And so...

You know, I'm no stranger to blogging. I got into it way back in '01, when the concept was hip and fresh. The thing all the kids were doing, not to mention all the indie hipster twenty-somethings. Some of them have continued on, building the blog-o-sphere word by word, phrase by phrase into something real and tangible.

Don't get me wrong, I don't for a second believe that what is written by faithful bloggers out here in the ether of our world is on the lips of citizens of our global village every day by the watering hole in the same way as say... I don't know... Well, I would say that episode of Desperate House Wives that was on last night, but the writer's strike has screwed even that up, hasn't it? What we write here, what we pour out of our brains for naked inspection by anyone with an internet connection and the ability to google our especial brands of sarcasm or wit, is each our own part of a collective world view.

I don't know about you (and odds are, if you're reading this you blog too. That's kind of how the community works, isn't it?) but I blog because I just want to put it all down so things will make sense. Sometimes that "sense" is so I can get the wording right on something funny that happened to me and therefore tell a more effective anecdote on a girls night out. More often than not, though, it's more literal than that. The last year of my life have been bar none the most trying of my somewhat young life. I haven't written, truly written, since before this whole mess started last spring, and I wonder if that hasn't slowed down my recovery.

"But what whole mess?" you might say. "Jesus, if this bitch is going all cryptic this soon into it, I'm outtie."

Clearly you are a reader of discerning taste. To this I say, all in good time. For right now, I'm tired of being serious. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime. Or at least until I can put all of this mostly behind me.

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On a lighter note, I got to see my man over last weekend.

Hmm... Wait, y'all have no blessed clue about my love life yet. Okay, here's the quick and dirty he-said she-said version of my relationship with the Beard.

Angstia: Nice profile. I also like zombies.
Beard: What a coincidence. Let's play Literati on yahoo so I can assess whether or not you're dumb.
Angstia: I like that plan for the same reason you put forward.
Beard: Your emails are well written and interesting.
Angstia: I noticed you're not commenting on me kicking your ass multiple times. You clearly have tact. Let's talk on the phone.
Beard: Wow, you don't sound like be Arthur at all. Large boobs you say?
Angstia: Very.
Beard: Yes, well, let's meet
Angstia: You're tall and have a voice low enough to rival Ving Rhames? Bring it.

At the in person meeting

Angstia: You're way hotter than I thought
Beard: So are you
they make out
Beard: Wanna be my girlfriend?
Angstia: Yeah, wanna be by boyfriend?
Beard: Word. Let's watch a crappy teen movie and then have sex for the first time.
Angstia: Sounds like a plan.

Some time later

Beard: I love you.
Angstia: I love you too. Especially when you do that.
Beard: Oh, sorry. It helps me think.
Angstia: It sucks that we live so far apart.
Beard: I'd walk the 300 miles if I had to to get to you.
Angstia: How long until you finish school?
Beard: 1 year.
Angstia: You do realize you'll be my sex slave thereafter, right?
Beard: Can I?
Angstia: MAY you.
Beard: Exactly.

And that pretty much brings you up to date. We're sitting at about 5 months now and are just waiting on him finishing school so he can move over here and we can start our life together. He comes over here more than I go over there, which I'm trying to remedy. His schedule is just more flexible than mine, though. I have the kind of job you can't call in sick for when you want a "mental health" day because it's the kind of job you can't just run short staffed on. People could, quite literally, die because you wanted to stay home and watch The Holiday while you painted your toes and ate cookie dough.

Not that I've done that. I'm just taking creative license.

In any case, he's got that lovely school pace of life, with regular breaks for holidays and the end of semester. I swear, if I ever got an entire month off of work, I'd seriously worry about my ability to do my job when I got back. Luckily I was able to finagle shift trades with my co-workers for the time he was in town for Martin Luther King Jr. Day so I could spend the entire time with him.

When Beard comes to visit, it's like time suspends itself. I don't worry about work, or whether or not my co-workers like me. I don't worry about laundry or dishes or bills or any of the myriad things I busy myself with in day to day life. I just revel in the feeling of his huge, strong arms wrapped around me in a bone-cracking hug the moment he first walks through the door. The look of relief that shines from his face when he realizes he's here and the next however long will be occupied with us and only us. The smell of his skin when we're curled up to go to bed and my face is nuzzled into his chest, the hairs tickling my nose and the faint scent of his soap and his own natural musk.

Are you barfing yet? Really? You should be. My friends would be irritated if we weren't so damned cute together. All of my friends, and I mean ALL of them, genuinely like him. This is a far cry from my usual pattern:

Angstia: Mistress, Boss Lady, I'd like you to meet AssholeICan'tBelieveIWasEngaged to.
Mistress & Boss Lady: Hi Rick.
Rick: So uh... You guys aren't feminists, are you? All feminists are lesbians.
Mistress & Boss Lady: ... Uh...
Angstia: Ha! Isn't he funny? Don't mind him he's just kidding.
Rick: Yeah. Kidding. Anyway, lesbians are just pale shadows of men. You know, hot to trot but you've still got to squat, I always say. They can't drive either.
Angstia: Okay, now you're kind of embarassing me, honey.
Rick: What? It's funny when Carlos Mencia does it.
Mistress & Boss Lady: ...
Angstia: Soo... Want to see my ring? *nervous laugh*

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And now that I mention dishes, I've need to get my shit together. My roomie's boyfriend, who is also long-distance if you can handle THAT coincidence, will be visiting this weekend and I'd like for it to not be a sty when he arrives.

~Angstia