"More Hetfield than Hetfield"

Anyone else heard the first couple of singles from Metallica's new album, Death Magnetic (out Sept. 12)? Of the two, I favor "The Day That Never Comes" and Paul favors "My Apocalypse," but I wouldn't give either more than a 4 or 5 on a scale of 1 to 10.

Right now would be a good time to say that I stay about a decade behind music trends, which means I'll probably get around to buying that damn Katy Perry song in 2016 or so. Anyway, I didn't get into Metallica until college, which means I was weaned on Load and later. A lot of people say Death Magnetic sounds a lot like Black Album and earlier, but it's missing one key component: Hetfield! Sounds like his voice is starting to give out on him. (Understandable, given the band has been around for, like, 25 years or so, right?)

Anyway, somebody in the know pointed me toward a Finnish band called Am I Blood, saying "he sounds more Hetfield than Hetfield." (Four songs available from their MySpace page.) It does sound a lot like old school Metallica ... but there's a heavy dose of gothic thrash in there as well. Totally diggable.

Raise your hand if you even knew I liked Metallica. Yeah, that's what I thought. My taste in music is pretty eclectic even if it is behind the times. Hey, what can I say? Having an iPod means I don't get much exposure to new stuff except artists I dig enough to follow online.

80 minutes

I have a fun game I play with my iPod playlists: I make them CD length – 80 minutes or less. Some of them are named for friends and have songs that remind me of them (cat's out of the bag – I bet a few of them don't know I do that).

The rest of them are my own, mostly a "what I'm listening to right now" thing. I put together two or three a year. Here's my latest, Kate's Stuff Five.

1. "Midnight Rider," Honeytribe (3:25)
2. "Eleanor, Put Your Boots On," Franz Ferdinand (2:50)
3. "When You Were Young," The Killers (3:40)
4. "The Kids Aren't Alright," Offspring (3:00)
5. "Where Are You Going?" Dave Matthews Band (3:53)
6. "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away," Eddie Vedder (2:09)
7. "Dammit," Blink 182 (2:45)
   
8. "September Gurls," Big Star (2:49)
9. "Power of Orange Knickers," Tori Amos (3:37)
10. "Teenagers," My Chemical Romance (2:41)
11. "Birdhouse in Your Soul," They Might Be Giants (3:15)
12. "It's All Been Done," Barenaked Ladies (3:25)
13. "Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth With Money in My Hand," Primitive Radio Gods (5:37)
14. "Every Day is Exactly the Same (Radio Edit)," Nine Inch Nails (3:52)
15. "Imaginary (Not For Your Ears edit)," Evanescence (3:19)
    
16. "It Overtakes Me/The Stars Are So Big, I Am So Small ... Do I Stand a Chance?" The Flaming Lips (6:51)
17. "Maps," Yeah Yeah Yeahs (3:39)
18. "Undone (The Sweater Song)," Weezer (5:05)
19. "Thank U," Alanis Morissette (4:20)
20. "This Aint a Scene, It's an Arms Race," Fall Out Boy (3:32)
21. "Venus," Air (4:06)

Try putting together your own 80 minutes. And let me know if you do -- I'd love to see the result.

Executive decisions

You know that song "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter? The chorus, in part, goes: "You had a bad day, you're taking one down, you sing a sad song just to turn it around." Well, it doesn't work. I was feeling depressed when I woke up this morning, so I turned on a playlist of some saddish music ... and I cried.

So check that off the list of home remedies for depression.

My issue is something Matt said before he left. He said I don't love myself enough, that I defer too much to others, that I need to do more of what I want to do. (He also said it affects our friendship, which is a completely different cringe-worthy aspect.)

So I've come up with a plan of action.

First of all, I'm quitting the Abilify. Today. This morning. I'm not taking a high enough dose that I need to take myself off it slowly, and there's no good reason for me to be on it. It was prescribed to help me get through the move; now the move is over. I'm sick of being foggy-headed and unable to carry on a conversation or think for myself. I feel like a lobotomy patient.

Second, I'm going to use this time where I'm not working to do things I want to do. The extent of what I need to accomplish today is fax some things to T-Mobile, go to the post office, and cook dinner. (We're having sweet and sour chicken. Thanks for asking.) After I finish my "chores," I'm going to see a movie. Then I'm going to John's Island for a little sightseeing. Why the hell not?

