I'm trying to make the most of my last few days of freedom before I start work. Mostly that means running errands, smoking cloves and writing poems, and slacking off. I've been watching movies and playing games and hanging out with the roommates. It took us three days to play our first game of Risk. Rich wiped out Amanda and Nick. I managed to hang onto one country in Europe, and that was it. Maybe next time we play, I'll be better.
Today I went back to fill out the paperwork for my new job. I guess I passed that drug test, after all! I would be lying if I said I were excited about being a cashier again, but you do what you have to do to pay the bills. If my rent were $100 cheaper, I wouldn't need this job, but it's not, and I do. I might as well make the best of it.
Lindsay came over tonight and we all played Apples to Apples and drank some wine and Mike's hard lemonade. Then I got everyone to play You Don't Know Jack. It was difficult, because everyone in the group, (excluding Amanda, including myself), likes to talk non-stop and so we missed lots of Cookie's instructions and jokes. Then I showed Nick and Lindsay funny exam answers and overheard at the office and then we went through the quotes page archives and got nostalgic. All in all, a good night. Five minutes ago, I was not tired, but now... I am a little sleepy. It is probably the cat's fault.
"Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward." -- Kurt Vonnegut
I have a job interview for tomorrow. It's retail, part-time, very nearby. Hopefully it will go well and provide me some steady income.
The trip to Illinois was not so bad. My mom and I listened to a book on tape version of Pride and Prejudice that I got from the Beacon library. Saturday night was awesome because I got to party with Michelle, Dan, Seth, Steve, Bret and Kathy. We played Euchre. We as a group beat Super Mario Brothers III. I got drunk. It was fantastic. I spent as much time as I could with Dan and Michelle on the trip. I also saw my selfish, egotistical, ungrateful brother, and he pushed my buttons until I wanted to tear my hair out. (It took about 20 minutes.)
The trip home was all right. I drove through almost all of Indiana and a good chunk of Ohio. I hung out all week in Binghamton at mom's house and then she drove me back to Beacon on Saturday. It was like, "Hey, mom, remember how we just drove a thousand miles? Want to drive 200 more? Please please?" But she brought me important things that I couldn't have taken with me on the bus. Like my TV.
After we unloaded my stuff, we went mattress-shopping. I got a really nice full-size bed and it was delivered this morning. You know what you shouldn't shop for when you're tired? Mattresses. They keep having you lie down to test them out, and all you want to do is go to sleep because you're so comfortable - but you can't. It's torture. But now I have a mattress. It's sweet.
The house is nice. We live in half a vertical-split duplex. On the first floor, there's a big living room, a large dining room, and a big-ass kitchen. The second floor has three bedrooms. Most of the house has pretty good-looking hardwood floors. My room has some dingy old tile, but it has two windows and its own ceiling fan. I'm pretty happy with it. I'll be happier when I have a job.
One good thing is that there are a couple of unsecured wifi connections nearby. They're pretty unreliable, but still better than no Internet at all.
I hate when things that should be quick and easy turn out to be difficult and time-consuming.
I'm moving to Beacon on Sunday. Then, next Friday, I'm going with my mom to Illinois. So I have been charged with the relatively simple task of getting from Beacon to Binghamton before noon on Friday. A series of unfortunate and, frankly, inexplicable events prevents me from being able to do this in under five hours.
1.) Short Line Coach is on strike.
2.) There is no Amtrak station in Binghamton.
3.) There are no Greyhound bus stations in Beacon or Newburgh.
4.) There is a Greyhound bus station in Poughkeepsie. For some reason, the bus ride from Poughkeepsie to Binghamton (a three-hour drive, tops) takes nineteen hours. I am not making this up, I am not that creative.
5.) The only plausible route I have discovered - so far - is to take the Metro from Beacon to Grand Central Station (90 minutes), walk a mile to Port Authority, then take a Greyhound bus (3 hours) to Binghamton.
There has to be a better way.
Thank you for reading my rant. As a present for being so nice, here is a song you can download:
After yesterday's Jane Austen post, this is what I've been thinking about:
Any man who is threatened by your intelligence, your success, or your wit is a waste of your time. I'd rather be single for the rest of my life than have a relationship with someone who felt threatened by how brilliant, talented, and funny I am.
Any tradition that values women based on their partners instead of their individual identity isn't worth preserving. Let's continue to demolish this tradition. Unmarried women are not objects of mockery. They're role models to women who refuse to sell out their dreams.
I just watched Becoming Jane with my mom. It's not bad. It's not great, either. But there's an interesting moment when Jane talks with a contemporary "authoress." Mrs. Radcliffe remarks that it's horribly embarrassing for her husband to be married to a woman with a literary reputation. Jane says (I'm paraphrasing), "But surely it must be possible to be a writer and a wife?" Mrs. Radcliffe says, "Oh, yes, it's possible. But it's never easy."
Florence King wrote, "The witty woman is a tragic figure in American life. Wit destroys eroticism and eroticism destroys wit, so women must choose between taking lovers and taking no prisoners."
Even today, with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler making a killing at the box office, there are always people lining up to write articles about how women supposedly aren't funny. (They're morons, but they're out there.)
Anyway, Becoming Jane did make me want to read Pride and Prejudice again, and find out more about Jane Austen's life. I happened to find this poem:
You could not shock her more than she shocks me; Beside her Joyce seems innocent as grass. It makes me most uncomfortable to see An English spinster of the middle class Describe the amorous effects of "brass," Reveal so frankly and with such sobriety The economic basis of society. -- W. H. Auden, Letter to Lord Byron (1936)
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