Damn this crazy blogger!

I wrote this great post a few days ago, all about friendship and family and my birthday, yadda yadda, and Blogger ate it. And I don't remember anything that I said. But really, it was good. Trust me. Today I don't have any particularly profound thoughts to pass along. I'm feeling seriously guilty because I had a gnarly stomach thing going on yesterday and couldn't come to work, and tommorow I'm flying to Nashville for a conference, so I only spent a total of maybe 15 hours in the office this week and got little to no work done. Such is life, I guess!

Several events have transpired over the past few weeks...I spent serious quality time with my family, bonded with my friends, got cool stuff in celebration of coming another year closer to age 30, and even joined Weight Watchers so I can start undoing the damage caused by my diet of chocolate mini-donuts, Chipotle burrito bols, and Ben & Jerry's One Sweet Whirled. Wish me luck!

Let's see, what else can I share? My love life continues to be non-existent...I don't even have any good crushes anymore, save for the hopeless one on the guy who barely knows I exist. I don't think I'm mature enough to be in a relationship, anyway. Yesterday I read in a friend's blog that The Boy had been down in Texas around the same time I was, and just the reminder that he's still out there and hanging out with mutual friends, yet doesn't even send me an e-mail once in a while (and why would I even want him to, anyway!) made me all depressed. Bleh. I need to get over it. I have good friends of both the male and female variety, so all that's really missing in my life is intimacy, and I've proven I'm not so hot at that! Besides, nuns survive without it. Spinsterhood can't be that bad.

(The above is, of course, total bullshit. I'm 26, dammit, and I only have maybe 8-10 years of fertility left! Surely there's SOMEBODY out there with whom I'm capable of maintaining an adult relationship! WHERE IS HE???!!!)

Phew. Enough of all that. I'm getting on a plane to Nashville in something like eighteen hours, and I haven't even started packing. In fact, I haven't even unpacked from last week. And I still need to refill a prescription, do two loads of laundry, and bag up some "healthy" snacks in preparation for six days of ass-expanding meals out. AND I'm supposed to go to class tonight. I better haul ass....

Exodus

Something beautiful is happening on campus today. Amid the stale-beer smell leftover from last night's festivities, the kids are on the move. Dirty laundry is being carted out, doors are being slammed, cars are illegally parked in front of the buildings. Spring Break is finally here. And it's even a little spring-like outside today, too. I mean, it's not above 45 or anything, but the sun is out, the snow is melting, and you can almost smell April in the air. I've heard that the springs in Ohio totally make up for the winters, and I'm counting on it.

So I spent the morning at a multicultural recruitment/retention conference and picked up all kinds of fun facts....like, did you know that the gap between state support for public institutions and the cost of tuition per year is at an all time high? That the biggest beneficiaries of affirmative action are white women? That the average graduation rate for African-American college students, thanks to lousy campus climates, inferior K-12 preparation, and socioeconomic disparities, are 20% lower than the graduation rates for whites? I hear people yacking all the time about how far we've come, and how there isn't a "diversity problem," it's just an idea that liberals throw around so we have something else to whine about. Forget about the facts, the numbers, that show us that even though more minority students are enrolling in college than ever before, the gap between white and minority attendance just keeps growing. It's easier to just say there's no problem than it is to sit down and try to figure out what to do about it. And how the hell are we supposed to help these students pay for college when we've cut the number of students elegible for pell grants, the Perkins Loan program is about to go out the window, and the governor of my great state has yet again chopped state funding for higher ed. Bleh! It's such an overwhelming problem, and my ranting about it probably isn't going to help much. But we HAVE to make our legislators understand that we can't produce educated Americans when we make it so hard for them to succeed in college! The "American Dream" has a great big brick wall around it for way too much of our population.

Alrighty, I've spent way more time on this post than I was supposed to, but, bonus! I get to escape the office in 20 minutes. Now the plan is to blog at least once from Texas, but remember, the computer is in high demand at the Mama Peacegrrl house, so cut me some slack if I can't do it. A happy week to all, and remember, my birthday is the 28th, so be sure and send some love!
-pg

It's all about the green

Something I've discovered about these yanks: they take St. Patrick's Day very seriously. Drinking at 7am, green beer, wierd-ass Irish folk music playing over the speaker in the caf...it's all part of the fun. I'd be a lot more excited about the whole thing if I could really participate, but seriously, how fun is it to embarass yourself at the bar when half of your discipline cases are looking on? Nope, I'll have to enjoy the festivities from afar. I did do some Irish dancing (rather badly, of course) on Tuesday night, so at least I feel like I paid homage in some small way. To be honest, I kind of wish I were Irish. My Irish friends all have great skin and one has the most incredible red hair I've ever seen. And then there's the cool accent, the dance tradition, and, of course, the holiday in observance of all things green. We Italians don't have "St. Luigi's Day" or anything like that where we get to party just because we're Italian. Oh well. At least we've got pasta, DeNiro, and Mafia movies.

