Don't Hate Me 'Cause I'm Indie and You're Punk

I don't even try

I don't know what I'm passionate about right now. I feel hollow all the time. I'm never hungry but also never full. In February I decided to stop fighting everything all the time but I guess in my case that just makes me apathetic. Or numb. I can't even tell which.

I've been trying to learn to sit with my feelings more. Or rather, just to actually feel them. To be able to say to myself things like "I am sad that this boy doesn't like me even though it's not logical to be this sad about it" or "even though I completely understand and agree with the reason I'm losing my job it's reasonable to be sad and scared and anxious". Maybe this is the way you feel feelings all the time. This is not the way I feel feelings. Look, there's a reason Spock has always been my favorite. However, you'll be shocked to know I am not a Vulcan, even though I sometimes often act like one. The problem is that by the time I actually let myself feel things I'm feeling this huge reservoir of feeling and I can't identify where each one is coming from.

So I can tell you right now that I am sad and bitter and disillusioned; that I just suspended my OkC account for the eleventybillionth time though in truth I've been on an online dating hiatus for a month now already anyways; that none of the job listings I've read make me want to send in my resume; that I made out with a boy I had no intention of ever making out with again and I honestly don't know how I feel about it, I want to say I feel nothing about it but I don't think you can actually make out and cuddle with somebody that you like and not have feelings about it and I think it's actually that the feelings are too complicated and too many things and so I'm not sitting with those ones yet* and that I'm well aware there is some major grammatical craziness going on in this post but I just don't give a fuck.

But I can also tell you I've had moments of peace and serenity lately. That walking around in Central Park with the sun on your skin and new friend is happiness. That nighttime rambles with a flask size bottle of whiskey and friend you haven't seen in a while are kind of great even if they unexpectedly kiss you later. That I do have one single job interview lined up and it looks perfect for me. That I spent yesterday at my pastry cook's friend's home out in Fresh Meadows and got to hang out with her siblings and large friend group and remember what it feels like to be part of something stable and solid. That I have a week packed full of social activities with other BiSC goers who are fast becoming my close friends.

I can tell you that I've recently realized that I'm angry at myself for letting go of and being less vocal about things I care about to make myself more palatable or to fit into groups better. That I've taken my philosophy of "pick and choose your battles" a little too far. Hi, I'm Alana and I am a feminist and I probably don't think any of your sexist/homophobic/racist jokes are funny and yeah, I'm generally ludicrously PC and I'm ok with that. JUST SO WE'RE CLEAR.

So maybe it's not that there isn't anything going on. Maybe it's that there's too much going on. Too much swirling around in my head for me to sort through it and feel any of it. Today I decided I was just going to fake it until I make it. I cleaned my room, I did some yoga, I ate an entire pineapple and also quinoa, poached chicken, black beans and avocados. Fine... also an entire bag of cadbury mini eggs.

Baby steps back to caring people, baby steps.

*This is how I feel: I feel sad and a little angry because it was nice and it was comfortable and making out and a cuddle buddy were exactly what I needed this week and it wasn't expected so it was a nice ego boost but it wasn't with somebody with whom I am actually ok with casually making out and cuddling. So, I'm sad that it's not something I get to do in a non-casual way and a little angry with both of us for doing it. And maybe a little angry at myself for not being over him even though I said earlier it was ok to be sad. God I hate feelings. THEY DON'T EVEN MAKE SENSE A LITTLE BIT, CAN I PLEASE BE A VULCAN NOW?

Bits & Pieces (the third)

I mean, THIS WEEK, y'all, this week. Or two weeks? I don't even know. I don't even know where to start. This is going to be a little brain dump-y. Ok, a lot brain dump-y. (read: hilarious/ridiculous/rambling)

I didn't finish Scintilla because I had a carpal tunnel flare up, probably from Scintilla. What I learned from Scintilla: I actually, physically cannot write every day. So there's that. That's pretty shitty. I mean, I probably could if I didn't get paid to squeeze piping bags and shape tiny pasta but I do, so writing every day is out. And no, I couldn't really hold a pen by the end of the day either. With a break from writing and "sleeping" with a wrist brace for a few days, I seem to be doing ok. This makes me really happy because a) I can stop sleeping with the motherfucking wrist brace because sleeping with a wrist brace is more like "wake up every three hours and groggily wonder why the fuck you have this uncomfortable torture device on your wrist" b) I was freaking out because I don't have health insurance and I'm ok with paying the $100 for an urgent care appointment if it's for getting antibiotics or some shit, but carpal tunnel isn't really a "here take this things and it's fixed" sort of problem and I have no money for tests or physical therapy or, god forbid, surgery and the freaking out probably didn't help with the wrist brace induced insomnia and c) now I can write again.

