Life is Busting out ALL Over!

Archive for July 2009

1. 500 days of summer

GO SEE IT!!!! Seriously. Like right now. Go!


I had been waiting and listening to the soundtrack on the website for WEEKS.  I watched the trailer every day,  I cheered every time the trailer came on TV, and I’m sure the boy was all “What the hell have I gotten myself into? This girl CHEERS for movie trailers yet I don’t even watch TV, heck I even listened to the 2008 election on the RADIO. Maybe if I tell her that she  is adorable when she cheers for the trailer, she’ll stop… Nope, that just made her cheer LOUDER. Crap, I think I’ll go run 20 miles barefoot”.

The boy and I got tickets for opening night here in Austin and Friday morning I suddenly became TERRIFIED.

I realized that I had reached the point in which there was NO possible way the movie would ever live up to the expectations I had set for it in my head.  I was pissed at myself (this tends to happen a lot) and then suddenly mortified because I was dragging another person along with me, someone who incorrectly kept referring to it as a chick flick.  P’shaw!! As IF!! I couldn’t wait to prove him wrong, until the terror took over. What if it sucks? It could taint my ability to make decisions, to make decisions that are cool and awesome. We are still at the stage where the boy would use words like ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’ to describe me. I’m not ready for it to plummet just yet.

Friday night, I didn’t want to go. The boy lured me with food by taking me here to watch the movie, where the waiters brought us our chips and queso and his pizza and beer. And then brought me a surprise beer! (I wasn’t going to have anything, and then I gasped when I saw Strongbow Cider and then I had to explain my love for certain ciders to him and then promptly ordered a coke instead) The boy put in our order, or whatever he wanted as I was still so nervous for the movie that I couldn’t eat,  via paper on a clip (Metra train style – I had to explain that one too, I’m sure the people next to us LOVED me) on our table and 30 minutes later a Strongbow showed up just like that!! It was a Christmas miracle! It was a good sign.

The movie rocked. It is not a weepy love story per se (it did well up emotion BIG time for me, however. Secretly), not one at all actually, but I’m not ruining anything by telling you that, it’s in the trailer. It was WAY funnier than I thought. Told from a male point of view and dudes dig it. This should be the movie that girls drag boys too so that in the future they will be willing to go with you to those “chick flicks” you’d want to see.

The point is I was totally validated, will continue to cheer when movie trailers come on TV and  some child actors grow up to be way cute:


2. MAD MEN YOURSELF!!! (dot com)

Man! If only I had gotten my worthless Advertising degree in the 1960s!!


3.  So, I’ve totally replaced my summer love for baseball with a new love for the Tour de France. I know, I’m super ashamed but there are a couple reasons. a) I don’t get WGN, and Comcast sportsnet doesn’t exist here so I’m SOL when it comes to Cubs games b) the Cubs tend to do much better when I don’t pay attention to them, not that I’m the solution, I’m just sayin’ it’s statistically better this way and c) The Tour de France is DRAMATIC. Like full on male hissy fits and stuff. The jury’s still out on Mr. Armstrong, but since he lives here, I definitely hear some crappy things but he’s also an amazing athlete who like bikes home from the airport and stuff so I have to give him props. But then there’s the shady stuff, I mean I guess you live long enough in Austin, you’ll have an LA story, right?

Anyway, did you know the Tour de France is a TEAM sport? I had no idea! It’s super fascinating. Not to mention that the dude who won yesterday is Lance’s TEAMMATE and since the team basically does what it can to help the No #1 guy to win, LA had to stand down and help the dude win. And the Dude was all “I’m so happy to have Lance working for me” and Lance was all “I’m happy to be the dude’s domestique, I’m proud of him” and then refused to comment any further on his teammate, the dude who won,  during the last stages so you know LA was PISSED – because LA loves him some camera time. And then after a total dramatic stage when the dude basically crapped on everyone else, including and especially LA, Lance goes on to announce coming BACK next year with a NEW team – interestingly the winner dude has one more year on their current team… which is pitting LA’s new team vs the current winner dude’s team (LA’s team this year) for a SHOWDOWN!!!

When you think about it, the Tour de France is like the General Hospital of sports. Can’t wait!

