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emmy [AT] curious-notions {dot} net
October 2019
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Pink and black and blue for you

For a while now Bear and I have talked about moving. We’ve talked about moving to Virginia. We’ve talked about moving to Florida. We’ve talked about just moving a town or two over from where we are now. In all of this, we’ve never talked about moving to Texas. It’s too conservative. It’s too hot. It’s got lots of crazy people.

Then about 7? months ago or so, there were rumors that Google Fiber would be moving to Austin, TX. Bear turned to me and said “How would you feel about moving to Austin?” I long ago had thought that if Bear and I ever moved to Texas, the only place that we’d really want to be was Austin. I thought I had given up the idea though until Bear said that. I flipped and after talking about it for a bit and Bear talking to some of my family about it, Bear and I started looking for work. There seemed to be plenty, but we weren’t having much luck until my bff sent my resume to her HR department.

I’m skipping over a lot of frantic planning and scrambling, but now Bear and I are frantically packing up our house and asking ourselves if we are insane on a near daily basis. As crazy as this news is: Bear and I are moving to Austin.

 

Whatever your heart needs

It seems like every day lately is a new adventure. I’m scattering all over trying to get a job. Bear is scattering all over for his jobs (new and old). He recently flew to a city and back in the same day with a layover each way while also with the flu and on antibiotics. That was a shitty day. A ton more for Bear (who had a panic attack on one of the tiniest planes), but I was ground control for him and he had no phone and his third flight was delayed which meant he was going to miss his fourth flight. I freaked out all over a nice man from United who was very very kind. I know United has a crap reputation, but that guy, whose name I didn’t get, was a sweetheart.

Today he’s on a train to take him to NYC and he’ll be back tonight. My brother is flying into town this afternoon. Bear doesn’t have a phone because Verizon Wireless sucks major balls. It’s a stupid ugly story where basically their sales and customer service pretty much lied and hung up on me for over a week. After charging me. For two phones that hadn’t even shipped. It’s so infuriating that I don’t even know what I’m doing about it yet. Probably we are going to refuse delivery of the phones and not go with Verizon Wireless I guess.

So I gave Bear my phone and he borrowed a blackberry from his work for me to use. That way he can amuse himself on the train with books and internet and such. My brother can call me when he lands and then tonight I’ll get my phone and credit card back. Oh right. That’s the other thing. Our printer fucking gave up the ghost last night while I was trying to print out the barcode for Bear to get his Amtrak tickets. And since I bought his tickets with my credit card and we’ve never taken the train before, we weren’t sure if HIS credit card would work. It SHOULD because he’s the passenger, but 6am was not the time to be testing shit out.

We were supposed to get there earlier but this morning was also a little snow storm that made the normally 30 minute drive into a 45-50 minute drive. I normally have no problem driving in snow storms, but I don’t normally drive that stretch of highway in the dark during a snowstorm because that stretch of highway doesn’t have any lamps/street lights. It was a little tense in the car.

Now he’s safely on a train and I’m finishing the lab cleanup I was asked to do. Today is my last official day in the lab. Tomorrow I’m proctoring a test, but that’s the last time I’m scheduled to come on campus.

(Linda, the song is California by Delta Spirit and the lyric is “I want you to move to California for yourself, I want you to find whatever your heart needs”.)

P.S. I might think this is remarkable just because I adore the man, but after I dropped him off he texted the stupid blackberry: “Thanks again. You got me off safely.” He’s ridiculous, but adorable.

Are you steady now?

I’ve been feeling overdrawn lately. Not tired or empty exactly, but like I’m playing a lot of catch-up instead of staying on a steady pace. I have a weird reaction to this feeling. It’s to try and hole up and stick my head in the sand. Which of course makes the catch-up worse when I crawl back out, but that’s my quirky reaction.

Speaking of quirks, my bff/sister/brain/partner-in-crime/Linda, posted about her quirkiness the other day and I got to thinking about quirks. I like to acknowledge a quirk and then get out of my own way. If I’m suddenly overcome with anxiety about the crack on the ground, I walk around it. If I have to have all the lights off before I go to sleep, I get my ass out of bed and turn them off. I don’t berate myself for having the quirk and make myself neurotic trying to overcome it. So here, for perusal, are some quirks that I’ve either encountered or own.

  • If I’m sleeping, all the lights have to be off.

If Bear is awake while I’m trying to sleep, he can have 1 light. ONE. Anymore than that trips my light anxiety.

  • I can’t get into bed unless my feet are clean.

If they’ve been in socks all day, that’s sometimes ok. But most days either I have to get into bed straight from a shower or I go and wash my feet in the bathroom sink before bedtime. Sometimes the rest of me can be not so clean, but my feet have to be.

  • I don’t like bones.

I don’t like eating around bones. I don’t like other people munching on bones. When Bear cooks something with a bone, I’ll eat the drier breast or I’ll cut the meat away from the bone and give the bone portion to Bear.

  • I don’t like raw meat.

