Aardvark of Justice!

matrixx @ 2009-10-21T19:39:00

2009-10-22T00:01:24Z

I'm sure we all remember the Great Mandolin Mix-Up of 2009 set off when I exuberantly purchased a mandolin of the "it slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries!" variety instead of the musical instrument since, sadly, I failed to magically manifest any kind of musical talent overnight. In the initial trial period with said kitchen gadget, I managed to slice a hefty chunk out of my right middle finger. It scabbed over quickly, but was there for awhile - slowly repairing the damage that I'd done in my impulsive pickle making fervor. I'd gotten so used to it that I had forgotten about it until tonight when I noticed the puckered scar that is still there. And it made me wonder if this is just a temporary phase in the healing process and, if so, will there come a point where this self-inflicted epidermal abuse fades away? Or is this subtle imperfection destined to be a part of my life forever? A reminder of the summer of not-entirely-legal cucumber acquisition, thunderstorms experienced on the screened porch, the feeling of nothing separating skin and river, and nights spent honestly alone. Then I realized the way I am finally in a place where a scar doesn't have to be a symbolic metaphor. There is nothing that requires me to compare the accidental damage to my body and the intentional changes in my life, but it's a hard thing to resist. While there are lingering marks on once-pristine flesh, the wounds truly are healed.

This is life, and now this is how I live it.

matrixx @ 2009-10-06T20:08:00

2009-10-07T01:31:11Z

Dear LJ,

Long ago and far away when we first met, I was a girl barely 23 years old. Naive, idealistic, far more patient with people than she should have been, just learning the way the world works and just what she was capable of. Among other things. I come to you today in a way I never have before: as a thirty-something. And I come in a way I have so very many times before: with pictures! Wait... that sounded really dirty. What I meant is, er, HERE HAVE A PICTURE POST!

And a fish head:

But that comes later. First I flew to Boston (where aristophanes lives) and learned the true meaning of the word "awkward". What is awkward, exactly? Awkward is the (male) flight attendant pass you this mid-flight and having to figure out how to respond:

This was after the TSA checkpoint guy told me I'd have to go back through and, gullible fool that I am, I started to comply and then he said that he was just kidding because he wanted an excuse to pat me down. Sometimes I just do not get life. But I DID get to Boston, which was a huge relief!

Neal picked me up and we, uh, ate naan. Yeah, that's what it's called now. I don't know exactly HOW his bed got broken, but I suspect it was related to the structural flaw that did in my bed and couch. And nearly the dining room table. You know, look, I think really what we should focus on here is how well made that hammock is. Man, that thing should teach lessons in structural integrity. Because, er, naan is heavy. Obviously that is what I meant.

Moving right along... the next day we drove down to take the fast ferry to Gay Head (okay, technically to Oak Bluff's, but both are on Martha's Vineyard and my brain nearly collapsed at the opportunity for gay head jokes, ESPECIALLY when ferries were involved). View from the deck:

I liked how Fearless and Explorer are right next to each other. Down below, Neal just breaks ALL the rules:

[insert joke about blocking the hatch on the ferry to Gay Head here]

Once on the island, we took a taxi van thing to Edgartown with some man who led to many lulz and inside jokes with the rest of the group later. Moped wedding, baby. It's the only way to go. You just don't get it. ONWARD TO THE RESORT!

We stayed in one of the rooms with a turret. The bed was like heaven, if heaven was actually a really comfortable bed. I wanted to take so many naps that I started to suspect that the verbena-scented conditioner was drugged. That night we had cocktails on the veranda, followed by dinner with lotttttts of wine. At some point I went up to the room to get my coat and took a picture of what I thought of being 30 so far:

And then we went out to experience the wild Martha's Vineyard nightlife. Hint: there were fish.

That's Becky, and I promised to email her these pictures. I wouldn't hold the fish, but I DID touch it. Then I drank. I drank a LOT. I think I told the waiter or the bartender that it was my birthday which is, apparently, the magic word to get ridiculously strong drinks. At some point we were inside. There were pizzas or... something. I talked to the band and asked them to play The Downeaster Alexa, but they didn't, although I think we left pretty much as soon as they started playing because they were loud, but really I have no idea. I WAS DRUNK LIEK OMG:

At some point we stumbled back to the hotel, I stole a flower on the way from one of the ridiculously well landscaped yards, and then I puked my guts out while Neal held my hair. No one remembers how I managed to get my clothes off. I wonder if I was throwing up naked? I really have no idea, and truly that is THE WAY to say goodbye to your 20s!

