.my arm hurts.

4 days ago I went to the doctor and had blood drawn.  It didn’t hurt when the guy actually put the needle in and drew the blood, but about a minute after he was done my arm seized up and started REALLY hurting.  I’m kind of a wimp, so this made me lightheaded and stressed that I wouldn’t be able to drive home, but after sitting outside my car with my head between my knees for about 20 minutes, I was okay – just couldn’t use my right arm.  My muscles were weak and it hurt to even move it.  I’m not sure why I didn’t go back in and talk to the doctor about it, but it seemed like something that would pass.

Four days later and it’s still aching, like, wake me up in the middle of the night aching.  Grr.  Finn says, based on my bruise and the pain, that the guy must have both blown my vein and hit a nerve or a tendon in the process.  This, I have discovered, does not make for a very happy pom.  In fact, it makes for kind of a grumpy, wince-y pom.

So that’s this weekend’s news.  Also, I saw A Serious Man last night with Cali and some folks.  No one I was there with liked it much, but I thought it was pretty good.  Dark, kinda depressing, but in a funny way.  (I mean, it is the Coen brothers.)  The very last image of the movie was really striking, hit on a very kind of primal fear, so I think that at least is going to stick with me for a while.

Before the movie we had dinner, where I managed not only to learn what curling is (i.e. one of the funniest sports I’ve ever seen…  the brooms, are you kidding me?) but to impress people with my extensive knowledge of both Twilight and Miley Cyrus.  It’s amazing the things that seep into your consciousness while you aren’t looking.  (Though, to be fair, I did make the choice to read all of the Twilight books, but I stand by that decision as it has afforded me the ability to critique the shit out of it using ACTUAL examples instead of the more common I-hate-what-teenyboppers-love critique heard elsewhere.  Also, they’re incredibly easy to read.)

Today was gorgeous.  I had brunch with QS and I’m kind of regretting that we didn’t sit outside on one of the very last nice days before our long New England winter hits.  I had this vague idea that we might go for a walk, but instead we went to my place and watched several episodes of Buffy.  We finished season 5, in fact.  Crazy.  (It was pointed out to me, yesterday, by Cali, that I am kind of dating Buffy in Finn’s absence.  I figure if a fictional vampire slayer is all she has to worry about, we’re doing okay.)  :)

Anyway.  Wish I’d been outside more, but we did have the windows open, so…

Oh!  The weekend’s other news is that after purchasing many (many) plane and train tickets, I am officially going to DC for Rev’s birthday, then to Philly for Thanksgiving, and down south for Christmas.  Grant – who’s in DC doing an internship at the moment, coincidentally enough – and I already have plans to take a ton of ridiculous pictures.  This has renewed my lust for a particular  camera I have my eye on but probably wouldn’t use enough to warrant buying it, sigh.  (Something you may or may not know about me: I have a tendency to lust after strange things sometimes – these are another current fascination – and if the lustiness lasts long enough, I end up caving and buying.  Hence, these, which are, I must say, awesome.)

Okay, I’m babbling.  I should go figure out dinner.  Which, by the by, I have been successfully cooking!  I’m no chef, but I’ve got some staples down and my kitchen confidence is up.  So far so good.

Off I go!

.on writing and not writing.

I’ve not written here lately.  I’ve been hyper-aware of this; I think about it often.  I’m ignoring my sweet pomegranate space, I say to myself.  She’s going to be pissed when I get back. (Because apparently she has a temper when she’s been neglected, not that I blame her.)

And it’s funny, because I’ve been writing – elsewhere – more than I ever have before.  I dove headfirst into the book, and I haven’t looked back.  It’s been a godsend – something keeping me anchored in this vast chaotic hopeless place of unemployment, where the temptation to sit on the couch and watch Law and Order marathons all day is sometimes overwhelming.  I quickly discovered, post-layoff, that not only am I happier when I’m contributing and being productive,  but in fact the idea of having nothing of importance to do cracks open a door leading to a gaping black hole of fear that’s always been lurking just beneath the surface of my consciousness.