And I need to write again so that I can tell you about how I haven't slept longer than three hours in one stretch EVEN WHEN I DRUGGED MYSELF for like two weeks and I am really really glad I finally have two days off IN A ROW tomorrow and Monday.

Also, I need to talk about how boys are confusing.

I suffer from chronic bitch face, my mouth naturally turns down when my face is relaxed, while this doesn't seem to really bother other women, it means I get a lot of those annoying commands from men to smile. It also seems to mean that men either think I'm a bitch, or if they've gotten me to smile, that I'm flirting with them. I either apparently have "bitchface" or "flirtface" on because apparently I unintentionally flirt A LOT when I think I'm just making conversation. (Sidenote: Yes, I am also a flirt, but when I'm intentionally flirting it's usually pretty obvious, there's a lot of smirking and eyebrow raises and taking advantage of my shortness) And then I'm too nice and I give people my number EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T THINK WE WERE FLIRTING and then I feel awful but most of the time this isn't too much of a problem because I can just be that awful girl that ignores your calls. However, it is a problem when my drunken coworker kisses me and I didn't even see it coming a little bit.

Drunken coworker.

Kissed me.

Not the one I slept with forever ago when I wasn't working there. A new one. Like, not just new to kissing me, but new to working there. Oh, and did I mention he has a girlfriend? And I've barely every spoken to him? Except for making polite getting to know you conversation at the other sous chef's going away party, I'd pretty much never said anything other than "Hey, how are you? Which breads are you low on?".

But we left the party at the same time and we were waiting for the train and he kissed me and WHAT? So I told him it was a bad idea and then he said it was a good idea and then he looked me straight in the eyes and told me I was beautiful and I was so caught off guard (see also: drunk) that I didn't dodge a second kiss. And then he fell over, taking me with him. And then he vomited.

So here I am, in the train station, with a guy I've known two weeks and have had maybe a total of thirty minutes worth of conversation with who is falling over, vomiting, black out drunk. Sober me realizes he might've hit his head when we fell and that maybe I should've taken him to a hospital. Drunk me went into crisis mode and decided to get him in a cab and get him home.

He's a foot taller than me and does not have a small build. I have a bruise over half my right ring finger from the pressure of the claddaugh I wear from trying to pull him up by his hands. I succeed in getting him up and out of the train station. With much effort I get his address out of him and get us into a cab. Not thinking about the fact that his address could be construed as Brooklyn or Manhattan and assuming that the cabbie would stay IN THE BOROUGH WE WERE IN if I didn't specify, I focused on making sure new coworker was alive and ok and not on the fact that OH HEY WE'RE IN MANHATTAN NOW, also please pull over because new coworker needs to throw up more. So then I had to go back to Brooklyn. Most expensive cab ride ever. Fuck my life. But, I mean, what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

We finally get back to his house and the effing effity eff keys keep sticking in the lock and it's freezing and it's 3am and it takes like twenty minutes of us passing the keys back and forth to each other to get in the god damn house where we proceed to go upstairs to his bedroom and then I go to the bathroom only to find he's disappeared while I was peeing. Fuck. I find him downstairs in the other bathroom sitting on the toilet with his head in the sink. I mean, hey, I usually prefer to use the toilet for vomiting and the floor for sitting on, but at least this way he can't choke on his own vomit in his sleep. He vaguely wakes up, throws up some more. I try to force some water into him, he doesn't keep it down. I consider sleeping in the bathtub because I am a crazy person that thinks that somehow by sleeping next to a black out drunk person I'll keep them from injuring themselves. I try to pull him up and get him upstairs. No luck. Finally, I give up and let him fall asleep, head in the sink. I go up to his room, curl up on the bed, completely clothed, jacket still on because it's freezing and set an alarm for twenty minutes to go check on him. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Eventually he makes it into bed.

And that, was how this week started. I left before he woke up. I know he knows I got him home because I overheard him telling my other coworkers that he blacked out and I got him home but I have no idea what else he remembers.