The next day I didn't take a single picture. We had breakfast and then I did some yoga and watched A&E while Neal had a meeting. Shortly after that there was a bus tour of the island, but it was pouring rain and not only could we not see anything, but the tour guide (Jocko Jaques-o?)was completely unintelligible. Really the only thing you could understand him saying was "Carly Simon" and that's only because he must have said it nine million times. Apparently she owns everything on Martha's Vineyard. EVERYTHING. Even Jocko. We saw Jackie-O's driveway and property, at least 5 of Carly Simon's houses, James Taylor's spread, and Billy Joel's house in the fishing village. Also where the Clintons and Obamas spent their summer vacations. Then there was napping, then a million mile walk to the fancy restaurant where we had dinner. The salad was fantastic, the rest so-so, and I talked to people about alpacas.

Sunday, however, was chock full o' fun. We went out walking in the morning and visited the lighthouse across from the hotel. Neal made up facts about lighthouses for me. I'm pretty sure this belongs to Carly Simon:

After walking for awhile, it was time to go sailing aboard the Magic Carpet:

Neal's on a boat! He's on a boat! He's on a motherf***ing boat! (he had no idea what I was talking about, so just to clear that up: http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/clips/digital-short-im-on-a-boat/998982/ And, in retrospect, all those jokes I made about the boat that was on the farm PROOOOOBABLY would have made more sense in context.

Moving right along... I WAS ON A BOAT!

I would have tried for a better picture, but my camera died about then. By the time I charged the battery... OH YEAH WE WERE DRUNK AGAIN:

And this was even before the like 19-types-of-wine-tasting and nightcaps at the hotel (holy shit, the tv is on some dance show and they are playing some female cover of "Everybody Knows" by Leonard Cohen! /awesome randomness):

And then it was Monday morning and time to leave, but not before a brief reminder of why this is where the rich and famous come to get away from it all (and/or why Carly Simon snapped it all up):

From there we drove back to Neal's house where I started renovating his bathroom. No, you really cannot take me anywhere. I will renovate houses with the slightest provocation, and that painted tile was enough to provoke anyone. Spent another night there and then we got up at five AM to take an airport shuttle so I could fly out and he could pick up a rental to drive to Maine, but not before making fun of everything that ever existed over coffee. Especially the heath hens.

So, in conclusion, the trip was fantastic. I haven't had that much fun since... the last time I had that much fun. It was a wonderful, wonderful way to ring in this new portion of my life for which I have so much hope and anticipation. Thank you to everyone who sent cards and gifts and just generally made me feel special. I deeply appreciate having such wonderful friends and I hope that I can be as kind and generous with you as you are with me.

matrixx @ 2009-09-14T19:00:00

2009-09-15T00:39:00Z

So on the one hand, you could dwell. You could lament and gnash your teeth and try to figure out Just What the Hell Went Wrong. And I've been down that path - for the first time really just last year - there are tears, and self-doubt, and regrets. That path is better than the one full of justifications and judgment because that means something. That path means you had something that was, for a time, worth having. It was real.

On the other hand, you could just begin to accept that people change. Situations change. Goals and ideals, capacity and intent. This is a great big dynamic world that resents being crammed into some checklist of morality and mortality. You come to a point where you realize, "I made the choices that were best for me." Maybe it wasn't the kind thing to do, maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but when someone starts handing out trophies for righteousness... well then you've got another religion in which I do not believe.

Times like these, you have to resort to the cliches and face the fact that they only got to be cliche in the first place through a certain ring of truth. "Never felt like this before," "no sense crying over spilled milk," "everything's coming up roses," and "no pain, no gain" are all equally applicable here.

And so I think really all you can do is say goodbye. Because "you aren't who I thought you were" is a two sided street, and it's not exactly fair. The truth is that none of us are really who we think we are because every day we wake up is a chance to be someone different. Progression, regression, kind, bitchy, generous, shrill... Well, there's a reason we have so many adjectives, too.

So while I'm not one to dwell on the end-of-life scenario sort of accounting practices to which some are devoted, I would rather go knowing that I enjoyed what I had than that I sacrificed for some sort of martyrdom that never came. I'm staying here. Far from stagnant, but growing, changing; learning who I am right along with who everyone else is. And yeah, I could probably stand to be nicer about it, but then so could you.

And while I am loathe to drag any poetry into this but it seems fitting given, you know, all the English majors involved, "not with a bang but with a whimper." It's practically a cliche. That's all it takes. Just a little click of the icon on LJ and something ends. Something which began in reality and, at one time, meant a lot. But people grow and people change, and people want... well, hell, not people. *I* want... What I want is to mean something. To be more than disposable. More than replaceable. And if there is some sacrifice implicit in that, I think it only speaks more to the worth of the endeavor.

