A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Since hiking is a no-go.

So tonight I have a date with Chris D. I really don't feel any spark with him and I know his feelings about me are getting serious. I need a way to let him know that I really just want to be friends, so I got Brandon to stage a coup with me. I told CD that my bestie will be in town and would he mind if he came along. He said that's fine. Alrighty. So I decided to call Katie and ask her along, too. I'm thinking that if I make it a little group event, he'll see it for what it is; if I wanted one-on-one time with him, I'd take it. I also decided to have a little fun with Katie by calling her at work and disguising my voice.

Katie: We're having a wonderful day at ___ Bank, this is Katie. How may I help you?
Me: I need to verify funds on a check.
Katie: Ok, well I'll give you our merchant verification number.
Me: You do it.
Katie: I'm sorry?
Me: You. Verify. Funds. Not so hard.
Katie: Ma'am, we don't do that at branch level, but merchant verification will gladly help you.
Me: No, you listen to me. I want to know what's in that account and I wanna know now. And you're gonna tell me. You ready for the account number?
Katie: Um...
Me: Take this number down.
Katie: Look, I don't know who you think-
Me: Katie! It's Sarah!
Katie: I hate you.

Haha! Anyway, so Katie's coming. Hope this goes smoothly.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

California Dreamin.

Grandma Charlie has put back on several pounds and is not only walking about, but driving! (Short distances, but still.)

Aunt Linda and Aunt Laura are doing great.

And soon I will be reunited with these, the strongest women I know. In the California sunshine, no less. I cannot effing wait to get sand in my hair.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The new kid in town.

(Texting)

Sarah: Good day at work?
The Pharmacist: Not really. I come back and no one's been promoting synergy. The giant fish has gone all week unf*****.

Yeah, I like him.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Binary Star.

"If{}two stars should really be situated very near each other, and at the same time so far insulated as not to be materially affected by the attractions of neighbouring stars, they will then compose a separate system, and remain united by the bond of their own mutual gravitation towards each other. This should be called a real double star; and any two stars that are thus mutually connected, form the binary sidereal system which we are now to consider."
-Sir William Herschel

Mark double majored in math and physics, but he sure couldn't make a good pot of coffee. His chest hair couldn't decide if it wanted to be there or not. He's one of only two blue-eyed men I've ever been attracted to, and at 20 he was a virgin. I hear he has a child now (not sure about a wife). Undoubtedly, that child has a poster of Einstein in his/her room. I dodged a bullet there; there is a nursery in my future and it will probably house an Einstein poster as well, but hearing about Mark recently served as a reminder that things are often not what they appear to be. I suspect that my most recent intimate lover is ultimately a fraud.

I write in the meantime. I date, flit, orbit. Observe, play, laugh. Work, eat, spin and fall down solo. Get up solo. Sometimes I wake up crying when my mind kills the people I love in my dreams or makes up horrible things about them. Most of the time, I wake up waiting. Waiting to grow up, waiting for things to get better, waiting for some people to leave me alone and one person to stop acting like a schmuck, so we can maybe orbit together. But the time isn't right. As much as I want it, I can't be a good half to anything yet. You have to be a whole star before you can be binary.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Dreaming of storms.

He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says Amen, and Hallelujah- Paul Simon, You Can Call Me Al

My past comes back to haunt me periodically. Usually when other things are troubling me; I hate to be superstitious and think of the old adage that bad things come in three's, but sometimes the old timers are right...in fact, the old timers are rarely wrong.

Another adage that I'd like to latch onto this minute is "Don't borrow trouble." So I'm trying not to. Right now I'm alternating between a worry so deep I can't eat and a resigned relaxation, the knowledge that my worrying will not to a thing to improve any of my current situations. What I do know is that all this will pass. What I can do is pray and take the logical steps to resolve what I can, and what I don't feel like specifically addressing here at this time. What I can say right now is this:

I am ready for spring and summer. I'm so ready for sundresses and tanned skin and cookouts, fishing, camping, sweltering days and iced tea, swimming in a creek in Walnut Grove with my family. I want to lie in the grass and hear lyrics in the trees and breathe in the freedom. I'm not talking about freedom from relationships or from work. Just freedom to bask in a piece of an afternoon and make it my own. Share it if there's someone special enough to share it with, and relish it even without.

Really, I just need some good news. I've had my three pieces of worry, and they're enough. I'm full now, and I need some grace.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Fun with texting.

