So I've been yelling at the TV again...

I am brilliant. We know this. But some times my own brilliance astounds me. (Don’t rain on my brilliance parade, aight?) I’m watching Criminal Minds. I don’t watch it often but when I catch it, I tend to enjoy it (due in large to Greg from Dharma and Greg but I digress). The killer provided the team with several clues from which they deduced that the killer was referencing a book published in 1963. As I surveyed the clues, including a Chaucer poem, a butterfly, a key, and clues indicating a British author – I couldn’t help but scream to the poor nerdy guy trying to figure it out “John Fowles!! The Collector!!!” I shouted this several times before the nerdy guy figured it out. Sadly, he had never read the chilling tale of love and obsession; it’s a personal fave from high school days. Apparently I need to put myself on some call list for obscure literary references provided by serial killers. I would rock that job out.

Speaking of Fowles: The Collector, his first novel, is truly amazing and more than slightly creepy. This creepiness is even more chilling and well-worth devouring in The Magus, my favorite Fowles novel. And this is the book nerd signing off.

Wrapped up like a douche

I sing a long with the radio; and while I don’t think that a music producer who happens to be at a stoplight beside while I do my rendition of Paint it Black will ever sign me, I don’t let my lack of talent hold me back. Perhaps my most favorite songs are those with lyrics that I don’t understand or that are easily altered. I really love the ones that I have to google to figure out exactly what’s being sung, as was the case this weekend. My lyrical knowledge, once acquired, does not change the lyrics I create. This weekend’s gem would be the wonderful Blinded by the Light, which, for me and Ashley, has always mentioned being wrapped up like douche and has nothing to do with being revved up like a deuce. Good times. Oh so good.

And that was just one of the many classic Tommi & Ash times of the weekend (or, as I like to call it, T&A time). The weekend was over much too fast for me and it was a bit unsettling when he left as it seemed he’d never really been here. (Then I discovered the stuff he’d left behind—which I’ve since hocked on ebay.) I don’t really remember when the last time I actually saw him was. Unfortunately, I want to say it was this time last year but I can’t wrap my mind around not seeing for that long so I’m sure there’s been a more recent time I’ve just forgotten about. Anywho, he drove up from ATL on Friday and got here around 2:30ish. I’d taken half a personal day off from work and fun times ensued. From listening to a waitress go into full out screaming mode with a coworker about religion and what the Bible does and does not say to being asked by a woman as we stood in front of the Old Well where the famous well was on campus, it was so typical of what life with Ash is. Boy, do I love this kid.


Plans were made that weren’t actually ever realized but the great thing is that with him, plans falling through aren’t really a problem. Doesn’t really matter what we do when I’m with him, just that we’re doing it together. I mean just sitting in the Red Roof Inn parking lot could be a barrel of monkey fun. I was oh-so close to busting my hockey cherry, but once we got there and haggled for free parking (Ash showed his boobs and the $8 fee was waived), we discovered that the only tickets were over $50 a pop so that cherry is still quite intact. Another day, another game, perchance. He still owes me one from sophomore year. We went to Crazy Fire (YAY!) and then the Flying Saucer (Double YAY!), caught some of the hockey game on TV, I had a Guinness and some Duck Rabbit so my night was pretty complete and fulfilling. I’m really not a hard gal to please. A late night viewing of the 40 yr old Virgin made for two very tired campers the next day. And I was none to pleased to have to wake up to my mechanic telling me exactly how much it would cost to fix my truck, which I’d dropped off at the Ford place the night before. $450 is not what I want to be spending on my sweet ride at Christmas. But even that, nor my pounding headache, could keep me down. We went to Chinese 35s, just like old times, though neither one of us really ate as much as once did. My reasons revolved around my pounding head, not sure what slowed Ash’s appetite. Then we hit the campus. Quite literally. I was floored. I haven’t been on campus in around a year, I guess, and the changes are astounding. There are some parts where, if you took me there blindfolded and then let me see my surroundings, I wouldn’t be able to find my bearings. It’s growing up. Boy is it growing up. Still just as beautiful as ever. And nothing does my heart than being on UNC’s campus with my all time favorite Tarheel. Time passed quickly and before too long I had to go pick up my truck before they closed at 6. At this point, the head was so bad that all I wanted was some drugs and to go to sleep, which is what I did after getting the truck. The nap (and drugs) did me well, but we still didn’t get to the company Christmas party. One thing after another, due mostly to my lack of motivation in going. I guess I was being selfish – I didn’t want to rub shoulders with the big dogs and kiss ass; I just wanted to hang out with Ashley. And the night ended up being pretty perfect just the way it went, with no party – just me and him riding around, like old days. It felt so good. I’d forgotten how happy I can be. Giddy even. I’m pretty darn sure his presence releases endorphins in my brain.