I do feel some guilt, and there are ways in which I am truly sorry, but more than that - so much more - I am desperately happy to have made the choices that I have made. What I have found in life and in myself so far exceeds the sacrifices I have made that it is easy to not look back. Not with longing, not with regret, not with anything but a sense of empowerment and anticipation of what the future might hold. So I am not angry or resentful really about anything... I vent in the moment, but I always have... I am content and excited and can accept the fact that this will probably change, just as whatever you are feeling right now will likely change, too. Please remember that and should our paths cross again know that, once upon a time, it was real. From my point of view. And a whimper can be a start as well.

matrixx @ 2009-09-11T14:44:00

2009-09-11T18:55:43Z

Whatever anyone might tell you, I definitely DID NOT just eat a can of stewed tomatoes with a spoon. It simply didn't happen.

What I did do, though, was get a stereo thing that I thought would let me play the turntable I bought through my old speakers since it's so quiet on the computer, but alas I was wrong. So I just don't really know WHAT to do now. There are James Taylor records out there just WAITING for me to listen to them, but I am helplessly unable to comply. Maybe I'll turn up something more useful if I make it out to some garage sales tomorrow.

Since that was a bust, my plans for the evening now exclude phonographs but will include listing to the more traditional mp3s while wearing a lot of eyeliner, possibly an evening gown, drinking martinis, and painting the bathroom. Cause that's just how I'm gonna play it. IT'S NOT LIKE ANYONE IS HERE TO STOP ME. MWUHAHAHA!

NEW FEATURE!!Egg count. Today the egg count stands at one dozen white and thirty nine brown eggs for a grand total of 51 EGGS IN MY FRIDGE. Fifty one eggs. Fuck.

You've written your own directions...

2009-08-26T20:45:13Z

You know, you get to a certain age *cough**cough*barelyamonthfromthirty*cough**cough* and there is a part of you that insists, "A woman your age just shouldn't use adjectives like 'dreamy' so often. You shouldn't brag so much and you should giggle entirely less." But then the rest of you is so busy bragging and giggling and just being generally dreamy that it distracts you from the heavier thoughts. Which at least helps to make up for all those angsty nights spent on brooding pessimism borne of black and white movies and an empty bed. And then that tiny third sliver of you, the one charged with the daunting task of reconciling the first two, says, "Look guys, you can be darkly insightful AND cheerily oblivious. There are no real rules in this game called life except 'keep going'. You can like it, you can hate it, and either way it doesn't make a bit of difference to anyone but you."

I did some pretty terrible things to get to this place where I am. Oh, sure, I'm far from the first person to have done them, and maybe it's the sort of thing everyone tries at one point. An infantile grasping, "testing my boundaries" sort of thing that shows us exactly which atrocities we are capable of committing. Regardless, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who lives in such celebration of these violations as I do now. It's not fair, but really why should anything be fair? Suck it up and keep going. The only thing worth regretting is a life spent more on piety than on reverence at the awesome opportunity in front of us.

Be back later, but with more pictures.

matrixx @ 2009-08-06T00:31:00

2009-08-06T04:50:53Z

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WAS FINISHED BABBLING - I am not. I am waiting for whey to cool from approximately 200 degrees F to 140 degrees F so I can make the ricotta from the mozzarella leftovers - because obviously a good farmer never lets anything go to waste even if it means she has to stay up drinking all night.

I wish my divorce would hurry up and be finalized already. Not because I really care about any of the details and crap, mostly because I am ready to remarry. To the new Pledge Multi-Surface Cleaner:

It is a can full of awesome, really. CLEAN, FRESHLY SCENTED AWESOME.

matrixx @ 2009-05-02T21:44:00

2009-05-03T01:45:57Z

So, I did some stuff today. Here, let me tell you!

BONUS! Appearance by Misty! (she's not so sure that's a bonus)

matrixx @ 2009-02-17T14:41:00

2009-02-17T19:42:42Z

sf_drama is trying to get a post to 10,000 comments. How many do you think I can get on this post? Random comments, macros, copypasta fanfic, jihad, whatever, bring it. I'll send a prize to the top commenter.

On your mark...

get set...

go!

matrixx @ 2005-11-25T23:43:00

2005-11-26T04:44:32Z

FRIENDS ONLY

Just because I'm cool like that. Comment and tell me I'm pretty to be added.