Ripping up words that I thought were important

I spent most of my weekend blessedly away from computers, though had the odd experience of checking my email in front of Allison and Nichelle while we had a little cupcake meeting, which was kindof strange. "You have a Google news alert on ____?" (fill in one of the dozens of Google news alerts I have). Not but, just an odd experience. I love when we get together, especially checking some of the numbers related to the cupcake blog as we attempt to take over the universe with it. Well, at least invade other forms of media (Two words: Cupcake Idol. See the blog for details.). We also drooled over the cookbook Crazy About Cupcakes, which really takes cupcake worship to a whole other level. I didn't think I'd seen it all when it comes to my favorite dessert, but this really blew my mind, I mean, she's got eggnog and gingerbread cupcakes! I could see Allison itching to start baking, while I just looked at the pretty pictures. I also learned that Blogger is finally going to introduce categories. Took them freaking long enough, but I'm so glad about that. Also learned that apparently this blog is worth $700, not that it's for sale. And, always lagging behind when it comes to technology (Allison has to practically browbeat me to get me on the bloglines and Flickr bandwagons, and now I can't live without them), I am going to start using Firefox. I also added some events to Google Calendar.

Then Allison and I made our way downtown to the famed Spiegeltent for the Rejection Show. We missed the beginning but caught all the performers. Now, I love that show and while it was good, I think being so far from the stage made it lose a little of its magic. Not much, though, and on October 11th its at UCB, and . . . Allison is going to get to be united with her mascot crush, Rejectee. That'll be awesome.

I also walked a lot, which felt good after being all cooped up. I'm still a little stuffy but the fresh air helped, I walked across the bridge on Saturday and Sunday, even took some photos, and kept running into people all over the city - on the street, the subway, and the bridge.

I didn't really get to my hastily scrawled (and rescrawled) to do lists, instead choosing to unearth all the CDs I could find to try to make a mix CD. I'm almost done with the CD, the first I've made on my laptop since I got it. I'm missing some CDs, well, I'm probably missing a ton of them but I thankfully can't remember most of what's not here. Sometimes I'm so tempted to dump all my belongings in a dumpster and start over. Well, not all, but all the non-clothing items, but then I start digging. It'll start with looking for a specific item, like How I Became Hettie Jones, which I still can't find, or this Mila Drumke CD I wanted to grab a song from. But in the process, I find all these other goodies that have been literally buried for years. I've lived in the same place for 6 years and I'm a packrat, to put it mildly, so trying to maneuver around and through all the junk is almost useless but I'm trying to sort through it all. I know the standard "if you throw out a bag of stuff every day it will eventually be clean" but I don't have that kind of time every day, I really only do on the weekends. So even though I really didn't make much of a dent in the mess, I dug up music by The Geraldine Fibbers (from which my subject line is borrowed, though I can't find my copy of Butch), Tsunami, Aimee Mann, Buck, Kenickie, Jale, Clem Snide, and plenty of random stuff, some of which I have no idea how it got there or why I ever bought it, but it was in that twilight overshopping really bad phase I was in during law school where I just couldn't handle anything so I bought things. I still have that impulse, and I think for me it's totally connected to overeating, overdrinking, and just letting things spiral out of control. There's a comfort in any of those because you're basically saying you don't care. You don't care about the future (or the present or the past for that matter) and so whatever you do sortof takes on this mythical no-consequences status. I have to let my rational mind go and find some reason I need to do these things, and it's hard to pull away from that and face real life where things don't tie together so neatly. I do it with overcommitment all the time, and assume that working at the last minute, my lifelong habit, will save my ass. And the good/bad thing is that most of the time it does. But plenty of times it's caught up with me and the most interesting thing about that is that it's been a relief. It's a sign that I'm in over my head and looking for any way out. Yet if that's my default, I will forever be treading water. It's why I sometimes feel like I'm not sure why or how my life has ended up where it has, and am certain it's at least as much from luck as work. Because while I work, the truth is I'm incredibly lazy. Why do something today if I could do it next week, or next month? I just have trouble getting motivated even though in my head I'm really ambitious and excited, but it's such a quick fix, a momentary high before I want to get onto the next thing. But in my old age, I'm working on it. I was looking at photos from my 30th birthday party and it feels like so long ago. This year I'll just be back from SF and LA, trying to visit with my mom, and not really looking to have a big party, just something mellow. But Comic Sex Night at In The Flesh (November 15th) is acting as my de facto birthday party/comedy show this year. (And who knew my silly little comedy blog is worthy of triple comment spam?) That feels like my reward for all the stuff I have to take care of between now and then.