Spring Break kicks off this friday, which means I'll be heading back to Texas for quality time with the family. Of course, I'm flying out of Cleveland and I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to get to the airport Monday morning, but I figure that'll take care of itself. What am I most looking forward to about going home (besides the nice normal March weather)? Probably hanging out with my mom. The older I get, the more I realize how much I took the concept of "parents" for granted. Time away from work will be pretty cool, too...a lot of stress around here lately. What is it with this generation of college students that makes them so damn depressed? I've dealt with more suicide attempts, cutters, and ODs this year than ever in my seven years in this crazy field. With all this hype about the Millenial generation and how their parents have nurtured them and spoiled them since birth and how they're supposed to be the hope of the nation, it seems like they're awfully down in the dumps by the time they get to college...

I haven't blogged since last week and there are a lot of things I feel like rambling about...the Gay Marriage debate last Wednesday, for example, when I got to listen to this man twist theology around until it became an instrument of hate. Or the Cleveland Film Festival, where I saw an amazing Bosnian film called Midwinter Night's Dream that I still haven't been able to wrap my mind completely around. And then there's the Blind Date guy, who invited me over on Friday, and we finally broke the eye-contact barrier! I could go off on a rant about how we're entering Year 3 of Iraq-nam, with no end in sight, or talk about Bush's joke of a press conference yesterday, when he managed to get through 45 minutes without answering a single question (what a feat! He should write a book!) But instead I need to read a chapter on Perry's cognitive development theory for class this afternoon, so I'd better conserve every bit of intellectual energy I have for that ordeal.
-pg

A Thought For The Day

So there's a lot to blog about...besides wanting to get to the bottom of this whole Modest Mouse controversy, there's been a lot going on in my world this week. But since I have to run off to a meeting in a few minutes, I think I'll just share some lovely Iron and Wine lyrics. There might not be a great love in my life right now, but I can live vicariously through the tapestry of Sam Beam's genius...

love is a dress that you made
long to hide your knees
love to say this to your face
"i'll love you only"
for your days and excitement
what will you keep for to wear?
someday drawing you different
may i be weaved in your hair?

love and some verses you hear
say what you can't say
love to say this in your ear
"i'll love you that way"
from your changing contentments
what will you keep for to share?
someday drawing you different
may i be weaved in your hair?

-love and some verses

Oh, hell yes...

So, who's coming to Bonnaroo with me? Jack Johnson, Modest Mouse, Iron and Wine, O.A.R., and, oh yeah, that guy DAVE MATTHEWS will all be waiting for us in Manchester, Tennessee, from June 10-12. It just so happens that my summer classes don't start until the 13th. I will take this as a sign from God that I must be there. I'd prefer not to go alone, though, so if anybody wants to camp, jam to the best music around, and spend some quality time with the peacegrrl, let me know, 'cause I'm down with that!

-pg

Small Comforts

It's nice to know that when life starts to crumble--a guy turns into an asshole, your jeans don't fit right, and work is a mess--there are people out there to pick you back up, dust you off, and remind you that life doesn't suck. I guess that's the only upside to being down in the dumps--the reminders of how lucky you really are. Today my buddy g-lo presented me with the new Iron and Wine ep, complete with a lovely note: "because he's dumb and because I want to see you smile and because I'm your friend and because I love you!" How awesome is that? And how totally blessed am I? Then there's islegavia, who spent the whole weekend with me (well, most of it, anyway) cheering me up when she's coming off a lousy man experience herself. And random blind-date guy who called me from out of nowhere on Sunday because he wanted to let me know he was thinking about me.

A bad guy experience is kind of like having your car broken into. Maybe you're in the middle of the best day of your life, you got a raise or aced a test or whatever. And you go strolling out to your car, all happy and excited and smiley, and then you see the busted window or jacked-up lock and a few dangling wires where your cd player used to be. And you feel robbed, violated, wronged, and your great day--even though you still have the raise, still have the good grade--suddenly turns to crap. Same thing with guys. You're going along in life surrounded by pretty good things, and then some butthead decides to blow you off because of the way you look, or because somebody better came along...and suddenly your whole life seems to fall apart around you, even though nothing else has really changed. Yesterday you felt pretty, today you feel like a big, ugly nothing. Yesterday you knew your place in the world, and today you're knocked so far off-kilter that you can't even remember what month it is. And you forget about your blessings, which are still there. They're just harder to see through the haze of bitterness, regret, and disappointment that you're surrounded by at the moment.

Sorry for the not-so-creative extended metaphor. But I'm happy to say that my haze has cleared a little for the moment. And a thanks to all of the great people and things in my life...the buddies who won't let me stay down for long, my fellow bloggers who always manage to make me laugh, smile, and think, my mom and the random care packages she sends (yesterday's was complete with Peeps, pistachios, and a dog biscuit that she said was a gift from Bruiser, the family Mastif, who's lovely mug appears above). At least when you feel low, there's the consolation that there's noplace to go but up.
-pg

Free advice and stuff

Stuff first.

