Monday, April 19, 2010

The Saga of D.

This belated blog post is brought to you entirely by the letter "D." D is a pretty lousy letter, and single-handedly put my college admission in jeopardy once upon a time--thanks, Calculus.

D is for dumped, which I got, and the less said about it the better. D is also for dates, which I'm looking forward to going on--even if they're abysmal, I don't care, so long as there is dinner and some drinking and some dancing and some driving, all of which, you'll notice, begin with D. The whole shitshow definitely ranks up there with other complete, life-recalibrating catastrophes (the car wreck, the cousin debacle of last summer, the whole grad school waiting game, basically anything downright shitty and miserable), but, like those other things, it's over. In the meantime, I've been

Drinking. Ha! And Decorating. Girly (read: shameful) as it is, the minute I found out I was single, I decided it was high time I made this apartment someplace I'll enjoy living in for the next few months. And it's pathetic but also amazing what a new set of curtains will do for you, especially when they are your favorite color and bought so cheaply at Ross (aka Heaven) and match the quilt you are so glad your mother sent with you. Beds are tricky things when it comes to break-ups. I recommend everyone get thee to a home decor store when you find yourself sleeping solo. Do not set fire to previous occupants' belongings--just cram them in the closet, far from sight, and sleep spread out and satisfied. Leave the windows open so you can see the blue sky, because this is North Carolina, after all, where the weather is, well, impeccable.

D is also for dog, as in mine, as in the best little fluffer nutter on the face of the earth. I am in love with my dog. I am in love with my dog to an extent that is somewhat bothersome to me. As in, I kissed my dog on the mouth the other day. I probably should not publicize this fact, but it was so bamboozling to me that I did it, then stood up, realized there was puppy snot all over my face, and said aloud, "I just kissed my dog on the mouth." There's something very childish and instinctual in me when it comes to animals--see also: when Matthew was here, there was a little black cat outside this party we were at, and I just grabbed its tail. I don't know why. Also, when we went to the Serpentarium and saw ALL THE SUPER DEADLY SNAKES, a macaw in the foyer squawked at me--so I squawked back, and then threw my hand over my mouth while Matthew insisted I was a baby. Or all the times at Hamilton when I carried stray cats around--and there were more than a few.

D is also for dogs, as in the rest of Wilmington's. Pinto and I go to the dog park maybe every other day because it's an easy way for him to burn off energy and it makes me happier than I can say. In Vienna, I often went and sat in dog parks though I had no dog (incidentally, I used to want to return to Vienna with the boy I fell in love with there; now I want Pinto and I to go to Vienna, to tromp through the Wienerwald and ride the Strassenbahns and walk everywhere together--and yes, I will probably be speaking to him like a person the whole time). Pinto made friends with a Great Dane the other day, and it was about the best thing I'd ever seen.

D is for diet, which I'm still on, and which Pinto's been helping with in his own little way. We walk a couple miles daily, run up and down the stairs, go on adventures to the ocean--stuff that makes my legs sore. I hadn't been to a meeting in about a month what with having visitors and reconfiguring my life and trying to sort out just about everything, so I had no idea what my progress was. And then, holy shit! I've lost 24 pounds since February! Goddamn! I got a ways to go still, but shit! That's Pinto's weight! I lost a dog!

D is for deactivate, which I did with this blog, and which I did with Facebook. It's pretty sad to me that taking an internet hiatus was such a big personal step, but I think it was a smart move. I missed this, though. Didn't miss my incessant facebook stalking, but I think I've got it under control. And, as Karli pointed out, how will people show me funny Youtube videos without Facebook? Noodles on my back, anyone?

D is also for done, as in me and my first year of graduate school. Yikes. What the damn? How did that happen?

D is also for darlings, my friends both here and away. Karlicakes came to see me, and though it was accidentally the worst-timed visit ever (shitty weather, shitty situation), we had a hell of a time. We went on our own pub crawl because you can do that in Wilmington and ate some fine Thai food and went and walked on the beach and she sang at me and then we drank Cheerwine. It was awesome, and it's gonna happen again! Matthew also visited, and I don't think I've laughed that hard in months, maybe years. We subsisted singularly on oysters and beer and a beef jerky baton that he kept poking me in the eye with while I was driving so I threw it out the window. We had an extended discussion about where we ate some soup. We made a lot of goofy faces at one another, and we took Pinto to the beach, and overall we had a damn fine time. And everybody here's been really good to me, especially forgiving when I say I'd like to come over at 1 in the morning and drink some beer, fixing strawberry shortcake and arranging picnics at the lake, basically putting up with me in the midst of all this. It's nicer than I can say, knowing I'm not really alone. Lonely, maybe, but that's familiar, that's a state of mind and not a state of being. These are things I'm learning.

And, last but not least, D is for depressed. Surprise! No, not at all. I think it's been about a decade in the making, but yes, friends, fellows, farmers and freeloaders, I'm certifiably melancholy. This does not mean I'm different; it does not mean I'm in danger. All it means is what I've suspected for a long, long time--that I am expert at making myself unhappy, that I think in patterns that are unhealthy, and that, most importantly, I'm doing something about it. It's a lot like weight loss--I developed a lot of bad habits when it comes to food, and now I'm working to fix them. Likewise, I developed a lot of mentally bad habits, and now I'm acknowledging them and taking steps to fix them. I'm not out the woods yet, nor do I think I ever will be, but at least it's something I know and can speak about openly, instead of hiding it all away and beating myself up about it. But it's also not something I'm going to advertise, haha. That's another aspect of my odd psychology--I arbitrarily want to keep things secret for no reason. Like the fact that I wrote a book, which I did, but you won't hear it from me--and it's not modesty or humility so much as irrational paranoia. Anyway. So here it is on the internet for all to see and behold and make their own conclusions out of. High five!

Pinto is asleep on the floor and the sun is shining and my job starts tomorrow. There's the news from my spot in the world, which I'm slowly starting to appreciate more and more.