Certainly it’s a uniquely human trait, this belief that we are all special snowflakes who were put on this earth to do Things of Importance.  And I admit, I buy into it – depending on one’s definition of importance (and mine is admittedly wide) I do, actually, believe that everyone is here for some purpose, no matter how seemingly trivial.  In my view, everyone has the opportunity to contribute something significant, and I am particularly touched by small moments of meaning that indicate a significance beyond the surface.  The whole random acts of kindness, senseless acts of beauty mantra has become a bumper sticker cliche by now, but when it does happen I tend to get a little weepy.  (Yea yea, welcome to being a Cancer.  I’m sensitive and I own it.)

I wouldn’t have expected sudden joblessness to make me feel cut off from this cycle of meaning, but it really did noticeably amplify my fear of my own insignificance.  Suddenly that thing to which I had chosen to contribute – my work, which was so important to me – was gone, and… well, now what?

So I’m writing now, as often as I can, because it gives me a sense of purpose.  And sure, I realize that it’s not like my writing is going to save the world.  All writing – maybe all art – is somewhat self-indulgent.  I’ll never forget Orson Scott Card telling a lecture-hall full of high school writers that we’d better be responsible writers, hardworking writers, we’d better take our craft seriously because, and I remember how incredulous he sounded, we’re asking people to pay us money to tell them stories.  He’s made his living that way, and he still seemed somewhat mystified by the whole idea.  And I’m right there with him.  (On that issue.  On his politics, well, not so much.)

But right now, I don’t write because I want to save the world.  I write because I want to save myself.  The feeling of not having anything to contribute has shaken me far more deeply than any of the other collateral costs of being laid off – the rejection letters, the financial woes.  It’s not so much that I want a job; I just want to have something that gives my actions meaning.  So I write because I love it, yes, and I write because I love the goal, and I write because there’s meaning in it.

Because I am a special snowflake, dammit, and I have things to say.

.about that last… and banana bread!.

Just needed to work through some things in that last post, stuff I’m not ready to share yet (or probably ever) but I figured I’d password protect it just in case I someday changed my mind and this blog became a discussion of a very different kind.  So, sorry, I kind of hate when people do that on their blogs but this is my only journaling-space at the moment, so there you have it.

But I did want to publicly announce that I made banana bread today.  This is, ladies and gentlemen, the Very First Loaf of Bread of Any Kind I Have Ever Baked (and, other than from-the-box brownies and cupcakes and whatnot, really the First Thing Period I Have Ever Baked)!!!  Oh yes, it’s happening, the transformation is well underway…

Otherwise, I have just been writing more cover letters than any human being should reasonably be expected to write, writing for pleasure a lot to make up for it, catching up with old pals (including the Divine Ms. Olive, who came to visit for a few days last weekend and made me rather nostalgic for our days as roomies, when it was normal – even expected – to find us parked on the couch for hours at a time devouring youtube videos and America’s Next Top Model marathons…) and, of course, hanging with the kittens.  Ophelia says hi.

(She LOVES to be held like a baby, it’s so weird.)

Protected: .(quietly) putting it out into the universe.

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.home again home again.

OR,

Some Random Thoughts:

• We’re back from Hawaii!  We had a fantastic time staying with Finn’s brother and sister-in-law and our baby niece (who, at a year old, perhaps can’t really be called a baby anymore, but…)  There was lots of beach and pool time, as well as a lot of cooking and eating and listening to music and hanging out and babysitting and family time.  We also learned pretty much every word to Ziggy Marley’s children’s album, to which the beebs is mildly addicted, and discovered that playing the Ting Tings on repeat and dancing with her is the only foolproof way to get her to nap when her Aunties are babysitting.  :)

Ziggy, playing my favorite song at the White House Easter Egg Roll

Me squinting into the sun, as Finn attemps to make the picture Facebook-Inappropriate

(And yes, I’m still that pale, even after all the beach time)

