Tuesday, July 28, 2009

After the wedding...

Henry's wedding came and went, and I had a fabulous time, despite my quarter-life crisis. ;)

It was a GORGEOUS wedding, and my cousin and his new bride make quite the handsome couple.

I got to see my sister! I miss her terribly. We're flanked by our Uncle John and our Great-Aunt Gertrude.

With my goofy cousin, Andrew.

Parents of the groom.

My folks!

My momma and her two brothers.

My cousin, Holly, Henry's sister.

The happy couple!!

My introspective funk went away [open bar] and my Pops took this photo of me in front of the river.

All around lovely day.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Baby Watch '09, conclusion

D'oh, I am the worst correspondant ever. Let's hope I am never charged with breaking news on any grander of a scale.

There is one more baby in Baltimore! Little Dude Silas. He is basically the cutest thing EVER and I want to bury my head in his wee baby armpit and listen to him gurgle for THE LONGEST TIME.

Happy happy happy days.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Baby Watch '09

Just got home from hanging out at GBMC whilst Nina finishes cooking up her bun wot is in the oven. Rosemary and I have officially dubbed this Baby Watch '09. Going to grab a nap and chill out before going back when she's OMG TWO MINUTES APART FOMG.

Dude. Bizzy and Nina's gonna have themselves a baby. \o/

Monday, July 20, 2009

bile and ire.

Woke up surly yesterday. Well, the clouds ain't parted yet, and I'm still stewing, so let me tell you what Imma do. I'm going home at four. I am letting out my dog and I am going to clean my damn kitchen. Then, I am going to take a damn bath. After that, I am going to make some damn dinner and watch some damn Stargate. And then! Then, I'm going to play some damn City of Heroes. Kicking the crap out of a death head gunner will do loads to improve my damn mood.

And I am not going to answer the damn phone unless it is someone who is extremely pregnant.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Thoughts on Twenty-something Singledom.

My cousin, Henry, is getting married this weekend. If his sister, Holly, marries her boyfriend after him, then we'll be going in birth order of the cousins. First my sister, then Henry, then Holly, and that leaves me before my younger cousins, Andrew [fifteen] and William [ten]. At least I have a few years.

Anyway, this wedding has got me thinking, mostly about being the free agent in a mass of couples. It's not as much of an enviable position as you would think, despite that they are all gracious in sharing their lives with me, and willing to include me in their day-to-day.

I don't have a vast and sprawling group of friends, but it isn't small, and it is certainly varied. And despite the different lives everyone is walking, I still manage to be The Single Friend [or Cousin...]. For everyone. No, really. Even if my friends are not romantically attached to each other, they are still paired off into their own functional units, whether it be with their roommates or neighbors or bff's.

Because I am now coming to be Of An Age where it's the natural way of my peers to pair off and settle down. Now is the time of weddings and babies and christenings. People I went to high-school with have families of their own.

So, I'm often at odds with myself. I savor my independence [such that it is owning a dog] and take great pleasure in answering only to myself. More and more often lately I've been wanting to strike off on my own [again] and find myself a little cabin in the woods that I can set up a forge next to and make metal things and write stories and have chickens running around in the yard. And maybe a goat. I'm flexible on the goat part.

But, I want babies. And an adult to cook for, and someone to be part of my functional unit, and romance and stupid, giddy love. So, where is my piece of the puzzle?

And yet.

And yet, here I am. Thinking. There was an e-mail going around a couple of years ago that talked about the quarter life crisis. Among other things, it highlights the battle of ennui and enthusiasm that we all feel when we're in our twenties. Snapping between wild confidence and crippling anxiety and the constant conflicting questions. What Next? What am I doing with myself? Who cares what I do? What will people think of what I do? I don't want to do anything with myself. I want to change the world. What the hell is wrong with me?

It's exhausting, and it's precisely the reason that I spend as much time as I do in my own head. Why I read constantly, or write this blog.

We don't want to inflict ourselves on the world, but at the same time, we're aching for it.

Or maybe it's just me.


Saturday, July 04, 2009

Fat blog!

I am a fan of the big peoples. I am a big people. So I've been reading this great feed, Notes from the Fatosphere and came across this right-on post, I eat therefor I'm fat.

my favorite quote:

    My point, in a roundabout way, is that we should not have to prove ourselves to be one of the ‘good’ fatties in order to be seen as people. We should not have to divulge our eating and exercise habits to family/friends/strangers/journalists in order to justify our fatness. Whether we happily overeat or happily run marathons, we all deserve respect.


I was sitting at my desk at work one day, which happens to face a busy hallway, wearing my favorite high-waisted sweater, when a woman came right up and asked me if I was pregnant. I stared at her for a moment, trying to process the fact that she just asked a random woman if they were pregnant, then said, "Er, no" and quirked an eyebrow, daring her to keep talking.

And she did! The woman starts to do some obvious mental scrambling and then comes out with, "Oh, you must be like me, then, need to do some runnin'". Oh no she di'int.

To this I threw in the attitude [I do love living in Balmer] and said, "No, I don't think that I do," and turned back to my computer with a roll of my eyes. The woman looked affronted [!] and muttered, "Well, good for you," and turned back to waiting to get on the elevator down. We're on the third floor.

Anyway, yeah. I probably won't ever fit with the worlds idea of a perfect woman. I am autonomous, I am strong, I am capable. I can start a coal-burning forge, make you a spoon out of steel, and weld together a decorative spiral finial, all on my own. I like violent movies with blood and guts, and I play video games.

I am healthy. I am fat. And it's okay.