"Why shouldn't we stroll through life on our own little clouds? I plan to bounce around like a kid for a long time, thank you."

That's from Jason Mraz's most recent journal posting on his website. I read his online journal quite frequently, because I have a ridiculous crush on him. And it helps pass time at work. So yesterday I traveled to his website, and saw that he had just announced a concert in Detroit, for late May. I promptly hopped up and down in office, peed in my pants a little bit, and then bought two tickets. And then I realized that Matt Nathanson is opening for him, and I got even more excited. So I'm probably going to swoon and/or explode.

I talked to one of my oldest friends in the world yesterday on the phone, for the first time in way too long. His relationship of a bajillion years is on the rocks... and it is probably the beginning of the end. Ok 'bajillion' is clearly a gross overstatement, but when you're 22 years old, a 2 or 3 year relationship is pretty much equivalent to a bajillion years, if you ask me. But to be honest, he deserves to be with a saint, or Angelina Jolie, or some other other-worldly example of perfection. Joe. What a guy. It's a shame that I've known him for so long and am therefore incapable of seeing him as anything other than a brother figure. Because I would definitely swoop in while he's vulnerable.

Yesterday must have been international have long conversations with people you never talk to day. Because after I talked with Joe, I spoke with the person I mentioned yesterday who is responsible for ruining James Taylor for me. We never talk anymore, because his girlfriend (well, ex-girlfriend now) wouldn't allow it. Because she's kinda batty. So it was nice to talk to him and have an actual conversation that went beyond the standard "so.... what's up?" that we had been limited to.

I keep thinking about Portland. About the rain, and the moss that grows everywhere that it possibly can. Every rock, every tree is covered in it. I think I would be really happy there. The climate would suit my temperament, I think.

As I walked to work this morning, I shivered and watched my breath cloud up in front of me. I silently cursed the chill in the air, disbelieving the difference between today and just a few days ago when it was 75 degrees. Then I thought, no - enjoy this, because this time next week you will be in 90 degree hell-hotness building a cinder block house. 90 degrees, people. That's very warm.

The first night we are sightseeing! We are going to a volcano! I'm never coming back.

Gearing up for my trip to Guatemalost

When I picture myself toiling under the near-equatorial sun in Guatemala in a week, I basically see Kate Austen, sweat-stained and totally smokin' hot. Yes, this is unrealistic. and I realize that I will not look at all attractive or ripped whilst covered in grit and sweat like Evangeline Lilly does. But a girl can dream, can't she?

I have mentioned Evangeline Lilly in two posts already. That's kinda weird, right? Speaking of 'Lost', I definitely had a 'Lost' dream last night, featuring a few of the characters and a creepy, mysterious plot. It was probably induced by the Malaria pill I took on Saturday - one of the side effects is weird dreams. Some other brands of Malaria pills include psychosis and homicidal urges as side effects, so if a 'Lost' dream is all I have to endure I will consider myself lucky.

Meanwhile, it's nearly impossible to get anything done at work. Even harder than usual to focus or spend my time productively - so you know it's bad.

This weekend was graduation, and we had a potluck lunch at our house with all of the families of the graduates. There was large quantities of food, and large quantities leftover, meaning that all of the awkward mingling with extended relatives was worth it. I scooted out of the party early on Saturday to head to Grosse Pointe to see Marge, my best friend/favorite human being. She lives in the pacific northwest, and I only get to see her about once or twice a year. She was in for the weekend, forced by her family to be home for her older brother's completely unexpected community musical theater debut. It was nice seeing her family... I basically grew up at her house, so it's strange to be back there as an adult. The oddest thing was drinking coffee there and cooking breakfast for ourselves. Her mom would have been happy to do it for us, but we were in a hurry so we scrambled our own eggs. I've been eating meals there for the past 12 years, but this one really made me feel old. Hard to explain.

I actually cried when I saw Marge. She's just the best. And after a long talk, I'm reconsidering my choice of city for my big move. Strongly reconsidering. Seeing her and talking to her just made me feel good, like I felt when I went to visit her for my senior spring break. Not just good, but somehow refreshed, or centered, or attuned to how I really want my life to be. And if I could potentially feel that way all time by moving to Portland and living with her, I should probably do that.

It's noon already?

I'm going to see Kate Nash on Wednesday, and I am beyond excited. I started listening to her last spring, probably just about a year ago. I listened to her incessantly then, so all of her music brings back all of my post-graduation excitement/summery good feelings. Isn't it wonderful how certain albums/artists/songs can become so connected to distinct time periods? Also bad sometimes though, because I am only just now able to listen to James Taylor after his entire milieu was ruined by the fact that I saw him in concert on a perfect summer night at an outdoor amphitheater with my high school boyfriend. I was sickeningly in love, so when things ended miserably and my poor little heart was broken, naturally I took it out on James Taylor. Ha. Such a silly girl.

4 hours down, 4 to go.

I just have to say that I bought a dress yesterday. A girly, frilly, pale yellow dress that I have every intention of wearing to work sometime soon. Now if that isn't a sign of my need for radical change and/or of the apocalypse, I don't know what is.