• Current addiction of the moment: Buffy.  Why didn’t I listen to everyone who told me that this series was amazing and I HAD to watch it like NOW???  It’s so cheesy and ridiculous, but also deals well with some pretty heavy stuff – I laugh, I cry, I oogle Sarah Michelle Gellar lookin’ good killin’ demons.  Aaaaand I may have just purchased the entire series off ebay despite the fact that I have no money.  I’m only halfway through Season 3 – and I will dropkick anyone who tries to give anything more away than what I’ve already picked up simply from having similarly-obsessed friends – but I can already tell this is one of those shows that’s going to go into heavy rotation on the DVD-as-TV lineup.  See also: Scrubs, Sex and the City, Arrested Development.  (Side note: my context for SMG all these years hasn’t been as Buffy, but as Kendall Hart on All My Children – yes, the ABC soap – to which I was addicted in middle school.  Apparently she manages to worm her way into several of my addictions.  Could that be because she’s AWESOME?  Is it apparent yet that I am nursing a major Buffy-crush?  Yes?  Good.)  Anyway, my advice: watch it.  Like NOW.
• Calling all foodies: I want to learn to cook.  For those of you who don’t know me personally, this is kind of an epic statement.  As in, perhaps I should state it again in bold: I, pomegranate, want to learn to cook.  Please understand, I hate hate HATE cooking – I never do it, and, thanks to the fact that I’ve been lucky enough to have a series of girlfriends/roommates who enjoy cooking, I’ve never really had to.  But Finn is going out of town for 2 months beginning on Monday, so my options at this point seem to be cook, starve, or microwave everything.  For 2 months.  Bleh.  The former seems the only realistic option, and I suppose unemployment will ensure that I have plenty of time to look up recipes and try and make it work.  So.  If you have any recipes that are easy-for-beginners and delicious, consider this a polite solicitation of said recipes!  Feel free to leave suggestions in the comments or email me at pomegranateinkpen [at] gmail [dot] com.  No particular dietary restrictions, other than the fact that my stomach doesn’t particularly appreciate very spicy foods.  Whee!
• Yes, you read that correctly, Finn is going out of town for two (2) MONTHS on Monday.  She’s off to do a baby-catching internship – a really amazing opportunity for her – that happens to be thousands of miles from here.  2,398 to be exact, not that I’m counting.  I am really thrilled for her that she has the opportunity, and she’s going to come back having learned so much and having had some really amazing experiences, but I’m still super bummed about the 2 months apart.  We’re going to Skype a lot, and we’ve got some plans in place to try and stay connected, and I know 2 months isn’t really that long in the grand scheme of things, but… particularly while unemployed, I think it’s going to feel like a long time.
• I’ve decided to spend this time of unemployment getting back to some things I used to do often and lost somewhere along the way.  Like spending quiet time alone.  Like going on long walks.  And, most especially, like writing.  My soon-to-be-sister-in-law – that is, Finn’s sister-in-law – and I both love writing and don’t do it enough, so we cooked up a little plan to work together on goal-setting and holding one another accountable.  Of course, I’m unemployed and she has a 14 month old and a job, so obviously we’re going to be setting different goals, but I’m really excited about getting back to my Writing Self and dedicating some real time to her.  (This blog, I should note, is not really a place for my Writing Self.  I write here more like I would write in an email – I’m not exactly sure why, but this has never really felt like the kind of space where I can be creative as opposed to just journaling thoughts and events.  Well, I suppose I’ve thrown in the occasional poem or two, but overall that’s not really what this blog has turned out to be for me.  So it’ll be good to create a place for that part of me to live.)
• It’s 2:30pm and I’m jet lagged and still in my jammies and definitely have errands to run.  So, off I go.

.join the circus?.

So, turns out if I can’t be a public interest attorney, apparently I don’t want to be an attorney at all.  It literally took one monster.com search for me to figure out that there is not a single legal job out there unrelated to public interest that I am even remotely interested in.  More than that: the thought of working at any of them makes me slightly queasy.  At least I know what my calling is, I suppose.  No idea what to do in the meantime but apply and see where the universe takes me.

You know how in the beginning of Lois Lowry’s “The Giver” Jonas is searching for the right word to describe his feelings?  That pretty much sums up my last few weeks.  I’m not… and I’m not quite… maybe I’m… no…

Jonas ends up settling on apprehensive. Discombobulated might be the best fit for me.  I’m all over the place, a little lost, not unhappy, just unsettled.

