poem to my disease

of course
of course
i'm sick
of course
it's only the third week of school
of course
of course
it's true
of course
my white blood cells are in a duel

the boyfriend is going out of town
can't hug him good bye
only let out a sigh
as the mucus comes dribbling down

of course
of course
i'm sick
of course

...

at least it's not the swine flu

I miss my orange hat. I like orange and many thinks it's my favorite color. That's wrong. It's white. But, I dislike wearing white clothing. Orange is bright and happy and full. Every piece of orange that I have has a story behind it. My orange covers for my headphones which I stole from my friend/roommate. My orange hoodie which I got because my boyfriend hit me in the eye with a toy bows and arrows set (see a previous post). My orange hat which is very not fancy gotten at a very fancy hat store.

With summer here, I could not wear that orange hat. I miss my orange hoodie as well, but not as much as that orange hat which makes my hair look just the way I want it all the time. As I can not find any pictures of me in the hat, I provide you with a picture of the boyfriend, pretending to be me.



I think it's okay to miss an inanimate object. To grow attached to something that doesn't love you back. Maybe not such a good idea for people, but my hat... it's too awesome to not have feelings for.

an ode to IKEA

Ikea.
Oh.
Ikea.
Why are you so
BIG
?
Why do I cower under your
great, big, looming
shadow?
Why did I spend
three hours
inside of you?
Was it worth it for your
59cent glasses
almond cake
crazy shower curtain
?
Maybe I will never know.

Truth or dare.

I've been seeing a lot of themes out there. Vampires are very big right now. And zombies. Ooh. Hating the government. Well, that's always been big. And, to be honest, I'm a little sick of them. It's just like anything else. Too much of a good thing (I am NOT condoning Twilight) is still too much.

So, here's the issue. There are a couple things I want to talk about, but I would really rather not talk about. Let's make a short list.

1) How my night went.
2) How I feel about myself.

See? Pretty short.

I don't want to talk about them because I feel I talk about my boyfriend (1) and my depressive states (2) too much. I'm not depressed just... tired. In any case, I am a happy person and I need to start focusing on that part of my life.

*ahem*

Dear Shaina,

I dare you to shut the hell up and love yourself for once.

Love,
Shaina.

Err...

I don't really like to tell stories about things that happen to me, anymore. It's weird. In any case, I don't have anything I really want to say about Dustincon. It was fun. I greatly enjoyed seeing him. But, stories? Naah. I'm good.

At a glance.

In Bumsfuckville, IL and will return shortly with my feelings about the weekend, including how our car broke down while we were still an hour away from our destination (with 2 hours behind us).

This is what happens when you do a marathon watching of The State and write about your hero in your blog.

Dear Shaina,
Thanks for the great write-up! I'm glad I could make you laugh!
Sincerely,
Kerri Kenney-Silver

Is it creepy that I have her email address now?

Am I old yet?

On April 8, 2009 I turned 21. On June 9, 2009 my State ID expired. Man, do I not care about getting a new one. I mean, I want to do it. I feel like it'll make me being 21, you know, legal. However, people fully accept my expired ID. Thus, there is no push to get me to do it. And going to the place. And sitting. And waiting. Plus, I want to grow my hair back out long. If I take my new picture, it's going to be short. The new ID will be sideways. I don't know what to think of that. I'll contemplate and get back to you later. I mean, I'll do it. I'll totally do it. Eventually.

I still can't find my passport or social security card.

And, shit. I have jury duty at the end of this month.

There are so many... adult things.

Kerri Kenney-Silver: My Hero

Amy Sedaris is known as the Queen of "I'm sexy, but am going to play characters that are ugly and hilarious." She's great at this, but because of it, I can't really connect to her. She never plays the ugly and hilarious version of herself. Just characters.

Kerri Kenny-Silver of the The State and Reno 911! fame is my #1 favorite lady who's willing to make a complete ass of herself in front of people. I want to be her.