So I'm pretty much just pretending none of it ever happened and he hasn't said anything about any of it to me (either the kissing or the me getting him home) but he has been really friendly and look, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION? Because I'm at work, I have a professional relationship with him. I barely know him. I don't want to kiss him. But I spent multiple hours wiping vomit off his face and I've slept in his bed so it's weird. It's really fucking weird. I don't know what to do, so I'll probably just keep pretending nothing ever happened except it makes me kind of feel like a bitch to be like "hey, I've seen you crazy vulnerable and in need of help but now I'm acting like I barely know you". But I barely know him.

So anyways, apparently I have no idea how to read men because I really didn't think we were flirting but he really was determined to kiss me. Also, he was really drunk so I'm assuming it has no bearing on how sober him feels about kissing me. At least I'm hoping that's true.

Boys Are Confusing Part Two:

This past Saturday I think I almost got into my first fight with Trouble. (Pro Tip: You're not supposed to get in fights with somebody with whom you're just sleeping and have no emotional involvement, because I think that's a sign of emotional involvement. Oops.) We were in a cab and he mentioned how his new subletter was a really great guy and HE SAID "not like my other roommate" so I said "who hates me?". He again clarified that his roommate hates everyone and I again stated that I didn't really care if his roommate hates me because he was kind of a jerk.

"Really? Because he's one of my really good friends, y'know we grew up together, so his opinion really matters to me"

And then I changed the subject because a) never try to reason with drunk people especially if you are also drunk and b) why does it matter what his best friend thinks of me if we're not dating?! What?

We are talking about a guy here who once pointed to the ring on my finger and said "Are you engaged? I mean, not that it would matter if you were, I don't believe in the whole marriage thing". I thought we were firmly in this is not a relationship land, not ambiguous relationship land. Ambiguous relationship land is my actual least favorite.

Why am I meeting his best friend?

Why does his best friend's opinion matter?

Why are we seeing each other (slightly) more often?

And why is he doing cute things like pushing my hair out of my eyes and telling me it's a good to see me?

And I AM A GIRL AND I NEED TO ANALYZE ALL THESE THINGS TO DEATH BECAUSE I HAVE ALL THESE FEEEEEEEEELINGS.

Unrelated to all these things, I worked 13 hours today even though it's the day my pastry cook came back from being on vacation. I don't know either. Also I had potato chips for dinner even though I'm starting a juice cleanse on Monday. The world has been muffled all week. If you understand that statement, I am glad for the company, though also sorry. If you don't, I can't explain it. My room is a mess. I misread my DIGITAL scale all week and thought I had gained back five pounds instead of losing five pounds. I will clean my room tomorrow and I will pay to have somebody else do my laundry and I will have dinner with my family and I will start drinking all the juice on Monday and life will come back in focus again. I think. I think that's how it works.

But now, it's time to go the fuck to sleep.

Obligatory Thanksgiving Post

So as you may or may not know, Thanksgiving isn't really my favorite holiday. It's probably one of my least favorites. Or my least favorite. I don't like turkey or stuffing or cranberry sauce, if my yams are marshmallow free that is 100% ok and I basically just eat mashed potatos, salad and pumpkin pie. On the plus side, I really do love mashed potatos and pumpkin pie. They're both probably in my top ten favorite foods. Also my grandma usually makes a ham because I'm a picky brat and because there are 25ish people so it's not like just a turkey is enough anyways. Anyways, Thanksgiving is full of food I don't really like, usually help cook and ALL OF THE HECTIC. Control freak, chef me, would have lists and timelines and so much stuff prepped but that is not the way my grandma likes to do things. So dinner is usually about 2 to 3 hours later than scheduled which means Thanksgiving dinner is at normal dinner time and by that time I've not eaten because she keeps saying "it's almost ready" and I don't know if you've ever been around me when I've gone that long without eating or spent that much time in an inefficient kitchen, but I'm generally ready to hulk smash your face.

So I'm basically the Thanksgiving grinch.

I REALLY love Christmas and Channukah though. Presents and trees and ice skating and sparkles and latkes! Wee! (Just don't make me listen to holiday music for the entire month. Please)

So in an effort to not be the Thanksgiving grinch, here's an obligatory things I'm thankful for post:

1. That I don't have to spend Thanksgiving with my family this year, because I am in no emotional state to handle it.
2. That my family is wonderful and sends me things like cards with dancing turkeys, turkey candles, a Ruth Reichl book, halloween goodies and coolers of bacon.
3. That my mama is getting married in January because she has lived a life (as they say) and deserves happiness. Also because she's getting married in Vegas by Elvis and I get to go both home and to Vegas in January. Win.
4. Technology that allows me to communicate with friends in California when it's the middle of the night here but not there and everybody here is asleep and I am sad and lonely.
5. $5 yoga
6. That I may not be bringing in the stacks of cash but that my income easily covers the necessities of a roof over my head, food to eat and paying off that pesky student loan debt. Also that it allows me to do/buy the things I want (within reason, I mean, no, it won't let me buy all of the plane tickets to Paris and twenty million Louboutins, but all of the cardigans and croissants is still pretty acceptable)
7. That I can see the Manhattan skyline from my roof.
8. That since I'm in New York for the holidays this year I get to do Jewish Christmas. Any excuse to eat Dim Sum is something to be thankful for in my book.
9. Outdoor ice skating. It makes me really happy. It doesn't really exist in California. Do you like to go ice skating? PLEASE LETS BE FRIENDS. I really like ice skating. Like if you ever want to see me get all giddy and smiley instead of tough and sarcastic, let's go ice skating. Wait, I think I just decided what I'm making everyone do for my birthday this year...
10. Only working four days this week.
11. My new hoodie dress which will be prefect for days when I want to be lazy and cozy and warm but still look cute. (PS, there's still a $25 for $50 0r $50 for $100 American Apparel groupon going on, I might even buy another because I might just need that dress in every color for maximum laziness)

That's all for now.

Also pumpkin pie.

And bourbon.

And making a bourbon pumpkin pie. Possibly with pecans. Think about it.

Mama said there'll be days like this

Here's the things about compromising, it kind of becomes a tricky business. If you're not careful, it starts to look an awful lot like settling. Compromise is more about opportunity cost. It's about a conscious choice. Settling, I think settling is a little more like giving up.

But it's hard, when you're not happy, because settling for less than what you really want seems better than nothing at all. I'm starting to be pretty sure that's just depression being a lying bastard again though.

There were these five minutes, right, where I was just like "fuck this, it's drunken floozy time," because some human contact, some affection, I mean, it's better than none right? Mostly I thought this because I had the opportunity. A friend of a friend. He's cute and charming and funny and says things like "you have eyes the color of a country sky," which is both the most ridiculous thing anyone has half seriously said to me and it turns out kind of works on me as a line, at least if it's 3am and I've been drinking since 10:30, but then, most things do at that point.

(Side Note: It might also have to do with the person saying it, the other night a man asked if anyone had told me how beautiful I was tonight. Classic line that would've been amusing from a young guy but not from a pudgy fourty year old who later tried to put his arm around me. EVEN AT 4AM NOT OK)

Our first actual date was two days after meeting. And all the follow through and planning was him. That, plus his willingness to go on a date at 11:30pm on a Thursday after I got off work gave me some pretty high hopes. And I thought "No, this guy isn't what I really want, but I don't think I can have what I really want so maybe it's good enough and maybe I'll change my mind". I also thought "this guy is cute and charming and clearly knows it, he's going to be trouble".

I was right. After that first date... He initiates plans, he reschedules plans. He initiates plans, he reschedules plans. We're currently on round 3 of rescheduling. I don't initiate at all because guess what I seemed to have finally learned... Being jerked around? NOT ACTUALLY BETTER THAN NOTHING and DEFINITELY not better than getting some form of what you actually want. In case I had somehow forgotten this, I'm pretty sure there's basically about a year worth of blog posts to remind me that I used to be the kind of girl that put up with that bullshit, but I didn't even need to read them to know I was miserable then and I'm really not that girl anymore.

I get that guys that ask if it's "hard to walk around with such gorgeous eyes all the time" are not the guys that are looking to take somebody home to mom. That's fine. I mostly just wanted him to be a distraction from my endless work, home, sleep, never get to see friends cycle and maybe, maybe to get me over that gigantic crush that's been lingering on since, y'know, JULY. But instead I'm now all "OH MY GOD THIS WAS THE WORST IDEA EVER I LIKE THAT OTHER GUY SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU AND YOU ARE A SUPER GIGANTIC JERKFACE". Also, yes, obviously this guy has managed to hit on one of my BIGGEST pet peeves and it's not like he knew that, which was fine the first time. The third time? That's just sending the message you're just not that into me and I am not that into you, so maybe stop trying to make plans with me. Right?

So this is the one where I learn that:

a) Even though sometimes I feel like I'm writing posts I've already written a million times before, at least in some aspects, I've changed and respect myself a little more.

b) Settling? Not worth it. And if I'm still comparing, I'm still settling. Lesson learned. Hopefully.

 

A reminder to practice non attachment or hyper vigilance, I'm not sure which.

