmons, scottsimmons, and fumblefactory, whom I'd never had the pleasure of meeting. His hair is just as amazing in person, I will have you all know. He is lovely. By this time, the roads were a dirty, slushy, disgusting mess, and I was glad that my freshly-washed car (because of course I washed it Saturday, ha ha on me) was on the side of the road covered in white snow (a protectant, indeed!).

Later, my darling girl and I decided to see Chicago, and I didn't want to drive. (No, that's not true, I just didn't want to take my clean car.) But she didn't want to drive and, well, we're the same person, see? So I just did it. So I cleaned all the frozen white protectant off my car and took off down the road. And while in the left turn lane to get into the Lennox, a car blasted by in the left lane oncoming and /nailed/ me with brown slush. All over my car. My white car. We gasped.

And when I pulled into my (preemo, right up front) parking space and looked at my car, I was horrified. And Jennifer came around, stood near my horrifiedness, and giggled. I was /mortified/. Suddenly, the sound of her laughter reiterated how especially UNfunny the whole scenario was. I said, "Wow, I don't even feel like going to the movies anymore." She didn't know what to say, and I was determined to take her to the movies, so we went. (A ha! And she would have done the SAME THING!)

So we get into the theatre, and I shrug off my coat and she shrugs off hers, and we sit there. Plop. Neither of us puts up the armrest between us (which we always do), neither of us reaches for the other's hand (which we always do), neither of us inquires why the other is doing it. Why? Because we both assume the other is upset with us. So we're both trying very hard to not pry and to give the other person space. And we sit, through the /entirety/ of the movie like that. Sulking.

Chicago was amazing, by the way, arguably moreso if I had been in a better mood, and if we'd been snuggly, and if I could have vocalized my amazement at how totally turned on I got by Queen Latifah (who'da thunk? yowza.), and if and if and if... But instead, we crawled back to my car in silence and drove back to my house and it wasn't until we were on the sofa that we even started talking about the situation.

After about 30 minutes, I burst out laughing because I realized that we were both taking turns blaming ourselves and then the other person... for doing the exact same thing. And then it was over.

But we have to go see Chicago again, so we can lift up the armrest, get snuggly, and do it right.

there used to be words

there used to be words
and somewhere beside the words was desire
and when desire would stir, and rise, and wake,
the words would follow

and desire was fed with angst
and desire was fueled by longing
and desire was enticed by the need to prove
and desire was routed through chaos

but chaos moved away, and packed the others, too
and the words were there, true,
but no one was poking, and prodding, and listening
and though we say the words are not for audiences -
we lie

so bring back the chaos, then, but just a touch,
and the longing, too, but not the ache
because i do not want to lose your arms
but i need to find new fuel for the words

Should I stay or should I go?

osuptygal is the greatest! She found this Amy Wynn Pastor icon for me! YAY!

So now that Coworker Ed is leaving in two weeks, I have the opportunity to try to take his job. His job is, in essence, the same as my job, but he doesn't have to drive from shelter to shelter - he's just at my home base shelter. And his hours don't run until 9pm. The part of me that is only concerned about me says, "GO DO THIS NOW."

The part of me that feels guilty about everything is worried about abandoning my other shelter and my transitional housing jobs. The Second Chance stuff isn't as big a deal because Coworker Sandra already has two student assistants. And the men's shelter downtown will soon have an up-and-running student intern, but I still feel guilty. I do re-entry there 4 days a week. The part of me that worries about everyone wonders if I should ask Coworker Shannon and Coworker Jeff before I make a decision.

But to not have to go back and forth, and to stay in one spot and have one job, and to maybe have some better hours? I hope this isn't just a way for Faith Mission to cut a position - to offer me Ed's and eliminate mine, thereby putting a strain on everyone. I think, though, that I'm going to ask for it. It would certainly cut a little of my franticness, although I would miss the people downtown.

And it's almost time for the Big Gay Conference! I can't help but hope that I can use this as an opportunity to network. Maybe there's a Big Gay Job in store for me yet! *crosses fingers*

This song makes me think of my Jennifer. I can't wait to see the Indigo Girls with her next month.