Tired

I started this blog about a year and a half ago, a period in my life that the Caterpillar and I refer to as "Alice's Winter of Discontent." I was in a life slump, and needed an outlet. I still like to blog, but I've grown tired of the format of this site -- and seriously tired of calling people Wonderland-themed nicknames. Yeah, at the beginning that seemed fun and clever, and now it just gets on my nerves.

Instead, I'd like to write about the things I really love in life. And what do I love? Food, travel, and the wonderful people in my life. No gimmicks, no themes, no hackneyed nicknames. Of course, I could just use this same site to write about different topics, but the format feels stale and stagnant and in need of a change as well. So I'm going to start fresh, and see where it takes me.

Oh, and the aforementioned Caterpillar? Her name's Mary.


*And of course, you can always check out what Stefanie's been up to. That blog's not going anywhere, I promise.

Ro Sham Bo

A few quick updates, lots of changes in my life right now.

Rock.

We're engaged!

Paper.

We bought a condo!

Scissors.

The inevitable personnel cuts at work. I'm a lady of leisure now!

Holy Crackers, Where've I Been?

Oh, right.


The Bahamas.


And putting a bid down on an apartment with the White Rabbit. And having it be accepted.


SHIT, April.

I Cannot Tell a Lie

Isn't it glorious? Love, love, love!

Oh yeah, and the cherry blossoms are nice, too.

What a Card!

I've been seeing playing cards. On the street, in the grass, all over.

I did not pose this one, I swear.

I feel like this has to mean something. What could it mean?

It means... I'm King of my castle?

Maybe I'm just grasping at straws.

It means... I've been dealt a good hand.*

Either way, I like it. Feels lucky.


*Maybe it means I'm out of terrible puns. Hmm.

Stranger on a Train

Sometimes strangers make me cheerful! Like little kids in down jackets, arms forcibly splayed sideways, playing with snowballs. That thug-looking teen who gave up his metro seat to that very pregnant woman who had just gotten on the train. Elderly couples who walk hand-in-hand. That beautiful Ethiopian woman who worked at that pizza shop I frequented back when I interned in DC, who called me Sweetie as she brought me my usual veggie slice and lemonade.

Sometimes strangers break my heart.

I was on the train yesterday afternoon when a metro train driver got on my car, wearing the standard fluorescent yellow mesh vest. He slouched into the seat in front of me and pulled out his phone as the train pulled away from the station.

His phone was high up enough for me to see the text he was composing -- I wasn't trying to read it, but there it was. "I don't know what you want me to say. Just tell me what you want to do so we can be done with it."

My inner voyeur jolted. UH OH! she thought. Shit's going down! Then he paused before sending it, and scrolled down so the previous message was showing. The one that prompted his text.

"I think we need to talk," it said. "I'm not happy with this marriage anymore."

I felt like someone had poured ice water down my back. I was simultaneously overwhelmed with awkwardness at unintentionally invading his privacy at what was probably one of his most vulnerable moments; and a bone-crushing sadness, not only to be witnessing the breakup of a marriage, but that said breakup was happening via text message. Text message! He leaned his head against the glass of the train window, as if trying to melt into his surroundings, fluorescent vest and all.

And just the day before, I had felt positively consumed with love. I still do. Life's funny that way.

PS: How about a cheerier post? Let's say, tomorrow? I feel like I've been a downer lately!

I Promise I'm Okay

Four different people have, within the last five days, asked me if I'm okay.

Not the joking kind, like when you have a coughing fit and, after rounds of semi-restrained laughter and choruses of "DRINK MUCH?!" someone invariably snarks, "Um, are you okay?"

The genuinely concerned kind. The kind that comes with a head-tilt and a lowered voice, as if talking about something taboo, something shameful. As if you've been giving out a vibe that causes your friends to think you're inches away from bursting into tears, or going on some kind of bender.

Am I giving off that vibe? Do I seem weird to you?

It's very sweet, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that I have such great friends (and family) to be concerned about me when they think something's wrong. On the other hand, I'm getting kind of weirded out.

See, the thing is: I'm fine. There's absolutely nothing wrong at all. Or, rather, nothing more severe than usual. I mean, sure -- I'm a touch anxious about all the pervasive life uncertainty, and yeah, wearing my wool peacoat and my scarves is growing sort of tiresome. But show me the woman who isn't anxious about something, anything in her current life; show me the woman who doesn't die a little bit inside every day past the Spring Equinox that she wakes up to a forecast of "feels like" 19 degrees. Show me that woman and I will show you a filthy liar.

Friends of mine, you're wonderful. I love you, and I love that you love me back. I love that you're concerned about me.

But I promise you, I'm okay.