He might have been what got the ball rolling, but I've recognized for a while the need to switch up some things. I need to start making some executive decisions that affect me. I'm not really imposing on anyone when I do those things, so there's no good reason why I shouldn't.

Who cares if I watch Spongebob instead of CNBC every morning? Who cares if I don't wear lipstick or play Rock Band while the neighbors are at work? So there you have it. Now I've just got to draft up a manifesto, and I'll be set to go. :D

This post will make your IQ drop at least 3 points

Some people in this country make me feel very, very smart. (image from failblog)

Fastest six days ever

I gave Matt an iPod; he gave me a whole bunch of jewelry. Click the picture to make it bigger. Some nice stuff in there.

Paul and I dropped Matt off at the airport an hour and a half ago. I cried on the way back to my car. Paul says Matt's the closest thing I have to a brother, and he's right ... except most people get to see their siblings more than a couple times a year. (Both guys denied that's true.)

His trip was fantastic timing because of all I've had on my mind lately. Being able to just let go in front of both guys -- just kind of breaking open -- really helped me out a lot. I've cried more in the past three days than I probably have in the past three months, but it was kind of therapeutic. It's nice to know both of them care about me enough that we can hash out anything on my mind whenever I want.

The plan is to meet up in March, maybe in Fort Lauderdale. That hinges on everyone's finances, but it gives me something fun to look forward to. In case the Charleston countdown clock didn't clue you in, I'm very much tied to when this or that will happen. Vacation countdowns start months in advance for me. So looking forward to March is a big deal ... and it made it a little easier to say goodbye. (I didn't cry quite as much.)

Speaking of countdowns and whatnot, Johanna is visiting for a couple of weeks starting a week from Friday. After she leaves, it's just a couple of weeks before my parents get here. I'll squeeze in a weekend at Carrie's in between there somewhere.

And March will be here before I know it. <3

Mmmm

Matt cooked dinner tonight: turkey burgers, grilled corn and grilled asparagus. He's pretty damn good in the kitchen ... and on the grill.

He leaves tomorrow night, so I've got to make tomorrow the Best Day Ever. Ever!

Weekend in review

Weekend was more exciting than normal, having Matt around. Saturday, we drove to Wadmalaw Island for a winery tour and tasting. Today we headed to the peninsula to visit Market Street. Felt a little like tourists, and I guess we still are, in a way.

Tonight, we stumbled into a deep conversation about acceptance, rejection, being a good person, feeling insecure, and so on and so forth. I did a lot of listening and tried to keep the talking to a minimum. I cried. Matt and I are supposed to pick back up tomorrow.

Truth be told, it's hard for me to handle such conversations. I think I'm a decent writer ... but I can't expound on things on the fly. Must think really hard tonight about what I want to say so I can say it all tomorrow. I'll probably cry again, and I think that's OK.

I think I'm going to go dye my hair now. Black.

I know who I was, now where am I going?

For those of you who don’t know I’m adopted: Surprise. I am.

I had started a long, flowery post about my thoughts on how it’s shaped some aspects of my life, but I deleted all that crap. I’ll cut straight to the chase: I got a hit on an adoption records site where people post search requests. I hadn’t actively searched in a couple of years, and managed to stumble on this as a lark.

I found a record that fit the criteria to a T. It. Was. Me.

For two weeks, I’ve cried about this. I’ve slowly told people here and there when I have the energy to field questions. I’ve tried to write (more tears than words end up on the page). I finally decided to post about it because I can’t keep it all to myself anymore.

I don’t think anyone – anyone – has realized how deeply this is rocking my world. Every time I close my eyes, I’m plummeted to my state of mind at 15 – that raw, teenage angst that doesn’t form words. I’m back to my old friend and enemy: Why? Why? Why?

But now I have a last name for my birthmother, and – hallelujah – being a research analyst means I actually can do something with it. I’ve narrowed her down. I know her name. I know where she lives now … and it’s far, far away. I’m just not sure whether to contact her straight away or go about more … subtle … methods of making contact (e.g., online).

I never had a brother or sister, and I want to meet my siblings. I want my medical history and I want to know why. Again: why.

One of the most frustrating things has been that the people I’ve told have no reaction. Okay, it’s not that they have no reaction. It’s more like … it’s obvious they don’t know how to react, so they don’t visibly react at all. One even questioned why it was a big deal to me. But imagine being told you had a family you never knew about. That’s how it feels.