The past few weeks have been some of the strangest in recent memory – I’m a Cancer, and we very much prize our routine, place great value in our surroundings being orderly and serene.  That’s all out the window, obviously, but I’m working hard to take it in stride.  I haven’t cried once since we moved, in fact.  And I’ve been sleeping well (though waking at ungodly early hours.  I think it’s because we finally live in a place that isn’t shrouded in tree-shade – the sight of the sun whispers me into consciousness each morning.  It’s not a bad thing).

This must be what it feels like to be caught by a safety net.  I’ll take discombobulated over homeless any day of the week.

I am very lucky.

We’re moved in, getting a little closer to settled on the homefront every day.  So the pictures are being hung, the laundry folded, and the kittens are adjusting.  I had brunch yesterday with Cali, dinner with QS.  Tomorrow I’m having coffee with Grant (so nicknamed for the Civil War general, and I hope he appreciates it) who I haven’t seen in forever and who is moving to DC soon as part of the mass exodus to the District which seems to be happening in the last few years.  Among my pals, anyway.  He has requested some sort of crazy adventure that I can later blog about.

Because obviously my blog is so full of adventure!  Laundry!  First-time unemployment!  What will she do next, ladies and gentlemen?!?  :)

.a thank you note to finn.

[Today is Finn's birthday.  In the midst of everything we've got going on - we're moved! and unpacking... - I wanted to take a moment to thank her for being born and for, y'know, everything else along the way.]

Dear Finn,

Thank you for your love.  Thank you for each moment that you choose to spend with me.  Thank you for deciding to multiply those moments into forever.

Thank you for being such a motherfucking badass.  Thanks for being an amazing example of what it means to be dedicated, what it means to work your ass off, stay up all night, get shit done.  Thank you for not settling, not being satisfied with almost or just-about.  Thanks for getting riled up, getting me riled up, for being the answer to my oft-counseled caution.  No, not the answer – the compliment.

Thanks for all the compliments.  Thank you for making me feel beautiful, treasured.   Thank you for that look you give me sometimes, like you won some prize in a contest you didn’t know you’d entered.  (I know, I’m as baffled as you are, though I’m pretty sure of who won what, exactly, here).

Thank you for the nicknames, the thousand in-jokes we can’t explain, our shorthand, all those times I’m unable to put something into words and you just know, or you don’t know but it doesn’t matter, you’re with me anyway.  Thank you for the fact that there are so many conversations I can’t complete without the accompaniment of the whole of our many memories.  Thank you for laughing at yourself, and for trying to teach me how to do the same.  Thank you for taking me just-seriously-enough, for indulging me without spoiling me.  (Okay: mostly without spoiling me).  Thank you for that mischievous grin and for how frequently you wield it.

Thank you for sunflowers.  Thank you for silly groggy impromptu proposals at 7am in our kitchen.  In retrospect, they are the only kind of proposals I’d want.

Thank you for constantly push-pulling-stretching-testing-aching-breaking-bending me into growing into a better person.  Thank you for calling me out on my bullshit and telling me truths when it counts.  When it doesn’t, thank you for the practical jokes.  They drive me crazy, but you always keep me guessing.

Thank you for your fierce independence, and for respecting mine.  For knowing that we are infinitely stronger as two individuals, bringing all of these gifts and lessons and strengths and weaknesses to one another, than we ever could be if we became one indistinct “we.”  Thank you for encouraging me endlessly, and for letting me support you.  I am so lucky to get to see the thousand tiny ways you have changed the world already, and grateful to play the smallest part in that.

Thank you for being bold enough to kiss me that night.  Thank you for being so utterly, hypnotically charming.  Thank you for that first “I love you,” which tilted my world ever so slightly into this amazing thing we are now.  Thank you for getting lost in the woods with me when it really mattered.  Thank you for putting in the time, the effort, the work to keep us running smoothly.   Or, failing that, thank you for sticking with it when it would be easier not to.

Thank you for taking my hand in the middle of a crowded grocery store when my blood sugar is low and I’m consumed with murderous rage.  (You really are quite brave, you know).  Thank you for introducing me to whisky, Dolly Parton, and a rudimentary understanding of Indonesian history.  Also to your parents; that was big.