So the weekend was a success. His visit was a success. And even though we didn’t get to the hockey game or the company party, I don’t think I’d have changed anything other than how early he had to leave this morning to get to his church’s Christmas function and surprise his family. He is so good.

I love Ashley and that adoration now has its very own blog and a table at Jack Astor’s devoted to expressing it. However, I’d like to take this opportunity to blame Ashley for the cold I’m coming down with. If I remember correctly, he complained of a scratchy throat on Friday, which he attributed to screaming Aerosmith songs for six hours. My throat is pretty bad today and I’m going to blame him so this blog isn’t filled with nothing but admiration and love speak for the boy. But cold aside, I do love him and hope another visit can be arranged before he heads back to Atlanta. How I do like being happy.

Early Farewell to 2006

As the year winds down, I find myself excited that it’s coming to a close. 2006 was not a good year for the roses. Officially my most stressful year in a long time, it has taken a toll on me both physically and mentally and while I am recovering, it’s been a wee bit difficult picking myself up and dusting me off.

The year started on a bad note – with tensions high over PhD applications. Then in February, my thesis director passed away. As I struggled with my thesis committee and my thesis in general, I toyed with abandoning it completely. I didn’t want to do Gordimer without Gay. So much of my research revolved around Gay and her own postcolonial work that it was painful to do it without her. I couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Months later, I’ll say that I’m glad I went through with my Gordimer research – but it was certainly difficult rediscovering my passion for South African literature without Gay. As the year rolled along and the seasons began to change, I was forced to deal with the actually writing and defending of the thesis. I never realized, or had never been in a situation, where so much was riding on something I was doing solo. While the defense was in many ways liberating, the build up was enough to tear me down. Toss PhD rejections into the mix, and I was not at my best during those times.

And then it came. The infamous acceptance letter. To stay or go – that was the question. In the end, after much personal debating, I turned Georgia and my PhD down. Maybe I’ll rekindle the PhD dream on another day. You’d think after defending my thesis and making plans to move to the Triangle and find a job, I’d be happy. But May brought about a close. Graduation means change. Friends moved. And a life for so long spent in school, became quite empty outside of it. I’ve never been the best with change, and my own moving and trying to find a job kept me in a constant state of disarray. Months were spent job searching and then, finally, SUCCESS. I thought the year had turned. But before the dust had settled, my grandmother passed away. And then, less than a month later, my grandfather became extremely ill and almost died. And now, a month after that – I’m waiting for the close of the year in hopes that everything remains stable and constant between now and the start of ’07.

I still question my decision to turn down Atlanta. I’m not sure my reasons were pure. I still wonder about my current employment situation – is it really what I should be doing? And I’m still petrified that something will happen to any of the three remaining grandparents. I don’t like stress. I don’t like this constant worry and self-doubt. My face keeps breaking out and my stomach is daily in knots and let’s not mention that the headaches are back in full force. That must change. That is not me. I’m supposed to be a happy gal.

I’m trying to end the year on a good note in hopes that it rings in ’07 in the best of notes. A very much loved friend is visiting this coming weekend and it has the makings of being one really fantastical weekend. Kara and Adrienne will both be around during the holidays at some point in time and when all of us kids get together, it truly brightens my day. On a good note, this year will end. On a good note.