christmas break and all that jazz.

I'm in Los Angeles until January 7. As usual, it's a ridiculously good time, but geez louise: I NEED A NAP. There's something extremely exhausting about this city. I think it might stem from the idea that Los Angeles is filled with endless possibilities. If you want to go to the beach, you go to the beach. If you want to go to the mountains, you go to the mountains. If you want to put on a zebra striped tube top, drink 8 dollar beers and watch a bad reggae band play bad reggae music, you go right ahead. Everything in the world is approximately 3 freeways and 35 minutes away.

I have to admit that I miss living in a place with such limitless potential. I think that having that much accessibility is pretty inspiring. When I'm here, I feel like I can do anything, and by extension, BE anything. But on the flip side (and you know how I love flip sides), being here also reminds me of how tired I was when I lived in L.A. I used to be able to fall asleep anywhere. One of my favorite places to nap used to be in drive-through car washes. I loved the way the water blurred the windows on my car and made it literally impossible to see. I liked how the noise drowned out everything else. I paid a buck fifty every week for at least two years to run my car through a crappy car wash. Those 5 minute naps were totally worth it.

The focus of this city is always on what's going to happen next, and rarely on what's happening in the moment. And something I've realized in the past few years is that I'm pretty fond of moments.

--buelsy (catching some zzz's)

finals week blues.

I went to Hobby Lobby (best described as an arts and crafts explosion) today to buy wrapping paper and ribbon. While I was in line waiting to check out, I overheard a conversation between the checker and the customer in front of me. Now, you'd think that most conversations that occur in places like Hobby Lobby are centered around arts and crafts explosions or who hates who at the sewing circle. This one was different. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it was the most intense conversation I have ever overheard.

The two ladies clearly knew each other from long ago but hadn't seen each other for quite some time. The customer began by telling the checker that she has been diagnosed as terminally ill. It all started with a cough, and now she has decided to spend the rest of her time doing the things she likes doing. She talked a little bit about her children, one who has a prestigious job, the other who is fat. The checker responded with very genuine sympathy and then proceeded to talk about her own children who are both divorced. The way that she said divorced was a little bit heartbreaking. Her entire face fell and her shoulders hunched as she explained that her son's wife had been cheating on him since 2002 and that her daughter's husband left without explanation right after her grandaughter was born.

At this point I had to leave the conversation and go look for more brightly colored ribbon because I had a similar feeling to the time I watched Into the Wild. Everything was a bit too real for comfort.

--buelsy (always here to bring you down!)

once around the track.

For me, blogging is a little bit like exercising. I love both activities. I see them for their one million benefits. But i've also been known to quit. I think the reason that I systematically quit exercising and blogging for three month spurts is because they are hard. Exercise requires physical discipline. Blogging requires mental and emotional discipline. The best blogs provide beautiful prose, outrageous humor, endearing moments and evidence that the blogger is consciously evolving as a person. And let me tell you, honeys, evolving as a person is hard.

Traditionally I'm the sort of person who has a love/hate relationship with things that are difficult. I avoid these activities for a while, generally choosing to watch t.v. or read vampire novels instead. But then eventually, I like to go for it. Point is: I'm going to start blogging again. I need it. And to keep up with this whole exercise/blogging analogy, I might try hitting the elliptical machine too.

MUNDANE NEWS YOU PROBABLY DON'T NEED TO KNOW:
-The semester is almost over.
-I walked through a snowstorm today. It was exhilarating.
-I need to grade approximately 160 papers by Friday.
-I'm going to California on Monday.
-Just read She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb. It was wonderful & important.
-I like using this: & instead of this: and.
-I also like bedtime tea.
-And pie. The idea of pie is nice.

--buelsy (goodnight)

still alive and kicking.

Okay, so it's been a while. More than a while. More than a MONTH. However, in the month since I've posted lots of exciting things have happened. I finished my thesis, I signed a contract to teach during the 2008-09 school year at the University of Northern Iowa, and I went home to visit Simi Valley, California. I've also been in extreme financial ruin during this transition between student world and real world, but hey, we're focusing on the non-devastating things.

