To the left, to the left

Slowly moving my life into boxes, which is either a joyous or depressing project. There's so much to miss in Eugene. That felt strange to write, but I'm glad to get out of town before I've worked it dry of all possible affection. Eugene's not used up, and I know I'll be back.

spam, mole, ice cream...

Possibly the best spam sender/subject combination in a while.

From: "Mai Colon"
Subj: The former paints a more vivid picture of the tank top than the latterporn

Backing up to the weekend, the mole endeavor was a success. Jenaya and I concocted some bitchin' bread pudding as well, and Ryan taught me how to make tortillas. I haven't made too many dishes that complex and had them enjoyed by so much good company. Makes me ever more sad to leave Eugene.

As did the whiskey and ice cream evening. We made about half of the sundae menu sound dirty (Kathy's Pink Surprise and the Gold Nugget were favorites. The Pearl Street joint actually has something called a Fudge-ana, which I'm not sure can be pronounced with maturity.) Meg has a few pictures, including one of our birthday "twins," John and Trish. (They're not related and it wasn't anyone's birthday. I can't go in that place without a drink or three in me, though. Too much creepy wholesomeness. I expect evil ringmasters to start pushing over-sized lollipops at me.)

Getting my OLCC on tomorrow. Woo.

Compiling a list of things to do in Eugene before I leave has become daunting. I will miss days like today with amiable cooking, jokes over crummy pizza, biking in the cooler hours, Sweet Life goodies. Moving makes me sentimental -- moreso than usual, even. (Screw you, Firefox spellcheck. Moreso is too a word.)

If I'm less than tenacious in keeping in touch down the road, it's not for lack of love.

I've learned and re-learned a few things while getting back into biking with traffic these past few days.

If I...

-make flirty eyes at older dykes, they always let me in.
-give hippie-types a big grin and a thumbs up, they always let me in.
-take middle-aged men as seriously as they take their vehicles, they always let me in.
-am anything but the pinnacle of bike safety and road rules, hardcore bikers will glower and cut me off.
-bike with wet hair, hilarious 'dos result.
-adjust my saddle properly, I can avoid unpleasant bruising.

I'd forgotten a few things

Topping the list of late: why I stopped buying Tom's of Maine deodorant in the summer, what warm weather does to me (mania for the outdoors and consequent sunburn, desires for charred meat, that sort of thing) and the realization that I do, in fact, have muscles. Many of them are sore. I've had the new bike less than a week and I've logged something like 30 miles. Considering the (sad) shape I'm in, not bad.

Testing the waters on this one: Law school. Down the road a piece, natch. Civil rights and labor law specifically. Thoughts?

If I didn't mention it before, my days in Eugene are officially numbered. Moving Day: July 20. Sometimes that feels too soon, other times too late. Which probably means it's as good as any date.

Reading! So much reading. Chewed on some major Faulkner for a while, but I've since moved on to Ragtime. I think this is my fifth or sixth attempt on that one. Determination!

meet the new lady in my life!

I call her Amelia because DAMN! does she fly. The affair has only just begun. Prepare yourselves for imminent bike nerdiness. Cheap, too. Found the poor girl on Craigslist and biked out to the boondocks to save her. She's been approved by the Maarty himself.

Also: I leave for Portland July 20th. There will be some kind of (very cheap) departure festivities, possibly protracted over several days. Until then, I'm wilfully unemployed and living off of cheap starch and apples.

The job search continues, although the Tenuous Internship grows more solid. They're looking for an office manager as well, and ideally, I'd be filling both positions. I met the staff while in Portland. They seem like a generally cool bunch; definitely a computery crowd.

Met some queers and some politicos while in the PDX. I can't wait to move there. Not so much for the folks I met, but the atmosphere that engenders meeting people so easily.

And I went clothing shopping, finally. Thanks to the lovely love that is Katharine, I'm okay in the trousers department, and now tops are finally replenished. Thrift!

now what?

As of June 16, I'm an unemployed college graduate. Flitting off to a wedding that I don't especially want to go to this weekend, although it's in Portland which is some consolation -- the apartment and job searches begin in earnest now. (Actually, the wedding itself is in Hillsboro, which kills me. So far! No car! Drat, I say.)

I've got all this time now, and it's confusing me. What the hell do I do with myself now? The potential internship looks less promising day by day, and I can only hang in Eugene living off of savings for so long.

On the other hand, I can have hobbies again. Woo!

This was going to be more interesting, but the thought of Now What? is pretty tedious and all-consuming these days.

My last finals week begins today. Asses will be kicked, papers written, beers drunk. Until then, GOD DAMN IT.

question

culinary.

do y'all say kyew-linary or cull-inary? I've been teased for the former. It was said to be "provincial." (which I am totally NOT!)

inconvenient!