I had a name, too: Jolene.

Jolene Gibeault Ennis.

(Do I look like a Jolene?) But please don't laugh at it; it's kind of grown on me.

I’m wasting a lot of my waking energy on this. I’m wasting a lot of non-waking energy, too. I kind of black out after taking Ambien, and this morning I woke up to a long, rambling essay and half a poem sitting on my kitchen table on top of a copy of a Billy Collins anthology.

I’m just not sure what to do now. I kind of want to take in and embrace the whole thing, but I don’t want to lose momentum. And yet part of me is scared to gain momentum for fear this all will happen way faster than I anticipated.

::sigh:: I just feel … yucky.

So after two weeks of not blogging about it, there it is. Who I used to be.

Blond

Wasn't he nice???

Never mind shaving your head ... try shaving your hat

Ooh, look at me! I'm in a uniform! I have a beret! :-)

Funny thing: Paul has to shave his berets. I'm not quite sure why, but he had to take a disposable razor and ... literally shave the beret he's wearing tomorrow. I don't know if this is some military custom or what, but shaven berets it is.

Matt flew in this morning and will be here through Tuesday. We didn't do much today -- drove around some, walked to the Shem Creek pier, ate lunch, visited Paul at The Citadel -- and now he's asleep on the La-Z-Boy. Just like in March.

Tomorrow is this big Citadel party at the Beach House. I'm a little nervous because I'm not exactly the hobnobbing sort. And I'm even more nervous because of the whole "Harley casual" attire thing. I've selected some nice, dark jeans (slightly frayed), a black tee and a black dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Tennis shoes. I hope that's not too casual, but it's what I'd wear if I were riding a motorcycle. Which I'm not. Ever.

So what's the verdict on the uniform? I think it's kind of snazzy, in a military sort of way. He cleans up well.

He's a doctor, but not the kind that helps people

Thought I'd share a pic of Pablo at graduation yesterday holding his newly minted doctorate. So, so proud. :-)

... And for some reason, I'm really craving SNAX.

Chocolate chipper

A couple of days ago, I asked who could name the TV show that features the same shower curtain I have in my bathroom.

The answer is The Big Bang Theory on CBS. The shower curtain is from ThinkGeek.

Well, unlike previous empty promises to buy people cookies (or, as I recall, a pack of gum, which was slated to go to Smacky) for being Smarty McSmartpants, I actually bought Johanna a cookie.

And it was a darn good cookie, too, she tells me.

The red-eye

Twittered (tweeted?) earlier about the red-eye flight into Memphis and my bloodshot eyes. It was a little more serious than that.

I've actually had slightly bloodshot eyes for the past couple of weeks -- nothing horrible, just enough to be unsightly. (Unsightly -- get it?) Didn't itch, didn't hurt ... so I chalked it up to all the dust we'd stirred up while packing combined with a stress and a strange sleep schedule.

Paul convinced me to go to the optometrist today -- one of our three days in Memphis -- just to have it checked out.

The diagnosis? Filamentary keratitis. Basically, my eyes are extremely, extremely dry, and epithelial cells have broken off into strands that more or less are hanging from my cornea. The optometrist numbed my eye and pulled off three of the strands. Grossed out yet?

Now I've got to put this oily antibiotic in my eyes every few hours to keep them from getting infected or ulcerated. I can't wear my contacts for a few weeks, and also (more annoyingly) I have to put eye drops in every 15 minutes. Every 15 minutes! My watch timer is set on a 20-minute repeat (slightly more tolerable than 15 minutes). I put drops in at least three times during dinner and five times at Starbucks tonight. People probably think I'm crazy.

And my eyes still look unsightly.

Back to the optometrist tomorrow to make sure I'm making progress.

So here's a public thanks to Paul. I was pretty mean about him nagging me, but he kept right on doing it, and I'm glad he did.

Another late-night post. Ignore typos until I'm able to proof in the a.m. :)

OK, TV fans ...

A cookie for the first person other than Paul to tell me what TV show features the shower curtain in my guest bathroom. (And, just so you know, I had it before the show aired. It was a Christmas gift from a secret Santa.)

Do I have to get a tat?