Thank you for putting up with me even when I’m a gooey, lovestruck romantic – like now, for instance – even though it embarrasses you to no end.  And thank you for a thousand more things I’d never be able to list (at least not without making you blush): the immeasurable comfort of your sleeping frame beside me at 3am, the way your hair curls when it’s raining, certain things you have said to me in our quiet spaces that I will never forget.

You are the kind of girl who makes me want to write long, rambling love letters.  For that – for you – I am so, so thankful.  Happy birthday, bella.

love,

me

.we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a freak out.

Tomorrow is my last day of work.

Two days after that we’re moving.

I found out yesterday that I didn’t get a job for which I was incredibly well-qualified.

I also found out yesterday that a guy I went to middle and high school with died very unexpectedly.

In sum, I don’t like change and there has been a lot of change, upheaval, disappointment, and facing of my own mortality and that of the people I love, all within the span of about a week.  Oh, also the cats are panicked and peeing all over everything.

I try hard not to wish away my days, even the bad ones, because every moment is so precious.  I try hard not to feel like a failure when I don’t get the things that I want and work hard for.  I try not to waste time worrying – obsessing? – about whether and when and how the people I dearly love will pass away.  I try not to want to kill my sweetly tyrannous baby kittens.

And yet.  I am ready for this week to be over, I am ready to be moved in, I am ready to have said my goodbyes at work and shut the door on that period of my life, pleasant though it was.  I am ready to stop being anxious so I won’t fall prey to my mega-anxiety-producing-triggers (unexpected deaths being a major, major trigger for me).

I’m ready to let go and let myself be happy again.  I’m ready to take responsibility for my own joy.

When I was in high school, one of my best friends and I both kept small notebooks with us at all time.  We called them our Happy Books.  They were filled with an ongoing list of things that made us happy – pictures, inside jokes, people, events, memories… I’m sure half of it wouldn’t make sense to me now, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been as content with my life as when I kept a Happy Book.  Seems like it might be time to start that back up again.  So for tonight…

10 Things That Make Me Happy Right Now

1. My shiny new apartment

2. Numbered, color-coded moving boxes

3. The fact that my haircat loves me so much that she hates that I’m typing this right now, because she really wants to be sitting ON ME

4. Brunch with Rev

5. Victory over The Man: Comcast gave me an amazing deal on cable when I called to tell them I had to go to basic because I’d been laid off.  Everything I have now for half the price.  Ahmazing.

6. Finn’s freckles

7. Air conditioning

8. The story that has been floating around in my mind, waiting to get out

9. Living one train stop away from Cali beginning Saturday

10. The possibilities that await me now that I’ve got free time again…

.toothless texting.

Last Thursday I had my wisdom teeth out.  They used conscious sedation for the procedure – essentially I was very, very drunk (slash high?) through the whole thing.  I could follow directions at the time, and I was responsive, but I mostly just laid there and listened to my iPod, and I remember very little of what happened.  However, when I sobered up, I checked my phone to find the following text conversation had taken place.  I don’t remember a word of it.

Me: Love you

Finn: Love you more

[Doctor inserts the IV]

Me: Im fryeeling so drunk whoa wow thus syff

Finn: Um should you be texting?

Me: I am all connectr to wires andvnoy scared

Finn: Breathe!!  You will be fine

Me: Not scared

Finn: Not scared!  Oh!  Excellent!

Me: They can do ehatevverbr they want

Me: Texing is so hard

Finn: You’re doing it well!

Finn: Whatcha thinking about?

Me: The lives that the trees have

Finn: That’s deep stuff, why aren’t they doing anything yet?

Me: I love yuiiu

Me: Has tonn dink in

Finn: Um

Me: My yonhueb is huge

Me: Sleepy

Me: Tongue

Finn: Take a nap

Me: Gonna rest wishbyiu were here

Finn: Me too I hate those fuckers [They hadn't let Finn come into the room with me, and she was not happy]

Me: I am just being borin I’m numb and dozing and tring not to tell secrets

.ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

Apologies if this post ends up being erratic and/or making no sense – I’m doped up on percocet but figured I’d give the blog thing a go anyway.