I'm feeling a bit better, having had a weekend to feel sorry for myself and reflect on my pissiness. I've mulled over bad relationships, reflected on good (but brief) ones, had entirely too much Malibu rum, done some ill-advised drunk dialing, watched Garden State, considered and promptly vetoed the idea of becoming a lesbian (can't help it, I'm too straight for my own good), and now I'd say I'm fairly ok. Still irritated, but okay. I will say that I was aided in no small part by my latest CD purchase. Do this for me. Go to the store (not Wal-mart, for crying out loud, but you might have good luck at Target), buy the new Franz Ferdinand album, and play track 7 ("This Fire"). If you don't think it's a rockin', kick-ass song, then I don't know what the hell's wrong with you.

In mainstream-movies-I-really-liked news, I saw Hitch this weekend, and despite it being a little predictable and completely unbelievable, it was pretty damn funny. Go the matinee.

And now for a few nuggets of advice to the boys out there reading this thing. Want to avoid pissing women off? Then please adhere to the following guidelines:

1. Don't bullshit. If looks are important to you, be upfront about it. If you're not planning on calling, don't say that you will. Really, I know you do your stupid tap-dancing-around-the-truth crap to avoid hurting our feelings, but here's a clue--we're not stupid. If you're full of shit, we'll figure it out, and then we'll feel even worse. Save us all some time and tell the freaking truth.
2. We're emotional--so accept it, deal with it, get over it. We will take you out of context. We will assume the worst about everything. We will cry when least expected. Don't like it? Then stop going out with women. Want to avoid the minefield? Then do this simple exercise before you say ANYTHING: Think about it before you allow it to come out of your mouth. Is that asking for too much?
3. About 85% of the time, it's PMS. You know it, we know it, so don't be a dumbass and make the mistake of saying, "is it PMS?" You're smart creatures. Learn the pattern, recognize the signs, apply the rule above, and don't ask stupid questions.

See? I don't see how any of the above are HARD. And I don't pretend to understand men in the least, so if there's some shortcut rule list like the one above that we're not seeing, then please, by all means, share it. We need just as much help as you do.

Shallow Assholes!

Alrighty, I never thought of myself as a psycho-feminist. A feminist, yes--supportive of the idea that women should have choices, freedoms, and equal rights. But not a man-hating, "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle," super-angry hardcore whining feminist. But today I'm not so sure. I have the notion at this particular moment that heterosexual men (maybe not all, but certainly most) are shallow pieces of shit! I am very, very angry. I'm sick of bad experiences and feeling like shit, of basing my self-worth on what some loser guy thinks of me, and of getting my hopes up that MAYBE there are actually some good ones out there and MAYBE I've finally, truly actually found one. One who likes me in spite of my wierdness and non-model perfect looks. And then he goes and proves himself to be just as much of a dickhead as the string of bums I've been attracted to as of late.

Fuck. I really liked this guy. I really thought that maybe something was finally out there for me. To be honest, I feel bad even bitching like this, since two of my friends have just gone through hellish breakups that don't even compare to my little disappointing crush...and I don't dare even try to diminish their hurt or the seriousness of their experiences. But I was thinking that maybe in spite of the stupidity of those two pricks, I had drawn the lucky lottery number, I had stumbled on the Lost City of Decent Guys. No such luck.

I am not the first to have these feelings or to ask these questions. The stupidity of men is a topic that has been well-documented throughout human history, in the arts, sciences, and many a chick-flick. I won't solve the mystery, and I'm not trying to. But in spite of my uber-negative mentality, I've always had a secret reserve of hope where men are concerned. I've carried around a faint but absolute confidence in the idea that I'd find one for me. That there's nothing wrong with me and I have every right to be proud of who I am--looks, intelligence, passions, all of it. My sadness and frustration comes from the fact that with every bad experience, every broken heart or dashed hope, a little bit of that confidence is chipped away, and my reserve of hope gets a little smaller. How many shitty guys can it all withstand? When will I run out of faith and turn into a shriveled old maid with five cats and a fucking seperate room for all the scarves I've knitted?

I know their the real losers, but I feel like the one who's lost.
-pg

Okay, clarification

So the new guy in my life that I mentioned is not "the crush" that I was talking about a few weeks ago. THAT guy is, I think, a bit wierd. I mean, it's one thing to talk about sex, but quite another to ask questions as though you're taking notes or conducting a survey. Nope, not cool. This NEW guy has thus far proven not to have any extreme wierdness going on. I know, for those of you attempting to keep track it probably seems like men float in and out of my life like snow. Really, it's not nearly that exciting. I'll make a cheat sheet for you if you'd like.