Growing up, I didn't have any female role models besides members of my family. I was a tomboy. I didn't care about Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock. Maybe I admired the Pink Ranger all those years ago, but that's just because I wanted to kick ass and take names.

Kerri (if I may call her that) will do anything and everything, even while pregnant with her child. She was on a sketch show with 10 other guys, as the only girl, and probably liked it that way.

She will never be the star. She will never be a model. She will never have millions of guys flocking towards her. No. She will be hilarious and lovely and amazing. Is this a girl crush or hero worship? Who knows?

Thank you, Kerri Kenney-Silver. I dedicate my stupidity and ridiculousness to you.

Sweet Charity

The first thing that comes up when I type CIF Chicago into google is the Chicago Improv Festival. I don't actually think the charity event my job sponsored was about that, or else I would have been much more excited. No, our had something to do with disabled or mentally ill-equipped folks.

After a little bit of research, I find it is the Center for Independent Futures. I am correct in my hypothesis:

"Join Center for Independent Futures at Cold Stone Creamery on Monday, August 3rd from 5:00 – 9:00 p.m. for a delicious ice cream treat! All are welcome to stop by the Evanston store at 1611 Sherman Avenue to enjoy a Cold Stone cone, cake, or drink. At the end of the evening, 10% of the proceeds will be donated to CIF in support of our mission to create new solutions for inviduals with disabilities and their families.

No special coupons are required—just you and your sweet tooth!

So spread the word, invite friends and begin dreaming of a delicious dessert at Cold Stone Creamery!"

We were all rather surprised this charity event was happening. I had wondered why 5 of us were working that night, 3 of us being shift leaders. It's not that I'm not happy to be involved, I just wish our boss told us... anything.

I'm big into knowing what's going on. I asked my boyfriend, on our very first date, whether it was a date or not. Then, I asked him if it would be alright if I kissed him. It's not that I don't like surprises, I just want to know what's going on in my life slightly more than other people know what's going on in my life.

We made $107 for them, by the way.

Continuing my attempt

When I'm at work, it's a game of how lazy I can be with how friendly I can be towards the customers. Interestingly enough, in the past, although that game existed, I've tended to end up in the back with dishes or refilling napkins. This has begun to change.

To be honest, it was never the customers themselves that caused me to clean, it was how tired they made me feel. People always ask if working at Cold Stone is fun. "It looks like so much fun!" they say as they watch me mix their ice cream into goop. It's a job where we walk back and forth, back and forth, back and forth from the Ghea (place where you look at the ice cream and we take it out) to the stone to the register. Dealing with the customers indecisions, stupid questions, and even good conversation along the way. It can get very tiring. Especially when it's loud and you have to scream to hear each other.

But, I realize that one of the best parts of the job is having those good conversations. I've connected over woot shirts, conventions, and I love when people take my suggestions. I don't understand how people can be pissy, grumpy, rude, etc. when they're coming in to get ice cream. It's ice cream! A comodoty that you don't need, not in the slightest. This will slowly kill you, so be happy you're getting it.

I still pride myself on the lazy/friendly factor. Last night a large part of bachellorettes came in. I was able to convince 6 of them to get a pack of our cupackes. I tend to joke the truth to convince people. "It'll save you a ton of money... and save me a ton of work." I use this line more than I should. I get everything from a chuckle to a gaffaw, but it never works as much as I'd like.

The problem with this and all jobs and my place in them is that I want to make people happy. I suppose if I got commition for selling ice cream, I'd be more convincing in gettting them to have the Gotta Have It Signature in a Waffle Cone. But, I don't. I get the same $8.25 an hour (thanks to the recent wage increase) no matter what + tips. So, I work for tips. And, if I get someone to spend less money, they may tip me higher.

"By the way, it's only 30 cents more to upgrade to the bigger size. You might as well get it. You can save the rest for later, thus saving you money in the long run."