Touching or seeing. Because of this quirk and the bone quirk, I’ve flirted with the idea of being a vegetarian. Bear always thwarts me though. Fish are exempt from the bones and raw quirks. I can eat and touch fish with bones or in the raw.

  • Sometimes I get random OCD. Then it’ll go away.
  • If my inbox has a single unread email, I stay anxious and flinchy until the email is read and marked down somewhere.

Even if all I do is put it down on a “to reply” list, I have to read it and decide what I’m going to do. It can’t sit there. (If I’ve got something that needs urgent attention, but I can’t get to it right then or I’m procrastinating, I’ll deliberately leave it unread or email myself to get that unread email in my inbox.)

  • I can’t have music playing while I read something.

I’ll pause pandora while I’m reading over code and then hit play when I’m writing over and over again during the day. If I take a break to read email, I’ll pause. (Actually hitting pause and play over and over again is too slow so mostly I push my headphones back on my ears and off my ears over and over again. It’s faster.)

  • I can’t listen to music when I’m creating (writing a story, spinning).

(Blog posts and emails are sometimes creative and sometimes …more technical. This can be problematic because often I’ll hit play, but then the music gets in the way of what I’m writing and I won’t realize it until I get really frustrated and take off the headphones.)

  • The tv or music MUST be on when I’m doing laundry or knitting. I need distraction from the brainless repetitiveness of folding or knitting.

Dude. Reading all of those makes me think I’ve lied to myself all these years. I say I never get bored, but I think I do! I think I just automatically do something to stop the boredom. I turn on the tv or some music and then when my brain gets engaged I have to turn off the tv or music.

Ok, I’m starting to sound like I belong in a mental hospital and that Bear is a saint for putting up with me, soooooo I think that’s all I’m gonna list. Tell me a quirk of yours (or bash me and point out more of mine if you want).

(Linda, pretty sure that’s a White Stripes song. The reason I picked it… well the song itself might not fit, but the lyric does.)

Shadows of your song

So I got linked to a few posts about love (mostly romantic and parental) in the last day and almost every one left me cold. Which is strange despite the fact that Linda will tell you I am often not impressed. Love tends to get to me. I’m a romantic. Not just the love that comes with sex, but all love. I love parents who adore their kids and kids who adore their parents and friends who love each other and people who fall in love with a partner. Maybe my problem is that I like my love messy. I love the kids who are adopted and abuse every trust they are given until their parents break and then realize they’ve got an uphill battle of earning what they were given for free. I love parents that abandon their kids and then break their kids trust and then crawl over broken glass to prove that they do love them and they are over whatever caused them to act that way. I love the friends who adore each other from 3000 miles away or who forgave one of them fucking the other’s significant other. I love all queer couples and interracial couples and people whose partners are transgender. I am the biggest softy for love that has been strained and torn and abused and abandoned and then is picked up again and mended and displayed with all of its defects.

I tend to not think of Bear and I in any of these lights. I tend to think of Bear and I as the most plebeian boring couple ever. I don’t live in a reality where we are an interracial couple or where we were long distance for years or where we met on the internet right smack when the internet was new enough to be super frightening and old enough that it had become easy for predators and users to be present. I ignore how I was underage and Bear just over the legal line when we started talking and how he could have gotten into trouble. I close my eyes against the memory of my mom threatening to disown me if I talked to Bear again. I ground through a lot of our past (and present and future probably too) problems. Clinical Depression. The IRS. Immaturity. Inexperience. Fear.

This isn’t the blog post I had planned on writing. I read the other blog posts about love and I thought to myself, you know what love is? Love is getting up every night to get your partner his medicine because he never takes care of himself. Love is putting up with unending days of questions about how you feel and how you slept and smiling and working to answer her questions and telling her that you love that she cares about you. Love is taking out the trash. Love is telling her she smells nice when she comes and cuddles you and puts an elbow in your kidney. Love is shutting up and letting your partner talk. Love is being pissed at your mother in law on your partner’s behalf and still saying she can come visit whenever she wants because you know how much it means to your partner. Love is losing sleep so your partner has company during some of the hours where insomnia is winning. Love is cleaning bathrooms and floors because your partner shouldn’t have to breathe toxic chemicals. Love is putting his toothbrush head back on the sonicare after you brush your teeth and putting his toothbrush head case for him after he brushes his. Love is killing the flies and spending hours researching house maintenance and lawn care.

For all that I find dramatic, compelling and heart melting, what really gets us through the day are the random kisses on the insides of wrist and the head scratches that last until a hand falls off. What really makes me believe in love and in loving someone are the grinding stupid sweet daily things. The ones that feel like moving a mountain a single pebble at a time and the ones that are so tiny but make the mountain feel like a balloon.

(Dear Linda, probably I should have named the blog post “make you feel my love” but I think I might have already used that and for some reason I feel like the title I did use fits much better even though the song it comes from might not. The song is Ready to Start by Arcade Fire. Its an awesome song.)