I've been stressing about a faculty dinner next week at the college's beach house -- with Paul being new faculty, I want to make a good impression. The original word was that it was "casual," but we were told "street casual" and "military casual" are entirely different beasts, so I've been looking for a summery dress that's still rather proper.

The official invitation has come in now, and it says the attire is "Harley casual." Like the motorcycle. Now I've got to rethink the whole thing. What am I going to wear?

... Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

Now where did I pack the box-cutter?

I wouldn't say we're "settled in," but we started with 135 items and boxes (oh, so so so many boxes), and I think we're more than halfway through the unpacking process. (The pictures -- my living room and kitchen, respectively -- were taken right after the movers left. We've made quite a bit of progress since then.)

I thought I was discriminate during packing -- and I was. But I'm more discriminate now as it sinks in how little furniture and clothes fit into about 1,050 square feet. We've already filled five BIG boxes and one medium box for Goodwill as of this moment ... and I'm sure it's not the last. I won't, however, be getting rid of my fine china and crystal, which I'll put in storage until I can find a spot for it.

Today was incredibly busy -- The day started at around 7 a.m. with some unpacking. The Comcast guys came to install cable/internet mid-morning. After that, we went to the DMV, where Paul caught some slack by a bitter gatekeeper who said Paul's paperwork wasn't good enough to get a license. (I got mine. It's ugly.)

We left the DMV and went to the credit union to set up accounts -- no easy matter because Paul didn't have a driver's license. Then back to the apartment to meet Colin, the cat-sitter while we're in Memphis for graduation. Then off to the DMV again -- and after some wrangling Paul did get a license. Newly licensed, we stopped by Kmart for nails, etc., then headed back to the apartment to crash for a while.

Tonight, we walked in the dark to the pier. The wildlife hasn't lost its luster yet. It was low tide and smelled ... like the ocean does at low tide -- a little salty and bitter. Either you know what I'm talking about or you don't.

Paul's going to school tomorrow, so chances are I'm going to have some time to spend online blogging and/or making jewelry.

Only a week and a half until Matt gets here. He's used to navigating boxes when he comes to visit, but I'd like to impress him with greatly improved organizational skills.

Miss posting/reading. Hope you guys are all OK. <3

Travel rehash

Well, I'm here. Home.

Actually, I'm here, home and awake -- air mattresses, as I have quickly come to find out, are only a couple of degrees better than sleeping on the ground. I've made mine as posh as possible (new, pink jersey sheets; new, pink fleece throw; my two pillows and body pillow from home ...), but it's just not comparable to a mattress.

Ah, I hear a dog at the dog park across the lawn! Cool!

The cats have done their best getting here and situated. I'm going to visit them in their "safe room" as soon as I finish typing this. I drove to Charleston over two days -- leaving Thursday night, arriving early Friday afternoon so I could sign papers. Paul left early Friday morning with the cats in tow, and I think he was serenaded most of the way here. He's a good sport though.

The moving company, which originally said our furniture would be here Tuesday, is now saying Monday. They've waffled on dates so much that I'm not going to believe it until the moving truck is here ... and maybe not even then, just to be on the safe side.

Despite my frustration with the moving company, the three movers who did the hard work were extremely helpful and friendly. They didn't even balk too much when they found out their dispatcher -- again, demonstrating a lack of communication -- didn't tell them they were scheduled to pack our breakable items, which pretty much doubled the length of time they were at our house.

They didn't take their frustration out on us, but they did have to call another employee to bring them packing materials. (Hello, guys, you know the newsprint in which you're wrapping my demitasse cups? Yeah, I've got four rolls of it over there. I work at a newspaper. I have lots of extra newsprint.) Anyway, the extra employee arrived while I was upstairs at my computer desk, and I caught him just wandering around the house aimlessly. (Why? You're not doing any work here. Weren't you just leaving ...)

We'd closed Fred and Joe in a room at the end of the hallway so they wouldn't have to deal with scary people they didn't know. I saw the guy approaching that door, and yelled out, "Hey, don't open that door at the end of the hallway!" to which he replied, "This door?" In .002 seconds, Joe was barreling down the hallway, down the stairs, screeching because there were strangers in the house and no furniture under which to hide.

"Yes, that door."