I'm not sure which category's in worse shape, books or CDs, but in both, there are plenty of items I will never use and I know I have to get rid of them, but culling is hard for me. With the books, I always think there will be some use for them. I've also found random "before they were famous" writing by Brandon Holley (a fabulous old Time Out New York column about her ultra-messy desk and why she's proud of it) and a four-part conversation between Annalee Newitz, Ana Marie Cox, and two other writers in this book Third Wave Agenda all about feminism and being "male-identified." Not only do I remember buying the book at St. Marks Bookshop, and only skimming through it, it made me realize that I didn't know Annalee at the time and this was years before Gawker Media was probably even an idea in Nick Denton's head. Beyond that, their conversation is actually really fascinating and touches on issues about dressing, gender roles, sexuality and feminism in a very open way (it's a conversation between four women that was recorded). So that one's a keeper, but I am in the process of trying my best to purge.

So it was this total trip down memory lane. Pretty much all I did in law school was rack up credit card debt, buy CDs, ditch classes and go to concerts. Well, the hiding in my room didn't really start till third year, and I did start a now-defunct website for Mary Lou Lord and also her mailing list, but really, those CDs are all I have left of that time in my life, which seems like so long ago. I find it strange to say I've lived here for 10 years, that I'm old enough to have been out of college for that long. I really don't feel my age, whatever that's supposed to feel like.

I listened to a bunch of CDs while sorting and it was interesting to see which ones stopped me in my tracks. I associate so much of my favorite music with very specific times and places, and I still find it hard not to tear up when listening to Mary Lou Lord's Baby Blue. She played this CMJ show right after Elliott Smith died and was really not doing too well, and while you kindof could tell that playing the songs was cathartic in some way, it was just so intense. She can certainly emphasize one word in a line and make it just center around that.

I finally finished Robert Wilder's Daddy Needs a Drink, which I'll post more about soon, and have been reading Em & Lo's A-Z Sex Toy guide, which is really awesome. It's part of a series they're doing and the next one's called Em & Lo's Kink Tank, which I think is a pretty cool title. I'm learning about all sorts of fascinating sex toys I'd never heard of, and I visit sex toy sites fairly frequently.

That's about it, aside from getting to shop for adorable baby clothes and making my virgin visit to Trader Joe's. Probably Sunday night before they close is not the best time to shop there, because I was getting claustrophobic, though I was impressed and want to check it out another time when it's not such a madhouse. Yes, this post was long and rambling because I'm up past my bedtime and am still a little spacey from my cold. I also found my yet-to-be worn "spank me" panties which I think I shall wear for my photo shoot. That's another thing that's a little sad - all the sex toys sadly lingering around, which perhaps I should give away since it's been years since they've seen any action. But again, I will keep them (I'm talking about paddles and riding crops here, I do have some toys that I use but I think it's time to update with a little variety) and hope that eventually I shall have a use for them. Which reminds me of something funny; someone wrote to me and asked if I've given up masturbation. I didn't think I needed to articulate that but, um, NO.

My column was actually in part about kindof getting my life together and trying to be an adult, dragging my childish, lazy ass kicking and screaming sometimes, but also about not settling. The one song I listened to that really made me stop and almost cry was "Deathly" by Aimee Mann. But instead of constantly trying to figure out where I've fucked up (which I do anyway), I would just rather wait to find someone who actually likes me for me. Who doesn't find me intimidating or overwhelming or whatever other bullshit adjective people want to throw my way. That's how I am, I'm kindof intense and I get excited and I know, I know, everyone, every dating book ever says to not be excited, or at least, heaven forbid, don't show it. I know. Kiss of death and all that. I try, but I also know that if I were never excited I may as well just not exist. I don't think it's inherently bad or good, but it's about finding people to include in my life who can appreciate that, instead of basically throwing myself and my excitement at those who don't. So it's actually not really like the Aimee Mann song at all, and yet I fall for "the heat of your charm," as she puts it, every time. But anyway, I must write about guys and sex toys, and next weekend I get to go spy on a rather unusual porn film. I'll take being a sex spy and professional voyeur over getting my heart broken over and over again any day.