I'm salaried and in administration. What a change from last week.

My first day went splendidly.

I'm up bright and early. I even painted my nails cobalt blue with silver glitter balls. My nails look like the night sky.

I want to run to someone, But there's nobody around

I still haven't watched Gone With The Wind this weekend. I should get around to that.

Motivation is seriously lacking. I'm catching up on the sleep I've lost over the past 3.5 years and it is glorious. Slowly but surely, I can detect little hints of myself coming back.

I have The Edge Of Forever by Dream Academy running through my head.



I would so love a time machine to take me back to the 80's.



And when we kissed one night
There's a million hearts
Beating in a row
I wish they would go away



Duckie and I would be married.



Polygamy

Monday morning I will officially be working in academia.

Wow. Just, wow. I've been underemployed for so long I thought for sure that degree was a total waste. Between working my last day in a place I've been 3.5 years and dealing with a silly Englishman, it has been an emotional week.

I don't think it's fully going to sink in until I show up for work. It still hasn't sunk in that I won't be seeing all my work mates in a couple of days. Granted I'm working for the same organization but this is still a huge change. It'll be a huge change in my paycheck, a huge change in hours (days!) and a huge increase in prestige.

So the job thing is coming together but the romantic stuff is in shambles. I don't want to be one of those women.

The thing is I really do not want a relationship. I don't have it in me at this time in my life. I wouldn't mind having something extremely casual but that would be the extent of it. I have too much on my plate to be a good partner to anyone else and honestly, I kind of like being alone. I haven't met anyone that I would even consider bringing around my kids as anything more than a friend. I don't think my son is ready to share me yet, anyway. My daughter seems to be ok with the idea of me having a boyfriend as long as she feels like her opinion matters. She's probably more ok with the idea than I am.

The men I meet all want to fall in love, fast and furiously, with some ideal they have created in their pea brains. They don't want to take the time to get to really know someone. It's instant LOVE (lust) and sparks and fireworks and OMGWEAREGOINGTOBETOGETHERFOREVERSHEISMYSOULMATE. I keep people at arm's length until I'm damn good and ready. Love for me is a slow, drawn-out process that sometimes resembles walking through a minefield. If I can go this huge distance with you without getting parts of me blasted off, then I may decide I really am in love with you. I don't fall in love because we both like Lebanese cuisine and agree that politicians suck. Think, boys. Think!

I've often wondered if Big Love doesn't have it right. Maybe consensual polygamy really is good for women. Maybe it's good for men. They can't seem to fully function when they're stuck with just one woman and, frankly, I get sick of anyone I have to see all the time. If I could send him to a sister wife to give me some time to be an individual, well, that sounds pretty awesome.

I don't think I could ever be a Mormon, however. As appealing as some aspects of the church are, I really believe Joseph Smith was a pervert and a con artist. I wish I could buy it. As a general rule I like Mormons and feel their beliefs are quite otimistic and comforting, albiet false. I'm well aware that the modern day LDS church says polygamy in this world is a big no no. Their polygamist roots cannot be denied, however. Many of the practicing polygamists in the United States today are part of some LDS splinter group.

A lot of people seem to think such an arrangement means that all parties are bisexual or somehow sexually deviant. When I ponder polygamy, I envision a scenario exactly like that on Big Love; not a sexual free for all.

Does anyone know if Brad Greenquist likes to have sex with girls?

Anyone?

I didn't go out. I think he tried to manipulate me into going to his house. I'm not 100% sure but I'm staying home anyway. I just really don't need any additional male stupidity this week.

Eat + Sleep + Boosh

When I'm not entertaining kids, writing papers or stressing out over some member of the opposite sex, I sometimes make things.

The Mighty Boosh Barrette

Never do I wear mine that I don't get lots of comments and compliments, even from people who have no idea what they symbolize. I sell them on Etsy and eBay, but, since I want to retain anonymity here I won't be posting the link.

The closer I get to my evening plans, the less excited I become. I'm not even sure why I'm going out. Woe.

Just Like A Spider

For no obvious reason and completely out of the blue, I have a strong urge to watch Gone With The Wind.

Who wouldn't want to be in that picture? I know I do. Rhett's accent is wrong but otherwise everything looks good.

I think I'll watch it later. Maybe I'll force my kids to watch it with me.

Astrology

Maybe I should try a Gemini.

Something A Little Different

I'm going out with someone tonight.

I don't want a real relationship with a real person. I'm pretty sure the person I dream of does not exist. If he does, I doubt he lives on the same continent.

This person wants a relationship. He wants to fall in love. He looks great on paper. I could have, in many ways, the life I think I want if I don't dump him before things get intense.

Who then would I dance to Jamiroquai with? With whom would I spend late nights writing? He speaks like me so there's no accent to try and decipher when he gets schnockered.

I'm a dichotomy. One part church-going suburban mother, the other part giggly subcultured flirt. Sometimes there is a slight overlap that creates confusion.  I can't pick which part to always be anymore than I can choose whether I'm caucasian or "other". I am both and we live in a society that doesn't know what to do with people unless they know which box they're in. When a person can't be boxed, they're left to wander in the elements. Some of them are able to carve out a niche, some aren't. I'm trying so hard to do that.

My ideal mate would be a crossbreed of Vince Noir and Jerry Dandridge. I don't think such a creature exists outside of my mind.

Orange Air

I can't let people get close to me. It isn't allowed.

Except for Noel Fielding. He can get as close as he wants. In fact, the closer the better.

Obvious hint is obvious

When your roommate offers to pick me up and deliver me to you and you live 30 miles away….. THERE’S YOUR FUCKING SIGN!

Brit, you are getting under my skin

Every time I’m with you, I get your scent on me and it drives me bonkers. You know this so I’m not sure why you feel the need to bath in that aftershave I am certain is bottled sex. Does it give you a happy to know that your post-shower ritual has such a powerful effect on me?

You know, you sound like Ozzy Osbourne when you’re drunk. I’ve been wanting to get that off my chest for a while.

Are we on a slow track to Zack and Miri land? I don’t think so. You seem pretty sure you aren’t going to fall in love with me… Would you know it if you did?

You’re such a odd duck. Maddening. Baffling. Sexy in a way I cannot define. Perfectly matched yet a nightmarish pairing all at once. It doesn’t make any sense to me either.

I was perfectly ok with being friends. I was perfectly ok with being friends who sleep together from time to time. Until you grabbed me, put your lips on mine and started to move them around a few days ago, I was perfectly alright with our friendship. Was my drunken rendition of Come On Eileen so moving as to instigate all that? No, I do not think so. The wheels of your mind have been turning for a while. Maybe those wheels are loose.

The weirdness is going to continue until we just fucking fuck already. This is a rare situation where the fucking will eliminate the weirdness instead of create it. You know it. I know it. Your best friend and roommate know it. My friends know it. It is time you poked me with your Gentile English dick so we can know for sure WTF is going on.

Can a Protestant divorcee with two kids join a convent?

This is my place to write about the wacky shenanigans that make me me. No friends, co-workers or even casual acquaintances need apply. That’s what those other social networking sites are for. My identity need not be revealed here. Respect it.

I believe, in this digital age, everyone is entitled to an anonymous home on the interwebs. If you think you know me, well, I hope you’re mistaken. I won’t be holding back. Read at your own peril.