The only thing left in our bedroom was the bed, so Joe ran underneath and wedged herself in a hole in the box springs. We weren't moving the box springs (Mom and Dad bought us new ones! Yay!) so I slowly ripped the bottom off until she tumbled out. Paul caught her and we put her in a harness. Getting her back upstairs, past the moving guys (strangers = scary) was another ordeal, and Paul has the war wounds to prove it. She tore huge gashes in his arm, hand, shoulder and back. The one on his arm bled a lot, so he spent the rest of the day in a bloody shirt and jeans. I can't make this stuff up.

Anyway, long story short(er), we're here, the cats are here, the furniture is not here, and we've got a whole weekend ahead of us to wander around as we see fit. I know another trip to a big box is in order; I bought $150 worth of household goodies (kitchen trash can, shower curtains, etc.) yesterday, but I've already started a list of things we need to get today.

If you've made it this far, congratulations. Come visit me on the beach. :-)

Grand plan

The movers come between 8:30 and 9:30 a.m. and have said packing likely will take six hours. After that, Paul's and my plans diverge.

I'm going to leave mid- to late afternoon and try to drive a little past Atlanta and get a room for the night. Then I'm going to get up Friday morning, drive the rest of the way to Mt. Pleasant, sign papers, do inspection and whatnot. Paul is leaving Friday morning and driving straight -- cats in tow -- likely getting to MP late.

Our furniture isn't set to be delivered until Tuesday, so we bought a couple of air mattresses and (hopefully) packed enough clothes in suitcases to tide us over til then. Won't have Internet access until the cable guy comes Monday morning (although I'll likely set up shop at Starbucks for a little while over the weekend). We'll only have a 12-inch TV, as well, so I have a feeling we'll be spending more than a little time exploring the city. Works for me.

I still get all my e-mails on my phone, as well as SMS texts and, of course, phone calls. I'll also have a good chance to use my car phone minutes tomorrow and Friday. :D

Okay, going to bed. Ambien has kicked in and I'm not quite sure if this is making sense anymore.

How can you call it a going-away party when you're stuck in those finger thingies?

Two going-away get-togethers yesterday. Had a lot of fun. Paul snagged some Chinese finger-thingies with the tickets he won at the arcade. The boy has a doctorate and still thought it was a good idea to stuff his fingers in woven bamboo. (Actually, he has a lot of "good ideas," many worse than this.)

I have new pictures up from yesterday in my friends gallery. I also have 25 new pieces up in my jewelry gallery. Not all of them have made it to the Etsy shop yet.

About 20 of my coworkers showed up for the first party, an after-work thing at Boscos brewery. Then Paul and I met up with Matthew and a couple of friends from high school and college at an arcade/restaurant. So if you want to get technical, I spent eight hours yesterday making merry and bright.

I felt very loved. ::warm fuzzies::

The highlight of the second party, besides Paul sticking all his fingers in those thingies, was asking somebody – anybody – to win me something – anything – from the Bling King machine. I really wanted the big, purple watch with the jewel-encrusted dollar sign, but I was willing to settle for any bling. And I got my wish. Paul snagged a keychain – or at least half of a keychain. I'm not sure if the bling fell off or if it was a consolation prize for dropping, like, $5 on one machine and winning absolutely nothing. In any case, I wore my bling ring for the rest of the night.

Haves and have-nots

In the vein of Grrface’s and Smacky’s blog posts, here are a few of the little things I’m glad I do and don’t have.

Five non-crucial things I’m glad I have:

1. That pic of me and the boys at Musicfest
   
2. Lots of black t-shirts
   
3. Contact lens
   
4. Paul’s unwitting witticisms (Paulisms)
   
5. A good spam filter

Five non-crucial things I’m glad I don’t have:

1. Allergies to common things (peanuts, red food dye, latex, jewelry)
   
2. A papercut. Worse: a cardboard papercut
   
3. Stains on my lots of black t-shirts
   
4. A broken finger (no jewelry, piano, video games …)
   
5. Jocelyn Wildenstein’s lips

Five non-crucial things I wish I had:

1. Red hair
   
2. A convertible – and no chance of getting speeding tickets
   
3. 20/20 vision
   
4. A bottle of Angel perfume by Thierry Mugler
   
5. Superpowers(!): invisibility, teleportation, prescience, etc.

Five non-crucial things I wish I didn’t have:

1. A popped blood vessel in my left eye (it’s all red!)
   
2. So many boxes to move
   
3. An addiction to lip balm
   
4. Insomnia
   
5. The urge to collect lipstick and teddy bears