So Monday (which is my Sunday) was kind of just an all around good day, a "if this isn't nice, I don't know what is" sort of day (to borrow a phrase from Mr. Vonnegut). The kind of day that makes you think, "if this is how my weeks going to go, I'm fucking golden, bitches". There was good hanging out time, there was good finding the perfect practical black purse that could also be dressed up and was on crazy sale time (I actually did not own a black purse before yesterday, crazy right?), there was buying a really cute iPhone cover time and there was good eating leftover Chinese food time.

Have I made the point that Monday was full of win yet? FULL OF MOTHERFUCKING WIN.

So obviously, the universe was like "hey, that's a little too much being satisfied with life for you" and decided that maybe it would be fun if this morning, while I was on the train to work, some asshole ran into the train, grabbed my phone from my hands and ran back out before I could even react. Yes, I'm that idiot on the train at 3:30am with their phone out. Also, so is everyone else on the train. All fucking four of them. I was just closest to the door. Or maybe because my phone was obviously the prettiest with its brand new adorable polka dot case. Yeah. I shouldn't have bought the case, that was clearly just tempting fate. Damn you polk dots and your siren call.

I suppose as far as having something stolen from you, it was fairly innocuous. No being threatened bodily harm or anything. However, I'm kind of nervous every morning on the way to work because it's 3:30am and I'm 5'2" and female and that doesn't really lead to me feeling particularly safe, so the phone thing, it kind of pushed me over the edge. Walking over the bridge, a bicyclist whistled at me, I'm pretty sure in a "I'm going to pass you" kind of way but it sounded like a catcall and I immediately felt my body go straight into flight mode before I turned around and saw it was just some harmless hipster dude on a bike. I spent the rest of the walk to work going into my ProAct training. How would group home worker Alana deal with a crisis situation? Slow breathes. Unclench my fists. Full on panic attack averted.

My hands were shaking the entire morning. Not the best for baking. When my boss came to pick up the pastry I was so frazzled I barely said two words to her, not thinking about the fact that the place I keep the menu for the week is in my email, which requires me having my phone. Of course I go to figure out my prep for the day and realize I have no idea and more importantly I'm totally freaked out that I haven't yet stopped service on my phone and reported it missing (there's no phone or computer at work, it's a production kitchen) so I went all the way back home dealt with that shit and then went back to work.

So far in this story, Tuesday is not full of win. In fact, I think it's safe to say, Tuesday is full of fail. Really full of it.

Luckily, I'm not really adult and am still on a family plan. Also luckily, I set up all of my grandparents' online accounts for frickin everything, so I went online and saw that all of the phone lines that were not mine were available for an upgrade and emailed my grandma and got permission to use one of them to make it so I could actually buy a new phone.

I headed over to my uncle's to pick up an old phone to activate in case for some reason I couldn't walk out of the store with a replacement iPhone and we went on a journey to AT&T where I had to add myself as an authorized account user using my magical I set up everything online skills before the guy would let me make account decisions, which was kind of hilarious. No, I can't sell you a phone, but you can change who the authorized users are online if you have access...

And then my uncle bought my phone.

Because my family is awesome.

Grandma's upgrade + uncle's credit card means I went less than 24 hours without an iPhone.

So while, I can't say Tuesday isn't still primarily full of fail, it's definitely got some win to it.

Anxious about getting on the train in the morning though. Attempt at sleeping didn't work out so well. Obviously.

I want snuggles.

New York, WTF?

Or, That time I went to the grocery store and it made me want to cry.

If you've ever read my food blog, or talked to me for more than five minute, you know that I'm obsessive about what I eat. I don't mean I count calories or eat super healthy or diet in any way. I very actively do not do those things. What I do do is read labels. Not for the nutrition information, but for the list of ingredients that better be pretty damn short and, sometimes even more importantly, to find out where things are from. I eat local and I eat seasonally. I don't mean I prefer to eat local, sustainable, organic, etc when I can afford it. I mean I make myself afford it. If I can't afford to buy non factory farmed meat, then I just go veg until I can. When I didn't have time or energy to go to the Farmers' Market when I was working graveyards, I found a way to have a CSA box delivered.

I knew moving from California would mean giving up some things in the way of food quality and variety, especially produce (this may be a city for foodies restaurantwise, but not for home cooks) but I don't think I quite realized how much more effort it would take to eat local. Even the produce at the organic market made Safeway look like a gourmet grocer and the produce at the regular grocery store...