BONUS: I have a name for the boy but it’s related to other stuff in a forthcoming post. It’s going well, slightly freaking out but that seems to be norm for me, I feel like.  The whole thing is mind boggling. When he laughs for no reason when he’s with me, he calls them HAPPY GIGGLES. He bikes up and down one of the highways on his lunch hour and has a watch that tracks the calories burned (and heart rate and other stuff). I mean, WHAT? How is this whole thing even possible?

Seriously, if you told me that I’ve just woken up and am part of a new civilzation on a little place we like to call Mars, I’d totally believe you. I mean it would explain a lot and Lord knows it’s hot enough here.


He literally came out of nowhere. I had no time for it really. This one was a disappointment and crashed and burned very quickly, which actually was preferable to any awkward motions of dating to be polite that I cannot endure. I thought it was better that way because by the beginning of June, I had no time for dating. Or so I thought. And I thought wrong.

The connection has been instant, feels intense, and sometimes intimidating. But so unbelievably natural, that I feel like I have to barely lift a finger.

I spent most of June out of town. Zipping across the country.

He has made me love phone calls. Long hours worth of phone calls, which I normally dispise, even in the  old days when I would take some smokes to my back porch just to get through a long call with an old friend or a supportive call to my sister. But his phone calls, from his place overlooking the Austin hills to my beautiful but shallow hotel room in Manhattan, his phone calls always made me sad when we eventually hung up.

He is nothing like me. He is a scientist of sorts. His analytical mind makes mine look like I’ve been just wasting my time, when I actually consider analysis one of my strengths. He runs marathons, and not just any marathons, ultra marathons. He puts his body through hell and then decides to run barefoot so he can hear the mechanics of his stride.

He used to love fast cars and now owns the world’s fastest motorcycle, one in which you have to sit in the fetal position to drive. My response? “So you have to drive it on your side?” Naturally, because the only time I ever would lay in the fetal position is while I lay on my bed.

He owns a TV but only to hook up a DVD player. He does not watch TV. I watch so much TV, I have a DVR to record the shows I’m missing because I’m watching another show.

I am not attracted to his looks. Of anything I could imagine I’d like to gaze into, I don’t think I’d choose anything remotely close to what he resembles. Yet, I can’t wait until I get to see his face.

In July, I arrived back to our city.

It has not been perfect. Oh no, in fact, I almost botched it completely. Lost the whole thing in one fell swoop. It was after one  specific instaneous, intense and slightly intmidating time together, I freaked out the next day and decided to lay low for a little while. Let him take the lead on where this would take us next. This had always worked before, the man dictates when and what we define, where we are going, and what we feel. Except this one.

So what did I do? I waited for him, like I had done countless times before. Not for him, specifically, but the waiting for the other to tell me what was right, that I did. And I waited, and I waited. I waited for what seemed like years, but in fact were just days, a week if not a little more. I made a mistake. I assumed he was like every other man I have dated and that their reactions would be his reaction. Then, when my analytical mind couldn’t possibly rationalize the silence any longer, I reached out. I expected defeat, par for the course, what typically happens. “He’s just not that into you”. Except this one.

He reached back. This one sensed that I needed time to process (I did). This one wanted me to come back to him when I was ready (I was). This one was ready to let go if that’s what I wanted (I didn’t). This one didn’t feel rushed but his feelings weren’t the ones who concerned him. Mine were.

He is attentive in ways I would find annoying on paper but makes our time together feel like it counts in so many different ways now.  He responds with a hug or a squeeze  when my boyfriend Pavlovian response is to wince or wait for laughter directed towards me. He tells me stories, but only the ones in which I derive what matters most to him. He states out loud how he is feeling when he is feeling it, and we aren’t even talking major emotions, and I know he means them. He follows through with actions and not words. But his words? His words state the thing I was thinking anyway, but did not want to say.  He looks me in the eye and does not shift his gaze.  He takes his time and I am not bored.

This might turn into something incredible or it might just fade out as another chapter in the Lessons Learned book of my life. Truth be told, I didn’t want to actually write this, because I didn’t want “jinx” anything. But the real truth is, that I want to remember this. Not that I would forget, but should time, emotions and bias influence in anyway, this is how I want to be treated. It is worth it, to feel this way.  Love can be possible again.

I do not have a boyfriend. I am not in love. It doesn’t even matter if it gets to that point here, but the idea that I can see it again, for that, the man deserves to be named (maybe even a category but let’s not rush things).

Name and more stories forthcoming, so stay tuned. This blog is not called Life is Stagnant All Over, after all!


musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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