I have lots of interesting tid-bits to post, including thoughts about airports, roller coasters, and being mean to strangers. I've been haphazardly keeping track of them in a little green book, and will someday spiff them up and stick them here. Maybe I'll start tomorrow when I leave on a jet plane and head back to the Midwest.

--buelsy (puttin' on her grown up boots)

nothin' wrong with a little filler.

Things have been a bit hectic lately and so I haven't posted anything in a while. Things are going to continue to be hectic at least for the next two weeks, so instead of cooking up new material for all of you sitting on the edges of your seats (self-deprecating smile here), I'm going to post some things I wrote a while back. Starting with this:

adventures at the library, part one.

So I went to the library on Thursday to finish the (very rough) first draft of my entire thesis. I found the perfect corner on the third floor—a corner where if you sit very still the energy efficient lights will turn off and nobody will bother you... well, nobody except for a barefoot guy in a green shirt with a strange habit of pacing the entire length of the library at a surprising frequency. I had been in my perfect corner for about fifteen minutes when I realized I had no Chapstick. This was a problem for two reason: (1) I am addicted to Chapstick, and (2) I am addicted to Chapstick more than ever thanks to a recent and unfortunate pizza burn. I contemplated being hard core and trying to break the addiction for the next six hours. I contemplated repeatedly applying absurd amounts of the berry-colored lipstick that happened to be in my bag (think Ali Lohan). Then I contemplated packing up my stuff, walking back to my office, climbing up six flights of stairs, grabbing the Chapstick, climbing back down six flights of stairs, walking back to library, and unpacking my stuff in the exact same corner. And this, my friends, is exactly what I did.

Moral of the story: Chapstick is to me is like crack to Amy Winehouse. I gotta have it, even if it almost kills me.

--buelsy (addicted and okay with it)

evil is alive and well.

The title of this post may appear to be a bit melodramatic, but I promise you it is not for two reasons: (1) it's in reference to a song on the new Jakob Dylan album which is not remotely melodramatic but instead very fantastic, and (2) my thesis may be evil but I have doubts as to the "alive" and "well" parts.

I stayed up all night the day before my parents came to visit for graduation in May. I was working on my last class final. I was extremely productive, partially cause I was hopped up on Diet Rockstar and partially because I thought that was the last all-my graduate career. Sadly, I was wrong. I'm turning in the first full draft of the thesis tomorrow and I still have a crap load to do. So it's the library for me... at least until they kick me out when they close at the absurdly early hour of eight p.m. (Although I've considered pulling a Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. If you have not read this book you must.)

And then I'm going to take a half hour dinner break in which I eat and watch the new Weeds episode (I tried to watch it last night but conked out like an oldie--but a goodie!). And THEN, i'm going to drink Diet Rockstar, drink of champions, and finish this MFer!

I'd like to say that today is IN FACT that last all-nighter, but optimism has clearly screwed me before.

--buelsy (pugilistic pessimist)

recent life events.

1. I saw the Fish Tank Guy again the other night. He was jumping around his living room making weird arm gestures. Being the savvy spy that I am, I assumed he was playing Nintendo Wii. Maybe even one of those new, super cool Wii Fit games. I was momentarily jealous. But as I passed his porch I caught a glimpse of the TV. He was watching Family Guy.
2. I was eating a microwave pizza the other night while watching Law and Order and had an unfortunate freak accident. A rather large piece of scalding cheese flew off the pizza while I was taking a bit and landed on my lip. It not only hurt but also left a freaky burn mark on my lower lip. This makes my lips look like they are severely chapped. It also kind of makes me look like I have herpes.
   
3. I've been letting my cats go on the porch for a little while each night. They dig it. I heard one of them tell the other that I am the coolest cat mommy around.

--buelsy (does not have herpes)

there's always memory lane.