So.  Where were we before I fell off the face of the planet?  It felt for a while there that everything was floating around and no decisions were ever going to be made about all the things I was waiting on, but I’ve finally got some concrete plans!  First, I was finally given my official layoff notice, which was actually rather anti-climatic considering I’d known it was coming for so long.  That said, I found out that my employer is going to cover the cost of my health insurance premiums for 2 full months after I leave, which I had no idea would happen, so at least that’s a little of the weight off.

Second, I had a job interview a few days ago.  I can’t say too much about it, but I walked out feeling like it went well and I at least knew I did my best.  From there, we’ll see if I happen to be what they’re looking for.

…I just fell asleep at my keyboard.  Good drugs.

Right, so, I am feeling good on the job search front thus far, but of course there are always so many factors that go into why an employer hires one person instead of another (or in this case, one person instead of any one of the other 400 applicants) so I’m trying to get myself into headspace where I won’t beat myself up over not getting it if I don’t.

Third, Finn and I are officially moving at the end of this month.  We are super excited, our new apartment is very close to the city, public transportation, and our friends.  Living in the ‘burbs for a year was nice, and I think it was good for Finn to see that she wouldn’t end up killing herself out here.  There are definitely some things I’m going to miss, like the awesome library 5 minutes away and having a yard (even though we didn’t really use it, since the weather has been so rainy/muggy all summer) and a driveway (no fighting over on-street parking!) and a garage (no shoveling snow off the car!) but like I said, the new place is gorgeous and convenient and overall I’m really excited to be back in the city.  It’s also cheaper (not the rent itself, which is the same, but heating and cooling will be cheaper, we won’t have to pay for yardwork, we won’t have to take our own trash to the dump, we won’t have to shovel our own driveway, etc. – saving us money and time).  Plus, Cali is moving back so she’ll be right around the corner!

I had my wisdom teeth out this morning.  I had been ridiculously nervous about the process – I am not one for letting go of control, so the idea of getting drugs that were going to make me so loopy that I wouldn’t mind that I was having 4 teeth ripped out of my head scared me more than the actual procedure itself.  (Though it didn’t help that people kept telling me horror stories either – what’s up with that, people?  So uncool.)  But it went fine, I actually LOVED the drugs, and I just dozed and listened to my ipod (“teethout mix”) while he was doing his thing.  The groggy, bloody aftermath wasn’t so fun, but once I got home and Finn tucked me in, drugged me, and made sure I was covered in ice, things improved.  I proceeded to sleep through 3 movies, and now I’m actually feeling close to human (though still resembling a hamster, no worries).

Oh dear, I think I’m rambling.

When I add up everything that has/had to be done this month, it’s a little overwhelming: I have to get all of my cases at work ready to transfer to other attorneys and do all the million other closing-out things that need to be done when one leaves a job; I have to go on interviews and really get into the job search process; I have to pack up the whole house (and may I add that Finn is out of town at school for 2 weeks this month, so who do you think is going to be doing most of the packing??) and move into the new place; and I had to have a scary chimpunk-face-transplant surgery.  Maybe it’s more than the drugs making me so tired right now.

I wish I were still at the beach.  That trip deserves a proper post of its own, really.  I had so much fun, it was so awesome to see Rev’s place, meet her pup, and traipse around DC with her, and then road trip down to the beach.  There I turned slightly more flesh-colored (didn’t even burn much – score!) and got to hang with the family (and especially with my brother’s girlfriend’s son, who’s 3 and LOVES me) and spend quality time with everyone.  I slept and lounged, read, played on the beach, ate about 3 times more than I normally do of heavy, greasy, delicious southern foods, and really just quite enjoyed myself.  Told my siblings about the engagement and they were thrilled, which was sweet.

Seriously rambling.  I can’t think of a way to end this and I’m feeling too woozy to bother reading it over.  Oh, wait, here’s a good way to end – this applies both to my whining about my teeth hurting and also about the million things I have to do this month.  As my Grandma would say: