Saturday, January 22, 2011


Ummm… yeah. Goals… Goals are good, don’t get me wrong, but…

I’m not saying I’m throwing out the goal. I’m not. I’m not throwing out any of my goals for 2011, of which I currently have three:

  • 1250 pages this year
  • Lose a pound a week before T.E. comes back in July
  • Try to get the phrase "Loose Beans" into common usage, at least in the USA

However, life has recently become really… complicated.

Now here’s the thing: I really hate telling you guys when big, dramatic, bad stuff happens. I don’t like writing about them, and it’s not really what I want this space to be about. I want Unlikely In Love to be about “cool!” and “Wow!” and “crazy!” and “tee hee, snicker snicker, giggle snort (and possibly pee)!” Not “Oh no!” and “horrible!” and “Wail, sob, gnash teeth!” So I’m not going to spend a lot of time explaining HOW things have changed. But they’ve changed, and now they look like this:

1. I’m moving back to Hippyville.
2. In two weeks
3. Because my very cool job blew up on me
4. I don’t THINK it’s because of this blog, but honestly I can’t be sure about that.
5. Yes, that would suck.

I got about 18 pages written in the first week of the goal. I truly think I could have written the extra 7 if life hadn’t gone “Kablooey!”, but given the recent events I’m going to… table the goal. However since I don’t have a job anymore I’m expecting that I’ll have a nice, big chunk of free time to do some catching up once I’m back in Hippyville.

I’m bummed that the job burned me, but I’m not bummed about going home. I’m not bummed about going back to having one life in one place. I’m not bummed about dialing back the crazy levels of stress that this life brought to me. And if I can be one of the very lucky few and get a NEW, hopefully LESS crazy-stressful job pretty quickly this might just be a “win” in the end. Give me the next two weeks to get the big changes made, and then I’ll be back, making crapade out of the crap life has recently dealt me and telling you guys all about it. And who knows – I might actually be back even sooner!

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Not Paying the Dews...

OK, so I already mentioned that there needs to be a plan. There was a time that I would have said I’m a very good planner. However I’ve learned recently that I’m a pretty good planner, but that I lose sight of the OBJECTIVES all too often. So for this plan we need to state again the objective, and you guys need to remind me when I get lost and start aiming for “learn how to speak Latin in French” or “solve for cold fusion.” Not that those would not be cool things to do. Actually, hmmm... maybe I should...


So as I said before, I have a job right now. And rest assured that I recognize it to be a VERY GOOD job! It has many things that I have missed other places, like challenges and opportunities to make an impact and learning new things, not to mention a healthy paycheck and some very cool people to work with. Honestly if my job were a crappy job it would make life easier: my goal would be “get a better job.” Because now I have to solve the fact that I’m not really where I want to be even though I have a really good job!

The question is this: other than having a job, what do I want to do with my life? And the answer is: figure out what I WANT to do with my life. And do it. While still working my very good job. And not losing my mind.

Of all of the options I know of, and know how to do, and know what I like to do, my answer is this: writing. I like to write. I personally think I’m pretty good at writing. (feel free to agree with me! Unless you’re thinking “really? Writing? You? I don’t know, don’t you find your writing pretty pedantic? Pedestrian? Um… lame?” In which case you can feel free to SHUT IT.) I have this fantasy in my head where I get up on a Monday at about 8:30 or 9:00 am. I pull on my slippers, make a cup of coffee and go to work in my office, where I sit down at the computer and create awesome things that people love to read. And someone pays me for these things. And sure, I may work more than 8 hours that day – heck, I could write for hours and hours and HOURS! But since it’s something I love to do and something I take pride in and something… that just sounds COOL to me… I think I’d love this life. So that’s the image I’m chasing. That’s the objective, folks. That’s the goal.