Sure, I don't buy tomatoes in February anyways, but note: those are HOT HOUSE tomatoes. There is no reason for hot house tomatoes to be green. Do people realize that there is no way these taste like what a tomato is supposed to taste like?

Don't even get me started on the dairy. I couldn't even find dairy or eggs that actually came from New York. The organic whole milk I bought has the consistancy of 1% and I couldn't even bring myself to buy eggs from another state. I shudder to think what those yolks must look like.

I did buy some fresh bread from a bakery, so at least there's that. I am now going to eat the whole loaf with nutella and butter from far away while drinking a bottle of California wine and sobbing in the corner.

Or I'm going to find out when and where the Farmers' Markets are.

Oh, and what did I find that was organic at the grocery store?

From left to right, those things come from: Napa, Santa Cruz and Petaluma. So I guess I can at least have the comfort of eating food from home while I figure out where the good food is hidden?

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

If you know me, you know that despite my strong, absolute morals, I kind of hate confrontation but you hopefully also know that I do my best to walk what I talk and live my life in line with those morals. Today when I came into work one of my coworkers let me know that he thought my boss wouldn't be paying the teahouse staff I was training to bake while they were working with me. This was then confirmed. I'd like to add that when I started working he required employees to clock out for then ten minute breaks, something you can sued and given a hefty fine for. He also does not pay time and mileage when employees work outside of the teahouse and are required to drive their own vehicles to transport equipment and product, such as to Farmers' Markets.  So even though I'm fairly certain my boss cannot have anything nice to say back to me about this and that I'm possibly about to enter into an argument/negotiation when all I really want is to say is "I'm walking off the job, I'm not coming back, don't call" I am sending my boss this email.

Dear *****,

I am not comfortable training people that are not getting paid for their time working with me. Time and again I have chosen to work for small businesses though I have the training and capacity to work for larger corporations because I believe strongly in local economies, just and equitable treatment of employees and strict adherence to CA and national labor codes. I find the expectation of employees to come in and do training on their own time, which you could not do if you were hiring a new baker, to show a complete lack of respect for my job and knowledge, for your workers and for the law. Though it seems incredibly unprofessional to give less than two weeks notice, I will not work for an employer that treats their employees in such a way. Expecting labor to go unpaid is simply unacceptable to me regardless of whatever agreements other employees may be willing to make due to inexperience or lack of knowledge.

Please accept this as notice of my leaving my employment at Infusions Teahouse, effective immediately. Keys to the Tierra Vegetable Kitchen and Infusions Teahouse will be left at Tierra Vegetables when I come to pick up my cookbooks/notebooks, no later than May 15th, 2010. A printed and signed copy of this document and temperatures and cooking methods for all caramels will be dropped off as well.

I'm sorry if this seems harsh or unjust to you, but you have crossed, what to me, is a moral boundary. I have struggled with how to convey this to you, but I have no problem drawing a line in the sand.

Sincerely,
Alana ********

Maybe this seems unreasonable to you, my insistence on protecting the rights of middle class young women (because there is only one man other than my boss working at the teahouse) working in an environment that clearly caters to the liberal bourgeouisie of this county when I have driven by migrant workers in the vineyards working under probably far more grueling conditions on a regular basis. All I can say is it's been a long journey learning I can't fight every battle, that I can't singlehandedly fix the world but this is a battle I can fight.

This is why I've found foodservice less than fulfilling though I love to bake, create and train, I do not know how to live a life if it is not lived in service. I'm just not wired that way. Things like this happen.

My arm is being eaten by a mystery bug bite, I better get some god damn super powers

I know, I know, you've been reading my tweets and you're just like "chill out Alana, it's just a bug bite, stop being such a crazy drama queen". But seriously, look at this.

The super faint line is where it had spread to after 1.5 hours, the darker line is after a total of three hours from time of bite. It also goes around the side and onto the back of my arm a little bit.

Remember how I had a kidney infection last month that could've potentially lead to blood poisoning and hospitalization? I feel like a serious insect bite could do the same thing. So basically at this point I'm convinced that I need to become somehow poisoned and hospitalized to complete an important karmic cycle. Really the only explanation right? Maybe I'll try to accomplish this by continuing to take Benadryl and then drinking alcohol while in Vegas, thereby unintentionally roofy-ing myself.

Win.

