Posts (page 2)

But I know I have a losing hand.

I get caught up in life and forget about this. I apologize.

I was in a car accident on Friday. Coming around a bend, I hit some ice and slammed into a parked car. I couldn't have been going more than 20 mph, but my front end just crumpled. And while I was waiting for the cops to arrive, forty minutes later, another car did the same thing and hit me from behind.

I'm fine. Not hurt, just shaken. My car is totalled. I just sat in my car crying and screaming "I hate this city!" My friend Nick said I need to come back to the tropical paradise that is hurricane land. I agree.

They towed the car yesterday. The guy picked up most of the large pieces. I grabbed a little one, just as a reminder. The whole situation is kind of a mess. I keep thinking I'll just drive over somewhere and then remember that that mess can't drive anywhere. I have to call about a rental, I guess. There's just so much to be done.

Except instead of running from my woman, I'm running from my roommates.

That came out wrong. I'm not running away, per se. My roommates aren't bad people. We're all friends here. But sometimes I cannot stand to be in the house. After a day of classes and rehearsal, I need to be antisocial for a bit. So I got in my car and got lost in Pittsburgh for the better part of an hour.

I drove around and made a wrong turn and then I knew exactly where I was. I hate that. On the one hand, it helps me understand the city better. I can relate where I'm going to where I've been. On the other hand, it means the adventure is over. I'm no longer lost. Anywhere I go from there will be tainted with the knowledge of my general whereabouts. A good driving adventure has to last more than 40 minutes. I'll try again later in the week when I can afford another tank of gas.

Yea, I didn't do it. Disappointing, I know. I spent most of February 1 driving. I was rushing to Cleveland to make a concert. And then I was at the concert. And then I was waiting by the stage door. And driving back home.

I will do it eventually, I promise. I might make my own hourly comic day. Just to prove that I've got the discipline for it. They'd probably be boring. Or too long. I find that most of the "funny" situations in my life require a lot of background. By the time I draw it out, it's not really worth it.

Vox has changed its format a bit since I was last on, and it's throwing me off. Also, I am having difficulty spelling. Coincidence?

http://www.hourlycomic.com/

The Hourly Comic is a project by John Campbell of Pictures for Sad Children. John makes a comic for every hour that he is awake. On February 1st, he asks other artists to contribute their hourly comics. The result is a message board full of stories. Last year's project had almost 150 entries.I am going to try my very hardest to participate, and I hope Vox readers will also be inspired.

February 1, 2008 is Hourly Comic Day!

I came upon this list the other day. I find that I get stuck in a rut more often than I'd like, and I'm going to use this list to inject some fun into my daily routine.

Brian and I started the list with #46, taking the day to drive around. Ryan's birthday was this past Saturday, so Friday night we went to Giant Eagle to buy cake stuff. We're headed home around midnight when Brian turns to me and asks if I want to go home or just drive around. I tell him to tell me where to turn. We ended up in this adorable post-war suburban neighborhood, all single-family homes and cars parked on the curb. Brian just kept directing me uphill, until we found an amazing overlook of the city. Right as we were going over the peak, Brian noticed a set of stairs leading off the road. We parked and walked down. They led to another road about forty feet lower. We kept driving, made one turn, and we were by the zoo. Brian started yelling, "I know exactly where we are. How did we get here?" I just smiled.

We started again in a new direction. Brian took me to this outlook over the highway. I guess there used to be a house there because there is clearly a brick foundation. Now it's all trees. It was cold and icy and our flashlight was weak, so we stopped about 3/4 of the way down. Neither of us wanted to be stuck out on that cliff. We drove for a long time after that, one turn and Brian knew exactly where we were. That's the fun of driving adventures. Discovering new parts of the city, Spacial relationships.

We went to McDonald's for bathroom break and snacks. Waited inside for ten minutes without any service before waiting in the drive-thru for twenty minutes. At one point Brian realized that the location was open 24/7 and how dangerous that was. He just turned to me and said, "I don't think I could work here." I laughed the rest of the night.

We got home at 4 and slept soundly. No pictures but I'm sure we'll do it again. Maybe with a fuller car, or a longer distance.

Fat acceptance is a very scary thing.

I've been fat my whole life. And through societal signs, I had come to accept the fact that my physical appearance was to blame for many of my failures. Being fat meant that I was ugly, lazy, stupid, impulsive, weak, out of control, unhealthy, unable and unwilling to change. I didn't have a boyfriend because I was fat. I didn't dress nice because I was fat. It was an easy catch-all that meant I never had to develop any other aspect of my personality.

And then comes fat acceptance. I start reading and realize that I don't have any health problems because of my weight. Nor has being fat impaired my academic development. I'm fat because of genetics, I can't permanently lose weight because diets don't work. I realize that there is nothing wrong with being fat.

Fat acceptance is a very scary thing because if I can't blame it on being fat, that means something else is to blame. I don't have a boyfriend because I'm an aggressive and emotionally insecure bitch. I don't dress well because I have absolutely no sense of style. My system no longer works. But I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with its replacement.

When I reach my hand into the darkness, it would be nice if someone was there to grab it.

The worst part about being injured is the inability to be autonomous.