Enough with the Arachnids

I decided to overlook the first spider I killed, which happened before I even moved in. It was a little one and it was of one of those jumping varieties. I decided to overlook the second jumper I saw, as well, because, although it was on my property, it was just outside the front of the door. I spared its life because I figured it wasn't doing me any harm by being out there.

Last week, I came into my room and took off my shoes. I looked down and chillin' there like it belonged was this huge-ass light brown (almost see-through) spider. My heart began to race out of fear and then shock that I was faced with such a creature. I killed it. I didn't want to. I usually have other people do it, because I simply cannot handle those fucking things. Erin did it wonderfully for two and a half years (actually, she saved them most of the time). And being 13 floors up in good 'ol William St. last year freed me from having to worry about such things. Well, I'm spared no longer.I saw another one tonight, sittin' on the wall, looking at me. I watched him, because I wasn't in the mood to kill him. The mess, you know. Well, then he started to move uncontrollably along the wall, and I had no other choice but to jump up and end its life.

I'm not gonna be able to handle this. My mattress is on the floor. What if one of these things ends up in my mouth one day? I think I may have to get a frame now. Maybe when the school year starts and I have money. What a lame story. Moving on.

I was inside again all day under the weight of the pouring rain. But this morning, I awoke to bright blue skies and beaming sunlight. The former editor of the TCDS Bulletin had the final issue to send to print and she wanted me to go with her to meet the printer and all that good stuff. So I met her at school and we headed down to my old 'hood again. I got to ride the green line. I didn't think one could miss a train line. But I do. The 4, 5, and 6 were good to me. If I take the 6, should I get off at the Brooklyn Bridge and just walk home or should I transfer to either the 4 or 5 at the Brooklyn Bridge and get off at Fulton? I most often opted for the walk home from the Brooklyn Bridge. It's a nice one, though not so safe at 4:30 am. Such choices were a part of my daily life last year.

Anyway, back downtown today, I met the printer, Joel. He's a nice guy. Into his gig. He wanted to know if I knew Quark. "Sure." (Not at all.) But it's going to be a part of my job. Not only will I be the editor, where I'll be copy editing and proofreading, but I'll also be laying out the content, and making sure it gets to the printer. It'll be great experience. And I'm still looking forward to it.

I'm in a quandary about my classes. I really want to take the "Metonymic Imagination." And I really want to take "Cultural Criticism." But there's this issue I'm having with thesis advisors. One of the professors who is teaching that "Identities Movements" class is actually sort of known in the world of gender. The other prof. teaching that same class is someone who Jim Miller suggested I speak with. So there are two women teaching one class, both of whom seem to be perfect candidates for my thesis advisor. But I heard they have to have a personal interest in your work. This is assuming I can be interesting to them, for sure.

I'm also having Margo Jefferson as a prof. next fall but I'm not sure if she's thesis advisor material. She's won a Pulitzer and she's only visiting. So I'm really confused.

I'm not so sure I want Elzbieta to be my advisor only because she'll also be my boss. I don't want her getting sick of me. And not that she would. I mean, it's me. I'll keep you posted. I considered briefly auditing the "Metonymic Imagination," which means I would pay an additional $150 (because New School doesn't cost enough already) and attend class but not necessarily do the work. What's the point? So I'm confused. I despise confusion.

After the printer, I met Renata. We had planned to go for beer at this place called Reservoir, which is a favorite Liberal Studies establishment (the best chicken wings I can get within a one-mile radius of my school and they're $.30 each on Mondays). But she started craving a margarita from this other place that's in the block before Reservoir -- La Cantina or La Cocina or something. El Cantinero. That's it. It's a nice place. The atmosphere and all that. The problem was, happy hour didn't start till 5. It was only 3. So we waited for happy hour. I've never done that before. It's kind of pathetic actually, but whatever.

And the two $3 margaritas I had were fantastic. While we waited for it to begin, we hung out in Union Square and got some sun. My sock tan is officially gone and I must be at least 10 shades darker in most places. Nothing else is going on. Mary is coming on Thursday and she told me that she was up for doing anything. So I think we may be marching in the gay pride parade on Sunday. I've never done that before. I will be sure to bring my camera. It's a long walk, so we may join in later. I'll see. Maybe I'll tell them I'm pregnant, too, so I can get a seat in the car. The problem is, they wouldn't believe me.

And then there's the dyke march on Saturday. I've done that before but in S.F. It was fun. I may have mentioned this before. We're going to that, too. I'm looking forward to Saturday. And I'm looking forward to visiting with one of my dearest friends.

I have something else on which I'd like to expend energy. It may seem rather insignificant to some, but it's important to me, something I'm struggling with. I have a problem. I'm an early adopter. I bought my iPod -- Apple's kick-ass MP3 player; the best one in the world -- last year. Over a year ago. Like, a year and almost a half ago. I don't go anywhere without it. For instance, I was going to go somewhere last week but realized my iPod wasn't sufficiently charged -- well, it wasn't charged at all -- and so I waited about 30 minutes in order to get a good charge.

Well, I use my iPod so much that the little white plastic bit that encases the headphone jack got cracked and eventually came off. This means that the transfer of sound from the machine to my ears is uneven at times; the left ear goes out and I have to play with the cord. It's very frustrating. Another thing is my iPod holds 1000 songs. It cost more money back then than the ones that hold 2000 songs cost now. That's ok. That's a risk I understand one needs to take when in the business of serious technology shopping.

What does bother me is that it seems everybody, everybody has one of them new ones. Have you seen them? They're amazing. They're thinner than mine. The buttons are cooler. And, perhaps the best part of all, the buttons light up. Red. And I see them everywhere. Everyone and their little Apple headphones. And here I have a relic. I can't justify buying one even though I have some space on my Apple loan. So I'm not going to. I'm just going to play with Mary's this weekend.

Ok, thanks for listening. And if you decided to skip over the rant, welcome back.  I'm never going to sleep again. I just saw a tiny tiny spider crawling on my leg. It's dead. I can't handle this. I want to move. I'm gonna go out on the roof now to smoke a clove. Now that the proverbial cat's out of the bag with that little habit of mine, I can let it fly. Sorry for my frenetic"ism." Peace out.