Sometimes, everyone's wishes come together.

Want some ice cream?

Have you ever made a decision and quickly realized you want to back out of it? It's normally too late. I actually have the opportunity to say no. No thanks. I don't want this. It will hurt too much if I have it. It's not a good thing to do all the time, I understand. But... once. Maybe. It'd be nice.

Time is just a way of saying I'm sorry for not writing.

I just finished writing a paper on whether Iago was a human being gone bad or a demon. I suppose my mind was made up before I even started. It's too easy to call anyone a demon. Life is hard. People are bad. We make stupid decisions.

I make a lot of stupid decisions. List of stupid decisions:

1) Not trying harder in Intro to Psych. I haven't gotten lower than a B- since I started college. I will fuck that up this summer vacation where I barely tried in my summer classes. I have to at least get a C-. I have to at least pass. Please.

2) Pushing the boyfriend. His move is imminent and I can't wait. I mean, I can, but it's hard. I nag, I admit this. I don't want to. He tries as hard as he can to make me happy. But, I swear to god, it is so weird to have sex in his parents' basement. Going upstairs in the morning and saying hello is an awkward experience every time.
I may not feel so bad about that part. It's more because of his family. I'm American, through and through. Dating him has made me realize this more than anything. He loves and wishes to please his family so much in a way I just don't understand. I get jealous when he spends time with them, because I don't understand a 25 year old who has a good job that wants to move out still having such strong feelings about his family. Now, his parents are some of the most wonderful human beings I have ever met. I adore them. I think. I mean, I can't spend too much time around them. I'm not aloud to. Not that he's embarrassed about anyone. It's just, nobody would feel completely comfortable with the slight language barrier and, well, just how the family dynamic is.
I'm ranting. I don't want to rant. I don't want to push. I just feel like we won't have a real, grown-up relationship until he moves out.

3)Lack of goals. I wish I had them, besides being happy. It's kind of a cop out, I admit. I have a plan I tell people to make them happy, but is it a goal? I still believe if I have a 9-5 job and my boyfriend, I'll be happy and I don't need more than that. Am I lying to myself? Will I feel the same in 5, 10, 20 years?

I'm happy. Look, I'm so very happy and delighted and in love and finding myself becoming a cooler, better person everyday.

As long as I'm not Iago...

14 credit hours
+ 20 hours work per week
---------------------------
life?

Sorry. Unable to calculate problem at this moment in time. Please try again later.

Injury Log

Bruises covering legs from knees upwards: climbing in windowsill
Cut lip: Stage Combat gone wrong (rolled over face)
Some sorta fucked up hip bone: Stage Combat gone wrong (kick to the hip bone)

Using this as an excuse to take off school on the nicest day of the year so far: priceless

The answer is sad, but confused with a hint of wonder.

And as my boyfriend's illness disappears with the wind, it flies back around to stab others in the back.

Let me explain.

His grandmother is now sick. A fever. More, I do not know. Details? I probably won't ever know more.

Let me explain.

His grandmother HATES me. Not hates. HATES. She only speaks Russian, so communication between us involves her disapproving looks. I am a Russian Jew. So is my boyfriend. But, I am not Russian. I am American. His family is Russian. She thinks no one is good enough for her grandson, even though she's yelled at him to change. Yelling. I go around different sides of the house to avoid her. For myself. For my boyfriend's request.

And how do I feel when I find out she's sick?

My Present: Adorable Shirt

He says that he only has a flu. Nothing more. I feel surprised, surprised that I'm surprised, that he went to a doctor. I will visit him. I will deliver his favorite banana ice cream. He will, in return, give me a present which I know nothing about. No kisses. No hugs. No touches. And he promises that we will celebrate in a big, bad way another day. And I just want him to feel better.

