Escape to New York

So, I've decided: I'm moving to New York this summer. Not permanently, just for the summer. In all likelihood, just for July and August, in fact. Collier is going to be house-sitting for her friend Ruth, who is going to be in Argentina all summer. Collier needs a roommate, and Ruth lives in Prospect Heights, so the chips are already falling into place. The only logistical hurdle I see is subletting my apartment for 2 months. But hopefully that won't be a problem. And what to do with Littlejeans. I'm a little concerned about that as well.

I love Austin, but sometimes (well, just lately) I feel like I'm being slowly suffocated here. I haven't spent any significant amount of time outside of this city in 7 years and I desperately need a change of scenery, some new stimulation. In the past I've had a habit of running away from things I don't want to deal with, and since "settling" here in Austin, I haven't really felt that urge too too much. But I'm feeling it now. I don't want to move, so I think just spending the summer someplace else would be just the trick. It's an exciting prospect and I'm really looking forward to it. I have somewhat of a love/hate relationship with New York, and last time I was there was August, and I thought it was miserable. So hopefully I'll be thrilled to return to Austin in September, rejuvenated and refreshed, happy to be Home.

The best compliment I've ever received....?

If someone who's met me only 4 times can say to me, "You have more truth and hope in you than probably anyone else I've ever met," then I think I'll be all right.

Sums up the spirit of the day....

I hope Collier won't mind my sharing, but she sent me the most perfect Valentine greeting ever. Especially in light of recent events....

Seriously. The best ever. I love her more than can ever be expressed for always having the perfect thing.

More Pretend Boyfriends*

For some reason, I think I'm totally in love with Ryan Reynolds. I just caught like, the last 45 minutes of this monster on Oxygen.

While the movie, obvs, was terrible, I found Ryan utterly watchable every second that he was on the screen. And we all know how I feel about Just Friends.

*copyright Kris.

Parental Advisory Warning

I had about a 45-minute meeting this morning with a professor in the English department about my short story I gave him last week. I gave it to my Lit professor first, and he had wonderful things to say about it, and recommended that I let this other guy read it. Which he did. It was very sweet of him to do so, as I'm not even one of his students; he had no idea who I was when I walked into his office and out of the blue asked him if he would read my short story and give me feedback. Which he did. It was very thoughtful and instructive, and I could tell he spent a lot of time on it, as the margins were full of notes.

But he said he liked the story very much, found it "moving" and "sad," and said that I wrote "elegant sentences." But he also had a lot of recommendations, and while even he admitted they were mostly "cosmetic," urged me to really think about them and take them or leave them. Then he gave me the name of the new head of the "fiction" branch of the English department, and told me to have him read it, and see what he thought about the suggested recommendations. Which I'm going to do this week.

This is why I love school. This guy also seemed to think that, despite the very explicit nature of the story, that I should have no problem finding some literary journals to publish it, as long as I did my research and sent to ones whose editors liked "edgier, more boundary-pushing material" (his words). I left his office filled with glee.

I also got my written essay exam from my Lit class back today that I took on Friday. We had 50 minutes to write 3 essays about 2 short stories and a novel, and I was pretty worried about how I did. Turns out I got a 98.

Today's been a good day.

And he stumbled over his words in the most endearing way

Who is this man in front of me? He sounds like a redneck and who the hell has ever heard of DeSoto, Texas? He wore a brown belt with black shoes.

But we 2-stepped and sang along to George Strait. At first we were stepping all over each other, but eventually we got into a groove and even got comfortable doing twirls. We were all over that dance floor.

We ended up talking about James Baldwin and Ayn Rand. He was married once for a year and a half when he was 23. Funny.

I got to the St. Edwards library 3 minutes before they closed in order to print out my paper that's due tomorrow morning at 8, because we spent so much time kissing in his car.

"I wasn't expecting that."

We argued about who lunged for who first. Ultimately it doesn't matter.

I ran into my therapist. We chatted for a bit. Goddamn, I miss that guy. He's so awesome.

Good night.

Tragic news from Arkansas

I don't know if any of you have been following the story of the man suspected in a gun and machete attack in a gay bar in Massachusetts, but apparently he somehow ended up in Arkansas, where he killed a woman and a police officer and was shot in the head and died.

It's a terrifying, but sort of mesmerizing, story. I wish I knew how he ended up in Arkansas from Massachusetts (maybe just passing through on his way somewhere else?), but this story has really caught my attention recently. Too bad it had to have such a gruesome ending.

Marathon Insanity.

Somebody's paying attention!

Go get him, Ladies!!!

Now, where's my god damn Missed Connection?!??

Myers-Briggs

In my Theories of Personality class today we had a guest speaker from the career center come in and talk to us about how the career advisement center uses the Myers-Briggs Personality Test, among other tests, to help students determine what direction their education and careers should take. I've taken the test before, and am a pretty solid INFP, meaning "Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiver. A mini-profile:

"INFPs are quiet, creative, sensitive and perceptive souls who often strike others as shy, reserved and cool. These folks have a rare capacity for deep caring and commitment--both to the people and causes they idealize. INFPs guide their behavior by a strong inner sense of values, rather than by conventional logic and reason. Forced to cope with this facts-and-figures "real" world we inhabit, INFPs may appear to have been imported from another galaxy! They gravitate toward creative or human service careers which allow them to use their instinctive sens of empathy and remarkable communication skills. Strongly religious, spiritual or philosophical people, INFPs may see the purpose of their lives as an inner journey, quest or personal unfolding. More practical or rational types may tend to discredit the INFP's sources of understanding as mystical. The search for a soulmate is a preoccupation for many INFPs, who must balance their need for privacy and peace with their yearning for human connection. If there seems to be an air of sadness in the INFP's spirit, blame it on this type's longing for the perfect in all things."

Does that sound like me? Inherently, they are classified by their "idealism" and sensitivity and altruistic tendencies. And you know what the #1 job listing is for people who fit into this category (which I didn't know until today)? Psychologist! That was exciting.

If anyone else out there has taken the test, or wants to take it now, I'd be very interested to know how you turn out. I love this stuff.

Incredible but terrifying

Someone needs to erect a statue to this woman. She is a true Patriot.

Don't Look Now

Has anyone ever had the kind of nightmare where nothing actually happens, but it's infused with such a sense of dread and foreboding that you wake up with your heart racing, and absolutely paralyzed with fear?

I can't even begin to really get into what exactly was going on in the dream, or what all the symbolism must mean, except to say that it all seems to have a lot of echoes of my past. It started out with my being all alone in Dallas, downtown somewhere, at night, and there was a serial killer in the area that hadn't yet been caught. It was some kind of dwarf who would break into children's rooms and cut up their faces and throats with a scalpel. And while this didn't happen in the dream, I was aware of its happening, and I was terrified and lost, and I don't remember what I was doing there.

Then it shifted to my childhood bedroom I had until I was 15. I was the age I am now, and sleeping in it, and wondering why, and the door was shut, and I could see, through the light at the bottom of the door, footsteps, and I just knew that it was the weird dwarf/monster thing, having come to kill me, and I was wondering why my parents weren't saving me, and why, being almost 30-years-old, I couldn't get out of bed and save myself.

Then I woke up, and it was still dark and I was short of breath, and almost felt like I was having a panic attack.

Very weird. It's times like these I wish I was still going to therapy.