I took my old iPod to the gym with me tonight. This is the iPod I bought right before I moved to UCLA and engraved with the words, "have a little faith, there's magic in the night." And let me tell you, that iPod has taken me to some magical places. I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of it.

While I was foraging the cross ramp, I found an old playlist titled "Power Up." It reeks of KROQ and the summer of 2005, but in a good way. It's nostalgic, but not the type that makes you feel droopy for the rest of the day. It's intense, but not like Fergie (when I listen to Fergie at the gym I feel so intense that I want to punch things... and people). It's going to be my playlist for the rest of this week. Maybe it should be yours too:

1. "Sugar We're Going Down" -- Fall Out Boy
2. "Move Along" -- The All-American Rejects
3. "Banquet" -- Bloq Party
4. "Helena" -- My Chemical Romance
5. "A Favor House Atlantic" -- Coheed and Cambria
6. "Holiday From Real" -- Jack's Mannequin
7. "Futures" -- Jimmy Eats World

Seven is the magic number.

--buelsy (toughin' it out)

how to save the world.

I'm a firm believer that there is a correct way to put toilet paper on a toilet paper holder. It should look like this:


See how the end of the roll is hanging over the top as opposed to under? THAT is the correct way to dispense toilet paper. Unfortunately, not everybody in Christmas Island is as enlightened as I. Today I went to Cup of Joe for a meeting and used their incredibly-cute bathroom. Within exactly seven seconds I realized that something was gravely wrong. You guessed it. It was the toilet paper. Hanging all backasswards and looking lonely. So I fixed it. You know what they say: good deeds keep karma away. And I hear that chick is a b!tch.

--buelsy (bathroom do-gooder at large)

word on the street.

Thanks to those who commented or called to make sure I was not in fact losing my mind at the time of my last post. I am pleased to say that I am no longer quite as keen on the idea of giving up and hightailing it to Simi, CA. I think I'll stay here and finish my thesis and then throw myself a crazy-ass party instead.

NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH:
I was taking the trash out last night and as I was walking back into the building I noticed that one of my neighbors* down the hall** had his porch*** door open. The guy has a gigantic fish tank that takes up nearly all of one wall. He was putting the tank's cover back on after assumedly feeding the tank inhabitants or fiddling around with the inner-workings. As his hands left the top of the tank one trailed down and remained on the side for a moment. If it's possible to fondle the side of a fish tank, that is exactly what he did. I felt fairly sure that the fish appreciated it. After all, fish need love too.

*I recently moved and never posted about it. Messy Manor is no longer, both literally and figuratively. The new apartment (which some have determined to call The Villa) is extremely tidy.Given the fact that I currently have no job, no school, and a thesis to avoid, I've become bizarrely adept at domestic tasks. Starting over helped too, because let's face it: sometimes apartments just get so messy that you have to move.

**I maintain that I was not spying. Fact of life: If you leave your porch door open people are going to look at your fish tank.

***Porch is a funny word. Say it five times out loud. Funny, right?

ANOTHER NOTE ON DOMESTICITY:
I'm making fish fillets with eda-mommy and double baked sweet potatoes for dinner. I bet you wish YOU were invited.

--buelsy (aquarium-friendly)

an exercise in running away.

So, I think I've reached a low point. Today as I was driving past Panera I decided to fill up my car with gas and drive to California. Because I am not above second guessing rash ideas and am particularly fond of iced green tea, I decided to go to Panera first. While at Panera, Google informed me that it would take 1 day and 2 hours to get away from here. In the RAV, this would equal about 339 dollars worth of gas. 339 dollars and 26 hours of driving would be totally worth it. It's tempting. I could hide in Simi Valley for a few days, or weeks, or months. Maybe even forever.

But contrary to popular belief, I am more mature than that. I am not going to run away again. I am going to stay here and compulsively chew gum, and listen to this and also this. And then I'll keep writing about things that frustrate me. Then I'm going to go night swimming and everything will be okay.