This final set of finals is seriously cutting into my leisure time. I'm trying to finish Absalom, Absalom! over here.

The Tofu Challenge

or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Soybean

These days, I'm tofu's bitch. I drain, I press, I cook separately, I use extra firm (we're talking curry and stir-fry material here,) but no dice. It's gloppy at worse, squidgy at best. All I want is to be able say with confidence, "Why yes! I can cook tofu!"

Not that I'm cutting meat -- never that. Tofu is simply another ingredient to add to my repertoire. Plus, many omnivores such as myself don't know how to treat the stuff. It's a point of culinary pride.

Plus, a huge percent of the dating pool I'm swimming in leans veggie. There. I said it.

Anyway, I'm having a fuck of a time with this curdmass problem of mine. Any tips from y'all?

Also: frozen edamame has sustained me for a week now. Soybeans, fun fact to know and share, are acceptably spelled both "soy bean" and "soybean."

This post brought to you by the National Beef Council.

only mildly badass, but still.

hand tattoos be hand tattoos.

hamsters is nice, but tattoo artists is nicer

Saturday. 3 pm. Mild badassery gonna go down.

Despite not actually having all that much spare time, thesis completion has certainly engendered a "whatever" sort of attitude toward other classwork. By all accounts, I should be flipping the hell out because of the backlog of tedious reading and projects to be done. Instead, I'ma post pictures of Alaska.



Edit: problems loading. Go here.

I passed! With honors! Thesis is over! Beer!

that was today.

one step closer to graduating and getting that dog.

tattoos are in the works. consultation tomorrow. I've been keeping this somewhat under my hat. but yes. tattoos.

I'm still upset about the bears -- refer to prior entry.

inappropriate use of second person

You know those days where you wake up two hours later than you intended? Then you avoid the real work you have to do (perhaps because you're debilitatingly anxious about a certain thesis defense the next day) by making ANGRY MIX 2007 and making breakfast out of tortillas and stolen peanut butter. Or maybe you try to take a shower with your socks still on. Myspace will probably tell you things you didn't want to know anyway, while insisting that beefcake-y match.com ads are your thing. (Seriously? market research? anyone?)

And do you remember that time you totally danced a kink into your back at Queer Prom? It was worth it, but now you feel about 30 years older than you actually are.

Check it: you've only been awake for 48 minutes. And they're going to dye the bears. BEARS ARE NOT HARD TO IDENTIFY. THEY ARE BEARS.

my first and last frontier

in Alaska. As ever, it's strange to be here, to be home. I'm always struck by how ugly this city is and how attached I am to it (despite common sense and unpleasant memories.) Phase one of cleaning out my room was a success -- a few old t-shirts and hats will come home with me. Phase two, the books, will take longer.

Spending time with my brother this trip has been so fucking cool. He's funny and awkward and pretty damn bright. I like him.

Pictures to come.

(notes to self: junk email, snoop dog, bikesbikesbikes, and the mountains.)

it's done.

The thesis, that is. I defend May 22, at 11:30am. If you're a Eugener and available, ask me where and attend! I'll be dressed nicely for a change and geeking out in front of a live audience.

FINALLY.

"Bad vomit."

...and that's how I spent my saturday. Trying not to dwell on the hike in the sunshine and DoublePlusGood action that I missed.

Also, I'm the second or third to last person on the planet to join myspace, but I did it after much cajoling. so there's that. puke and murdoch.

the week 5 shuffle

My brain is, in fact, melting. Burn-out manifests itself so forcefully these days, I occasionally smell smoke. Midterms have not treated me kindly, and I'm really, really ready to be made tired by something that's not an essay or some crap in German. Graduation is so close...

Thanks to M, I went to the Decemberists show gratis (hooray for elephant guest passes!) and saw quite the audience participation spectacle. Maybe it was the substances, but I didn't find the show terribly engaging even though Colin Meloy was inciting dance rebellion and working the crowd with something like desperation. Also: giant whale. Maybe it was the profusion of prog rock/jam band moments -- I'm into the D-rists and I'm into Emerson, Lake and Palmer,* but I didn't expect to see the two meet sonically at the Macdonald last night. It wasn't good or bad, just something I hadn't anticipated; I couldn't quite lose myself in the thing for some reason, and I'm trying to figure out why. Not having heard any of the new album (except the omnipresent Valencia song) couldn't have helped.

Breaking from thesis right now. For those of you in Eugene free at 11:30 on tuesdays, come to my defense. May 22.

And women are nothing but trouble.

*What? I don't believe in musical skeletons in playlist closets. Cribbing from M, the phrase "guilty pleasures" implies guilt. So there, music snobbery.