Megan: Thanks for calling on ur lunch break.
Sarah: Ayuh.
Megan: I feel better.
Megan: If I had a beer I'd tip it in your direction, raise an eyebrow slightly. But that's all.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Everybody's working for the weekend.

So now that that's off my chest (for a minute), I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this weekend. Tonight I'm getting together with Brandon and Brandie, formerly known as Branded. *shudder* What a terrible band name. Like Staind or Hinder. We're supposed to write some songs and just hang. Which means that I'll write some lyrics, not get credit for them, Brandie will strum her guitar, and we will all smoke too much and perhaps sip too much. Not too much for me, though, as I'm getting up at the crack tomorrow morning to get home and finish setting up my living quarters. Ideally I'll be finished by noon or one so I can spend the rest of the day reading on a blanket in the back yard. Then Brandon and his sweetheart are coming over and there will be rejoicing and meat on the grill.

I love my people.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

In which Eve was weak.

Yeah. Despite my moral objections, I can't help it. After a great dinner, great conversation, and a food fight, it's hard to resist some cuddling. And that cuddling inevitably leads to something else we're really good at.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Really?



I mean, how many enchiladas do you need in order to feel full? Three? Five? Eleven? When is the hole filled?

According to Marketdata, Inc., Americans spent $58 billion dollars last year in the diet industry, including diet drinks, weight loss aids, meal replacement supplements, dieting books, etc. Yet we're still collectively obese. I can't figure out why.

Maybe it's because of this weird "not-enough" mentality so many of us carry around. As a recovering bulimic, I have no stones to throw on that one. Even I can't justify stuffing oneself to maximum capacity (and I especially can't justify feasting just to toss back the feast. It's a rather immoral sickness.). Why? Everyone knows that anything you're given on a restaurant plate is double or even triple what the average human actually needs. Why do we feel the need to clean those plates? Maybe because we paid for it and we feel like we have to get our money's worth? That's essentially paying someone to make you fat and uncomfortable. Why can't we say when enough is enough? "I'm satisfied with a third of this; I don't need any more of it." I think there's a countrywide epidemic of fear of loss and it's triggering overconsumption in absolutely everything. We're wealthy. We're well-fed. We have options. So why are we so uneasy? Why would anyone feel the need to go out and eat seven enchiladas when one or two will do the job? What's missing? We're not all athletes. Not many of us are particularly active. Thus, not many of us needs 4,000 calories a day, but that's what a great deal of us takes in. Ridiculous. It's psychological. It's like how children of the Depression grew up to hoard food. My granny does it. I know lots of grannies who keep canned food not only in the kitchen but in closets, sheds, even under the bed. To me, that is understandable. These people actually knew hunger. Not the hunger that comes from being too busy at work to get lunch, but hunger that comes from living on cornbread and not knowing where your next meal is coming from when the cornmeal is all gone and the shopkeeper can't feed his own family, let alone give you credit. I hold nothing against these elderly people who remember that, and they have a right to the "not-enough" mentality. But people my age? Please. We are children of the eighties. The majority of us never missed a meal, yet we're the worst about overconsumption now. We're the ones who will go to On The Border for the endless enchiladas special. We'll eat all those enchiladas (and chips and rice and beans and flan), and we'll wash it down with a 500-calorie margarita. And once we get home, we'll start snacking. And first thing in the morning, we'll head to McDonald's and take out a couple of biscuits and some hashbrowns when a banana or a bowl of oatmeal would have sufficed.

I recently had someone ask me if I was ok, because it seemed I had somewhat lost my appetite: "I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner last night." What did I eat? I had two enchiladas, a taquito with guacamole, rice, and some chips! Enough food to fill up anyone. This is an example of how ridiculously our culture insists on eating, that after taking out all that food, anyone would think there was something wrong with me and that I hadn't eaten enough. It also shows how much I eat at other meals, that someone would find that highly adequate amount of food to be less than what I normally eat. Indeed, the next morning, I ate my weight in biscuits and gravy and breakfast meats. A banana would have sufficed.

I dunno where I'm going with this. Just that I think we're all so very sick inside. I don't know what we're all so afraid of, or why so many of us feel like gorging is the answer, and then turn around and buy treadmills we don't use and pills that make our hearts race. I don't know why some of us will hit every fast food restaurant on the strip and eat until the point of gastric rupture, purge, and repeat. Hmm. Maybe that's why anoretics are so haughty. They're really hungry as hell, but they at least have found a way to fill the hole; by not filling and refilling it with food. Not eating can be as much an activity and obsession as eating.

I do know that no one, no one, no one, needs an endless supply of any food in one night.