Now, how to get there? Well, as I’ve mentioned I’m too old to “pay my dues.” Because “pay my dues” is really just another way of saying “be totally poor, live in your parent’s basement, eat Ramen and Domino’s Pizza and try to work your way up from the total bottom.” At the age of ‘really, I’m THIS OLD already?” I’m not doing any of those things. Except the last one. But I’m doing that from the comfort of my own apartment, in front of my own computer, drinking my own expensive beverage and eating a frickin’ steak, people! Possibly also fancy fries! (and here you should picture me thumping my chest like King Kong, all he-man like. With fancy fries crushed in my massive, macho mit! Because ILLITERATION IS BOSS!!!)

With these rules in mind I’m going to continue to kick butt at my current good job while setting myself goals to actually try to write. Write a LOT. And not just to you guys, though you know I love you and all. I’m setting myself a goal that for the year 2011 I’m going to write 25 pages each week. I took off this first week of the year (for swooning over my sweetie and then packing up my sweetie and then, this weekend, moping over the lack of my sweetie – you know, the classics) and I’m sure I’ll be totally unproductive the last week of the year, but I’m going to try to write this 25-page amount for 50 weeks this year. That means a total of 1250 pages. That’s a book, people! Heck, that could be a few books depending on how small the font, how big the spacing and how many pages are actually worth reading by the end of the year!

Don’t worry – I’m not kidding myself here. I know that writing 1250 pages does not an author make me. But it DOES show me that I can set a goal for writing and achieve it. And let’s face it: if I can’t do THAT it means that my fantasy of being a writer is only that: fantasy. So that’s the goal, folks: do the writing. Do the work. Do the Dew. (Except no Dew doing. I hate Dew.) I’ll keep you guys posted.

Friday, January 07, 2011

The BIG Question

Is It Worth It?

This night is the part of my new life that I most hate. I put my guy on a plane about 4 hours ago, and now he’s somewhere over Hudson Bay, Canada. By the time his tragically long flight is over he’ll have spent more than 12 hours in the cosmic garbage grinder that is the travel system; he’ll be stiff from sitting in a tiny plane seat for over 9 hours and he’ll be completely exhausted. I’ve asked him to call me just so I can know he’s home, safe and sound, and to hear his voice – even though it will be about 4am for me, I want to hear him because we probably won’t connect again for most of the weekend.

And we won’t be together again until July.

I’m not a crier, as you guys know, but I admit that this day at the end of each of our visits together gets to me. A lot. It starts the evening before, when I start thinking “this is the last time we’ll eat dinner together for months.”, “this is the last time we’ll crime into bed together for months.”, “this is the last time he’ll stick his icy-cold feet on my ass for months.” (ok, some things don’t seem so sad, I admit.) I get blue about two days prior to him leaving and I get ‘great, big, deep breaths’ about a day prior. And the last night we climb into bed together I start getting weepy.

This time around I finally figured out that I should always take off from work the first day after he arrives and the day he leaves. The fact that it took me this many visits to figure it out is one of those things that proves it’s amazing I can tie my shoes. (the bunny goes around the tree, the bunny goes down the hole, the bunny mocks me, mocks me, stupid bunny!... sorry, where were we?) I loved being able to wake up with him this morning, wrap my arms around him, eat breakfast with him, lose yet another couple of games to him. But the pressure of making the most of EVERY SINGLE MINUTE was even worse than previous days. And so were the tears. And at a certain point you just have to ask yourself the question you know your family and friends and all those damned strangers wandering around the airport are asking: Is this really WORTH that many tears?

Hells Yes.

(As the kids are saying these days)

Please don’t misunderstand: this long-distance thing sucks. I feel like a complete cliché as I stand there on my side of the stretchy rope wall, watching him fill white, plastic bins with his stuff and waving at me from further and further distances as goddamned tears slide down my cheeks. Because remember: I’m NOT a crier! NAHHHHHT! You can poke me right in the eye and won’t get your finger even slightly damp. I could watch Field of Dreams and The Notebook back to back, followed by that stupid “Christmas Shoes” song and nary a tear. NARY! So to have a day where I get gulpy because I catch sight of his passport, or sniffly thinking about eating breakfast alone tomorrow… This is so not me it’s like I’ve suddenly got a penis and green eyes. (probably could have left off the thing about green eyes.)