Natural history

I'm at the museum of natural history right now, covering their 'circulation desk' while the student worker takes her lunch break. I use the term circulation desk very loosely, as the museums library is really just two rooms with bare pipes running overhead and large metal shelves with unorganized stacks of paper and books.

This is probably the coolest building on campus. It's like stepping back in time, especially in the areas that aren't open to the public. The doors are all the original ones that came with the building, you can tell from the brass handles and thick, dark wood they are made of.

With all of the renovations that have taken place on campus, this building seems to have been miraculously sidestepped. I think it's great. Biomedical sciences can have their trillion dollar buildings. The people who hang out in these buildings have a penchant for mustiness anyway, I think.

The weather outside is blowing my mind. There is a hot wind blowing that should not be happening in April. But flowers are blooming, and lawns are green. I'm looking out at a beautiful dogwood tree that is dripping with its pink-white flowers. Just lovely.

I just got a phone call from my best friend in the world, and it wasn't good. And suddenly I'm not in the blogging mood.

Off to finish my workday.

Tedium... sounds like a prescription med, but it's actually my job description

The task ahead of me today is changing the public records of all of the books that will be on reserve at the Biological Station so that they say "Spring 08" instead of "Spring 07." Thus, I am hiding in my office, putting it off.

My monitor at home is completely busted. I turn it on, it flickers for a couple of seconds (just long enough for me to see the crazy hot picture of Evangeline Lilly that is my wallpaper) and then it goes black. In the 3.5 years I have owned this computer, this is the only problem I have encountered - and I take pride in that. But I have no idea how to get it fixed.

This is why I need a boyfriend. Because this will probably go for a long time without getting fixed, because I don't need my home computer. Just as I have gone months and months without a screen in my bedroom window. And half of my curtain rod hanging off of my wall because one of the screws popped out. I could very easily take care of these things myself. But I just don't care to. And boys like to do things.

Speaking of boyfriends, suddenly all of my housemates have boyfriends. Even the crazy ones. It's very strange, and it makes me feel like a creepy old cat lady who lives on the third floor.

But this computer malfunction is good, I think. I've been feeling a little too technology-addicted lately (she typed furiously into her blog ). I hate that I sit at a computer all day at work, and then come home and automatically sit down at my computer and do the same stupid things online that I was doing at work in order to pass the time.

I'm reading this book called "Against Happiness", and it's all about this author's struggle to accept the fact that he just isn't one of the shiny happy masses. Definitely something I can relate to. But it's also just amplifying my pessimism, which isn't a good thing at a time in my life when I'm trying to decide what exactly will come next. Much better to be hopeful and positive at times like these, I would think.

Sometimes I look down, at realize that what I'm wearing is terribly inappropriate for work. Much more cleave on display that I expected. But, this does play in to my grand scheme to get fired from this job for something awesome, like sexual harassment. If I'm going to leave anyway, might as well go out in style. And by 'in style' I mean 'enveloped by pending sexual harassment litigation and retraining orders.' Naturally.

Graduation is on Saturday. And consequently, I feel weird, and old, and kind of miserable. You know, I think it's this time of year. Something about the pervasive feeling of things coming to an end, maybe. For at least the past three years I have spent a few days in the early spring staring serious life crises right in their beady little eyes. Something tells me that this trend will continue for years to come, and that I ought to just get used to it.

I'm off to take the airs with my roommate, she's stopping by to visit me and take a stroll. Then, I will get back to my dull, meaningless, utterly routine day.

(cue Debbie Downer theme song.)

I, as a relatively smart person, didn't really start getting irony until somewhere near the age of 20. I distinctly remember sitting in my AP Lit class in high school and saying something to the tune of "irony and satire just always go right over my head" aloud.

So, what makes people think that little girls would catch on to the supposed irony of this?

Thank God finals are almost over here. The library will shortly go back to a tidy, quiet place. I am very excited for this.

Also, while I'm thanking mysterious forces of the universe, glory be to whatever caused the plumbing on the second floor of this building to break. As a result, any staff members from the second floor who need to use a bathroom or drinking fountain are forced to go to a different floor.
And a certain staff member of a certain hippie persuasion (...sigh...) has decided that the third floor will be his choice for building facilities. And he came over and had an entire conversation with me yesterday, for the first time ever. Call me a twelve year old girl, but it's these little things that get me through the day.

You know... maybe it took me so long to understand the concept of irony because when I actually was a twelve year old girl, Alanis Morrisette completely misguided me with her song "Ironic". There are some very poor examples of irony given in that song. It's more of a song made up of instances of really bad luck. I'm just saying - if there are 10,000 spoons when all I need is a knife, that's just outrageous and damn frustrating, but not ironic.

Hey, at least I have that song stuck in my head now.

Yesterday at my weekly meeting with my boss, she told me that I have more potential than I know and that not only could I one day end up being her boss, but that she would happily report to me.

Naturally, the only response I could come up with was a nervous giggle. Accepting compliments is not a skill of mine. It was wonderful to hear that, though. Left me hovering 4-6" above the ground, because my boss is an enormously smart woman that I really look up to.