-buelsy (don't wanna get with the program)

note to self.

In case I am ever struck in the head with a blunt object and begin making life choices that are completely contrary to my core beliefs (hey, it's been known to happen), please remind me that I hate, Hate, HATE being in school and that I never want to go back.

--buelsy (some more pages down, some more pages to go)

a little less conversation, a little more action.

MOTIVATION TO BUCKLE DOWN AND FINISH MY FREAKING THESIS

• FIRST AND FOREMOST: California from July 31-August 13
  
• A SUBSET OF THE FIRST AND FOREMOST:
  
• The View of LAX from the Sky
  
• My Parents' House and the People That Live There
  
• Simi Valley: Cafe Valentino, The Mall, The Habit, The Old Target, Trader Joe's, Jamba Juice, Regal Cinema, LG, Everywhere.
  
• Shogun's Sushi, complete with Amazing Food and Horrible Service
• The Beach
• The LA Shopping District
• Westwood People and Places (in particular D+D and Top Shoes)
• UCLA Memories

That's some stellar motivation if you ask me. And you did.

--buelsy (so close, but still kinda far)

april showers bring may... snow bunnies?

It's April 12th, and it's snowing. What the f*(K, Mother Earth? To be honest, I'm actually okay with the snowiness of Christmas Island, because on Wednesday, I'm leaving for Nashville, TN, where weather.com predicts that it will be sunny and warm... with isolated thunder storms. Dammit. I just can't win.

So I went to Kohl's this morning to buy some clothing items for said Nashville trip with a gift card I got for Christmas (saving gift cards for long periods of time is one of my favorite things to do). The store was packed and I stood in line to check out for a good fifteen minutes (in Christmas Island, this is an eternity). The woman in front of me purchased FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS worth of clothing. FIVE-THREE-FIVE! She was with two smallish girls and all the clothing was clearly for them. I couldn't tell if this was a run-of-the-mill purchase or a we-haven't-bought-clothes-in-a-year-and-won't-for-another sort of thing. But either way, Holy Crap(!) If I spent that much on clothing in one shopping situation, I'm pretty sure that my heart would screech to a halt in a mixture of happiness and horror.

I'm eating subway and rocking the Pandora, two things that have historically been indicators that I will get-a-lot-of-crap-done. Which is good because in the next 87 hours i need to: do a bunch of grading, plan my oral comm. class, write an annotated bibliography, write critiques of three articles, do my laundry, run to the store, make nats packs for speechies, pack for nfa, draft at least 25 pages of thesis (I've given up on the original goal of 60 having recognized that not even I, with my above average last minute skills, could pull it off), and if possible get a little sleep. Sounds like quite the party, doesn't it? I'd invite you, but I think it may be a little too hot to handle.

buelsy (party hardy)

dejavu, but not quite as sweet.

It's the middle of the night. I'm in my office, jacked up on caffeine and chewing gum and barbeque soy crips. I'm listening to Tegan and Sara's The Con. It's like last fall all over again. Remember that time, readers? Back when I used to work on my thesis? Little by little, day by day? Just like my dear adviser advised me to? Yes, those were the days. These days, on the other hand, I have to write sixty pages of thesis in one week. Sixty Pages! ONE WEEK! Yes, it's totally insufferable, and yes, it's totally my own *freaking* fault.

My only consolation? The MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Sixth Edition. Is it a sign that you have obsessive compulsive disorder if reading and repeating the rules of ellipses and citing anthologies keep you from scratching your eyeballs out and then banging your head over and over again on your keyboard?

I NEED (and by NEED I mean have been trained by consumerist society to WANT): New Chucks. More coffee. A face implant that puts Chapstick on my lips 24-7. An iPhone. A footrest that is red. A tiny person to live on my desk and dust things. Free iTunes for Life. My left elbow to stop itching. A doppleganger who will write my thesis, defend it and then conveniently cease to exist.

-buelsy (tougher than the rest?)