Fighting For Valentine'sDay

There's a lump in my throat, barely noticeable from my usual muted tone. This weekend will send me into spirals. Weeks ago, I smiled at the thought of Valentine's Day. Not special because of what it is, but what I was and then wasn't when last year's past. The first time we had sex. The first time I had sex. And, we're still together. I think, yes, happier than ever after a rough period.

It first came to my attention when I realized I hadn't asked off for work that night. I had just started getting scheduled for Saturday nights and didn't expect to have to. Fine. We'll have the day. We'll have the night. More than usual if it was a weekday.

Then, the almighty sign that I am a woman, the ability to have the children that I don't want now, pops up. Fine. We'll have the day. We'll have the night. We'll have sex later. At least we'll be with each other.

Yesterday he called me, sick, asking that I find another ride from work. Successful, I called him back. 102.5 fever, he informed me. Flu.

Today he says his fever is even higher, though I am unsure how much. This is not fine. I worry. I make him promise to call me if he goes to the hospital. I had pneumonia a few years ago which can occur from the flu. I was in the hospital for a week. Bedridden at home for another. I worry.

I brought home banana ice cream for him from work. His favorite. I will deliver it tomorrow with a note. Though I may not be able to see him, it's all I can do to... it's all I can do.

Valentine's Day is the day to hope that love can cure all wounds.

and so i found the world
in a haystack
not another word
about how i discovered it

selling me by pieces
one at a time
i know diseases
are not at the bottom of this

crazy mixed up totally stable one of a kind

Cryptic as my last post was, I clear it up now by stating that my boyfriend and I are back together. There are things that I worry about, as after a year together, I must expect certain things out of the relationship. I fully admit that these may cause another, more permanent break up, if he doesn't understand.

However, my life does not revolve around him and, if it ever does, please punch me in the face. No, I have new, more tangible things to worry about. Namely money and school. The lack of hours at work have left me all together broke. This is compounded by the start of school next week. As helpful as the lack of hours are to keeping up with my school work, I need survival. I want... need a new job by summer. Before it gets warm, even. It's not fair to talk about school before I start, so that will have to wait.

I have an idea as to how to make money, but there are some people who are sure as hell not going to like it. My boyfriend possibly being a big one. Still...

In a sense, I've always wanted to love someone so much that when I lost them, I would feel lost. I always end up losing someone. Always sabotage myself. As I've said before, the hardest part is waiting. The hardest part is not knowing. The hardest part is not having a choice. I pushed the button, now I have to deal with the consequences. And the longer it takes, the less hope I have.

I'm so tired.

At the moment that I am writing this, it is -5(F) in Chicago. But, nobody cares what the actual temperature is. Our eyes all glance over at what it really feels like. Never does it feel warmer, to brace against the cold chill. Still, we hope that it is more hopeful than the -24(F) it feels at the moment that I am typing this.

When I go to work tonight, it will not be much different. Not much better. Or worse. I work in a very weather specific environment. Ice cream, to be exact. Although we do get customers in these cold Chicago nights, I wonder who will come in tonight. Their breath, illuminated by the kind of lights that make you blink your eyes once or twice to get used to them, but you never do. Hands, rubbing together vigorously to get warm, only to be cold again once they wrap their mittens around that red cup. You've 'Gotta Have It' to come out in this kind of weather.

But, I'll be there.

To the last child.

Sometimes, I check up on you, to see how you're doing. And, though you're fixated on tits and ass and all that come between and below, the need for a someone and not a something can be seen through the cracks of desperation. I want to tell you how important you were to me in me becoming me, but I don't want you to imagine me more naked than I was last time I was in your arms while I tell you this.

We weren't a public thing, though I told while you never took my hand. I want to tell you that I wanted more and, yet, I left only missing something rather than someone. Maybe it's not fair of me to say. Maybe you should stop having affairs and start having and holding. I have. It's nice.

Still, this isn't about me, as it usually is. If I could, I would bow to you. Tip my bowler hat. And gently smile a knowing smile, knowing that I know nothing. At least, not as much as you. Not nearly.