A woman wants her cowboy like he wants his rodeo

You're probably thinking, "Really, we're done with the boy, aren't we done with country music?" but alas, no, because there's still so much "what the fuck were you thinking?" followed by "oh, wait, I see why you were suckered in" followed by me still living in the country which means that I drive around in my car yell-singing "I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive". (Yes, I just admitted to listening to a Taylor Swift song all the way through, please judge me, I would, the alien that sometimes controls my actions even does) Because I do hate that stupid old pickup truck he never let me drive, seriously, I hated the issue of whether or not I was allowed to drive it. This is never something I thought would come up in my dating life. I really wouldn't care except that he offered me his BMW to drive home one night when I wanted to head in before him (who lets someone drive their bimmer before their truck?) AND he had seen me drive the same exact truck (albeit older and belonging to my grandpa) on many occasions and would comment on how sexy he thought it was. Stupid country boy machismo. Lame sauce.

Back on track, I don't know if I actually ever stated this a year ago in my blog, but my plan after breaking up with Jacob was to remain single for a while. I hear this is the reasonable thing to do if, a) you're ending a really long term relationship and b) you've spent more of your life in relationships than out of them and you're only 24 (or, at the time, 23).

There was no plan when I broke up with the boy, because we hadn't really been dating. I started the whole online dating plan in the period when we were still occasionally sleeping with each other and he was sleeping with other people because I had conversations with five people in two days in which they recommended online dating and Ms. Mae told me she thought the only reason I kept sleeping with the boy was because I was afraid that nothing better was ever going to come around. So I figured I might as well give it a go. Oddly, I'm really happy that I didn't go on any dates before telling the boy I had no interest in being friends or even talking to him anytime in the near future. I proved to myself that I could take that risk of not having anyone other than my incredibly loving and supportive friends and family and that I respected myself enough to not let the boy treat me like shit anymore.

(You might be asking why a woman of twenty four who has spent more time in relationships than out would ever be afraid of not finding someone and it would probably be a reasonable question. I don't know.  I guess I'm just insecure and human like that.)

This time 'round I feel the exact same way in a not at all sort of way. I realized as I was looking through OkC profiles and finding dealbreakers I didn't even know existed (Did you know there are still people that think Dan Brown is a legitimately good author?) like using commas instead of periods for ellipses (I think, why else would you put three commas at the end of every sentence?) that maybe I don't actually want to be in a relationship. I mean, I do. I want someone to bring me that giant bowl of mashed potatoes. But I only want it if it's amazing. I'd rather take the time to take a deep breath and figure out what the hell it is I want before I accidentally go on a date with somebody I've thought was a douchebag since about 8th grade and have the emotional rollercoaster ride of my life for the next ten months because it turns out, he is still a douchebag.

So let's figure it out by breaking it down; every other boy mentioned in this blog vs. the boy:

-Jacob: This would be my high school sweetheart. He's still one of my best friends; we watch project runway, look at cardigans and talk about video games. If I has to suddenly face some sort of major life crisis/event he's most likely the person I'm going to call. He is probably the reason music is such a big part of my life. His college major has changed from structural engineering (wait, or was it civil first?) to electrical engineering to architecture to, finally , math. I would not describe him as manly, but he can wire houses and use power tools, so that's something. An all around very nice, nerdy, well dressed (though it's taken some effort to find clothes to fit his 6'6" frame) guy. This is not at all relevant, but he has a Great Dane puppy named Charles that is the cutest thing ever and can probably already fit my whole head in his mouth.

-Just My Type Boy/The Boy's Best Friend: One of my best male friends growing up. He had a crush on me from sometime in middle school until possibly sometime in the past year, or now, I don't know. I've had crushes on him off and on that whole time. We talk about girls being stupid, video games, traveling and watch really bad movies (Like Conan the Barbarian). We've jokingly propositioned each other so many times that I'm fairly certain we've finally ended up in each other's friend zones. He was a biology major with a math minor. Despite being a seemingly oblivious sort of guy, he always know what to say to cheer me up; whether it be telling me I'm amazing or joining in on the self deprecation. I hear he can be a bit of an ass to date. He climbs a lot of rocks, so he looks pretty muscular and manly until he opens his mouth and you realize he's mostly a pretty nice, somewhat awkward, nerdy guy. He also has an adorable puppy, her name is Claudia.

-Charlie Trouble: In case you've somehow missed the me making out pantless in a bar posts, this would be the boy who I may have crushed on, impulsively slept with and broken the bed of while in New York. He might've announced to a bar that I was his future girlfriend and just didn't know it yet and suggested proposal as a method to keep me in New York. We were both inebriated for one of those statements and neither of us were for the other; I'll let you guess which. I feel like it would be a bit silly to write out a whole bit when I've just written about him. Let's just say one of his jackets has a WoW patch, he has a LotR tattoo, I told him I would marry him if he built me the Enterprise... I think you can see where this is going...