Although, I can't help but cling to that sliver of insecurity (it's deeply embedded, I think, too deeply to ever be plucked out) that assures me that any minute now my boss and everyone else will look at me and in one crystallizing second realize that I don't know what I'm doing. That I'm still unqualified for this job and still very young.

But that moment hasn't happened yet (I hope), so if I can continue to dupe them for a couple more months I will be in the clear. Sunny California is looking more and more like my future home each day.

"I was telling one of my friends that working in the library is kind of like living in a Samuel Beckett novel. There are all these people that came before us in these jobs, and they probably never really understood why there were here, just like we will never understand why we are here.

And eventually we'll lose our humanity just like they did, and we'll be replaced by others just like us."

Nothing like the most perfect analogy ever created to start my day off. Big thanks to Justin (probably my only like-minded compatriot in the library system) for his morning visits and saying awesome things like that/talking to me about 'Lost'.

Oh Tuesday, the lamest day of the week. It really has nothing going for it. Last weekend is, by now, a memory, and next weekend is nowhere in sight.

If I were a man...

I gave our waiter at lunch a big tip, only because he was cute and he smiled at me as he gave us our check.

As a matter of fact, the service was pretty sub-par.

If I were a man, I'd be a total pig. But since I'm a woman, I can get away with this sort of backward thinking. Ha! I love it when a double standard swings in my favor for a change.

The Garfield Debate

It being Monday and all... I need to solve this Garfield debate that took place on Saturday night.

Everyone knows that Garfield hates Mondays. That is cultural common knowledge. Everyone also knows that he loves lasagna. And that he hates Odie, and that he thinks that John Arbuckle is kind of a loser (man, I really wish that I could have remembered John's last night when I was a few drinks deep on Saturday - that would have been impressive).

But what most people don't know about Garfield is that he loves coffee. Because most people have only a cursory knowledge of Garfield. But I have read many a Garfield comic strip, because I feel that Garfield is the fictional character that is most similar to me. I need to win this one.

This weekend was fantastic. The first of many graduation celebrations to come, no doubt. Just because I graduated a year ago doesn't mean that I can't celebrate with this year's graduates!

Considering I spent all of Friday counting down the minutes until the end of the day, I'm going to have to actually do something productive at work today. Does extensive Garfield research count as something productive? It should.

Once in a while it crosses my mind that when I move away at the end of this summer there is a good chance that I will never see any of these people again (save for the few that I will move away with). It's sad, but mostly it's invigorating. To know that you can stuff some boxes with your earthly possessions, hit the road and start over.

I can be a vagabond if I want. I can be in perpetual motion, stopping only to wrestle with a rattlesnake in the desert or drink a Budweiser on the banks of a Louisiana river.

I actually did drink a Budweiser on the banks of a Louisiana river once. The rived faded in to a large swamp. I remember walking around this property and walking down this long, skinny dock and that led you out to the swamp. At then end of the dock you could stand there and know that the murky green surrounding you had been the same, murky and green, forever. It was spooky and damp, and like being in a different world. It was the end of August, and the people who lived on this tiny back road spent all day sitting outside, soaking up the humidity and talking. Small town livin'.

I just got lost in my memory of that place for a minute or two, and it will probably be the highlight of my day. Depressing, eh? But the sushi I plan to eat for lunch will take a close second. Oh, I do need to get out here. If memories and food are the best part of my day... that's a problem.

-JZ

I never truly understood the glory of Friday until I got a real job.

This has been, quite possibly, the longest day in the history of days. Not because I have been busy - quite the opposite, actually. This is just one of those days when the stars align and I have nothing to do at work. Well, there's always something I could be doing. But nothing of pressing importance. So I'm left to sit and count the minutes until I'm at Dominick's, sitting on a lovely sunny patio, drinking an Oberon and enjoying the nice weather.

All I can think about is this Yale chick's abortion art project.

Wonder if she would object to me referring to her as a 'chick'?

Her project fascinates/terrifies/disgusts me. I suppose that's the point. I guess I have to support anything that gets people thinking and talking that isn't celebrity gossip. It's been a while since my Women in Literature class, so some of her discourse was a little over my head. If you're going to create an art project that will inevitably stir the pot and seriously freak people out, at least have the courtesy to talk about it in accessible language! Come on.

This weekend should be a good one, but it's killing me to watch all of my friends graduate. I wish I was graduating with them, so I could buy a cap and gown and go through all the celebration. My own graduation passed with hardly pomp OR circumstance at all, and it almost feels like it didn't even happen.

Oh goodness, I can't believe a year has passed since my college graduation. That fact could really dampen my spirits. Luckily, there are only about 90 minutes to get through until I can dampen my spirits with a different kind of spirits, if you catch my drift.

About an hour or so left of work, which I'll be forced to spend trying to flirt with the reference librarian who works the Friday afternoon shift. He is so unresponsive to my efforts!

Then, I'm off to a meeting to discuss my upcoming Habitat for Humanity trip to Guatemala. After that, the sunny, boozey patio awaits.