So keep doing this? Really? Are you sure?

There’s no question. Every gulpy moment is more than balanced by the times when big, warm hands massage my head to calm me down; by songs we sing together and movies we quote to each other; by the amazing silver pendant hanging around my neck; by each time he leans down, nuzzles my neck and whispers in my ear three words every person longs to hear, me probably more than most. I don’t need to give you the words – you already know what they are. (no, not those three. No, not those either. Seriously? Those words? OK, now you’re just trying to piss me off…)

I’m sitting on my couch, kitties pinning me down on either side. I’ve been drowning my single-life sorrows in tater tots and Frosted Flakes since I got home from the airport. I’m taking solace in Criminal Minds reruns because “Hey, at least my sweetie isn’t a crazed serial killer!!” (it’s the little things that really matter, right?) I am supposed to be taking down the Christmas tree, on the theory that since I’m already incredibly blue it’s a good time to do other things that make me blue, but my melancholy has sucked up all my initiative. (and besides, it’s not like I’ll be chipper tomorrow. I’ve got an entire weekend to be blue and do depressing things! Sunday I’m gonna check my bank balance and step on the scale! Shudder…) I just checked my iPhone ‘where is your sweetie’s plane NOW?’ app for the 10th time (“if you look out the right side of the plane you’ll see Air Force Island and other totally imaginary places in Canada.”) and I keep doing the math for when he’ll land. When he’ll call.

And all of this crap is totally, TOTALLY worth it for the big, dopey grin this boy gives me during the four or five months a year that we are together. So tomorrow I’m gonna buy a new webcam and headset and get ready for the next many months of online life until July, when T.E. comes back to me. TOTALLY WORTH IT.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

First Step: The PLAN

Remember before when I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up? Ha ha ha ha ha… Good times. Memories – don’tcha love them? Yeah. Love them. Memories and stuff. Ha ha hahaha… (yeah, no I still don’t know. Sigh.)

Here’s the stuff I’ve realized which, at least, bring me just that bitty-bit closer to some kind of answer or plan:

1. I have a job.
2. I pretty much always just have a job. No matter how hard or influential or stressful, etc., a job is a job is a job.
3. My job is stressful. Like “three times this year I wondered if I’d given myself an ulcer” stressful.
4. I am totally up for stress, as long as it’s from something I WANT to do. I’ll take that stress out to dinner! An EXPENSIVE dinner, with candles on the table and a separate wine menu! I’ll babysit that stress’ 17 young, bratty children! On HALLOWEEN! I’ll soak my feet in that stress, and then my head, and then my great, big, stressed-out butt! BRING ON THAT STRESS!
5. However for just a job the stress just stresses me out. About which I can only say: Boo. And possibly also Hiss. But I’m sure about Boo. I stand behind that for sure. Boo.
6. Oh, and also I’m not willing to be poor. About being poor I also say “Boo.” And I currently define “poor” as “I have to decide between a decent dinner and buying a new mop, as I currently have a huge mess on my floor. And also hunger.”

…with these totally groundbreaking and mind blowing and “Wow, she has put a LOT of thought into this!” epiphanies I come to a conclusion: I need to figure out what it is that I really, REALLY want to do. And then start doing that. While still doing what I’m doing now.

In other words, I need to add about 2 hours to each day.

I’m working out the flux capacitor and other sciency-sounding words, as well as waiting for the delivery of my magicy pendant from an old guy in a wizard’s hat, all of which will be the key to turning back or stopping the clock for these 2 hours each day. Once I’m sure what I want to spend those 2 hours doing. There’s a plan! A happy life is right around the corner!