But if you want me to spell it out for you: I am a sucker for nerdy boys.

For serious.

(If I ever start a dating only blog I'm pretty sure it's going to have to be titled "Let's talk math baby, and could you be a little awkward about it?".)

-Ché/The Boy: Apparently had a crush on me from third grade until I broke his heart when he asked me to go to a dance in 6th or 7th grade. I don't remember this at all. We had all the same friends but were never particularly good friend with each other. Sometime in 8th grade this changed, probably around the time I called him a chauvinist ass and he called me a bitch. I have no recollection of why this happened, just that it did. I'm sure I had a good reason though. We mostly avoided each other freshman year of high school and then I transferred out of that god damn hick school to the fine/performing arts magnet and forgot he existed until he popped up in my people you might now thingy on facebook. I remember at one point in time thinking he was a nice enough intelligent sort of guy so maybe I was wrong about the whole chauvinist ass thing. We started writing each other daily. He bought me nice dinners, he has a nice car, he knows how to say all the right things he has the responsibility of taking care of things around his and his mother's ranch, he reads a lot, he once asked me if he looked homeless in all brown when he was wearing a very green shirt and he knows how to use a chainsaw. He was a history major, but mostly only likes the old white guy war stuff as far as I can tell. When he'd come home to find his roomie or best friend and me playing MarioKart he would make fun of us. Our common interests include talking about our dead fathers, booze and sex. With a heavy emphasis on the booze and sex.

My friends, his friends and he have all stated that he must have been an incredibly long rebound/I was just going for the opposite end of the spectrum, but I think that's only 75% true.

Both of us have an odd, idealized love for country life. I'm not going to lie, it really does give me great joy to drive around in a giant truck blasting country music because it's just straight up fun, so is drinking by candlelight in the barn and being in a house full of people drunkenly shouting along to "Friends in Low Places". However, I do not want to do those things all the time. I like the environment so I like my fuel efficient car. I like going to indie rock shows. Also the ballet and museums. I'm a contradictory sort of girl.

But I think there's a part of me that's a sucker for the ideal of the educated, sensitive country boy. You know, he knows how to have a good time but he also can take care of his responsibilities. He appreciates food cooked from the plants and animals he's grown. He spends days with the woodsplitter so his mother can have firewood for the winter. He'll probably mostly make sure you're happy and you get what you want, but he's not a pushover. He can fix things And, obviously, he knows how to handle a gun when the zombie invasion comes 'round. (And yes, the boy is part of the constantly talking about the zombie invasion club.) This was the impression the boy gave me when we first started seeing each other. I am not actually a sucker for the country boy who wants to get drunk every single night, tells me I can be a god damn feminist as long as I still shave my legs and would like to be able to use his guns to shoot pretty much anyone that pissed him off.

The country boy image still appeals to me, but I'm pretty sure that if I have to choose my type, I'm going back to nerdy but preferably with some of those other qualities thrown in.

I would like a boy that is something like 75% nerdy, 15% country (I may settle for not a pushover and can fix things without actually being "country") and 10% hipster (alternatively, not actually hipster, but likes music a lot).

So basically, right now, I'm going to be ludicrously picky because I'm not in a hurry and I don't ever want to pretend it could possibly work with someone not even remotely my type again. I'm sure I'll relax my standards once I've been single long enough. Maybe I'll even stop judging people by their taste in authors and ability to write out full words (when hell freezes over) but I don't really know.

And the part where I feel exactly the same as last year...

Once again, how does this whole single thing work?

Somebody give me a god damn cookie... or a high five... or a glass of whiskey

Earlier this week I blocked the boy from my facebook news feed 'cause every time I read something he posted or comments he made to friends I realized how much he pissed me off.

Today his status was asking who was coming to a party at his house tomorrow. That's right, he's throwing a god damn party on my birthday. So now I have friends that are going to go out to dinner with me and then instead of hanging out or grabbing drinks, go to his house. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with him or my friends right now but I'm pretty sick of being perpetually pissed at him.

So he's finally been unfriended, that way I don't have to know about these things and I can't get angry.

Hopefully.

More later tonight. But now I'm going to clean my house, eat some cream of wheat and talk to my cat. 'Cause I'm a spinster like that.