I saw the sign...

... and it opened up my eyes.

unforced merriment

So, the last few days have shimmered with happiness-inspired awesomeness.

For starters, after mulling it over extensively during my Gilbert Family Reunion road trip, a few days ago I un-Facebook-friended the person who's been a major source of disappointment and negativity over the last couple of weeks, which was a HUGE STEP for someone like me. I never cut people out, even when they fully deserve it. (Which, now that I think about it more fully, might help explain the 'boomerang boys' effect, eh Tommy?) I was so proud of myself for standing up and taking charge ... it felt really good, like a weight had been lifted. Once again, Maggie's advice was right on target. Be proud of me.

In other exciting news, I found out my fall TA assignment today, and it's about as sweet as it gets. I have been assigned to the guy who persuaded me to come to Vanderbilt in the first place, a man whose research closely aligns to my own interests and who seems genuinely interested in helping grad students find their way in academia. I am THRILLED. What's more, he's teaching an intro-level undergrad course, so it seems highly likely I'll get to guest teach his class at least a few times over the course of the semester... and while I still have my own teaching endeavors to fuel my addiction, having the chance to teach Vandy undergrads will be fantastic. When I saw that e-mail, I literally came out of my chair in a giddy jump/wiggle.

Finally, I would be remiss if I failed to mention the wonder I feel at having met someone who is sufficiently interested in me to have read three years of this blog's archives AND the 20+ pages of "Allen from Allen" e-mails. I'm overwhelmed, actually.

Life's good. Despite the fact that I'm working my tail off, I'm having a great summer and know I'm going to be energized and ready for the fall semester start next month. That's always good.

And, lest we forget, Tracy, myself, and others are all planning a big road trip to Mountain Home for the BEAT HARRISON game this fall. I have spent too many football seasons making excuses not to go to Bomber football games, and I am determined to make this trip happen. It'll be awesome!

good news, bad news

When I got back from the reunion and checked my mail, I found the annual letter from Vandy parking letting me know how to procure my bargain-basement (ha!) parking permit for next year.

Good news: Vandy has managed to change my name everywhere! Woot!

Bad news: They spelled it wrong. Everywhere. D'oh!

I'm thrilled to have my family name back, even though the universe seems incapable of spelling it correctly. To Vandy, for the time being, I'm a Morell. I called them this morning, and they assure me they'll get that fixed post haste. Next, I fully expect the more common misspelling (Norrell) to slip through. Ahhh, well.

My favorite name-change incident came when I went to the bank to change it with them. The woman I talked to totally cracked me up -- she said, "you're changing from a pickle to a nice-smelling perfume from the 80s!" haha

say what you will about me ...

... but one thing's for sure: I try hard, perhaps too hard, to end things on a positive, amicable note, and to keep people in my life to the fullest extent they will allow me.

But it's got to end. And I mean, now.

I've kept a lot of this to myself lately, largely because I haven't felt like anyone around me would understand this impulse I feel, so instinctual that I have very little actual control over it, to keep a certain someone (let's call him Dr. Jones, another of Tommy's always spectacular nicknames) around. Dr. Jones treated me badly, and even though he both apologized later and said he doesn't want to lose me as a friend, he continues to be a source of frustration and disappointment. When I tried to speak my mind in an honest and open way, I was met with total silence; when I then made an admittedly snarky comment about how, if he wanted to communicate more than every few days, he should let me know, I was subsequently accused of being uncivil and disrespectful. Actually, you know what, here's the relevant block o' correspondence:

it makes me feel angry at you for not being civil and respectful. if you truly want to be my friend, stop this word play right now. that is not how friends treat each other. if i am upset at someone, i tell them, but i don't insult them at the same time. it's making me feel more distant from you. is that what you want?

And you know what? It was with these words, that most recent accusation hurled my way electronically, that I was FINALLY (hallelujah!) able to understand what's really happening here. Without being too blunt, I've dealt with this kind of communication before, and it did not end especially well. And I'll be damned if I'm going back down that road again. Oh, helllllllls nooooooo!!

It's time for me to move on. There is nothing to be gained from my independently pursuing this whole let's-be-friends business any farther. If Dr. Jones wants to be my friend, he's going to have to earn that friendship. 'Cause God knows, nothing about his behavior in the last nine days has remotely earned my trust or engendered positive, warm-fuzzy, friendship sorts of feelings in me.

So there you have it. My pledge, on this day, to give it up. I'm washing my hands. Life's too fucking short to waste my energy or capacity to care on someone who can't appreciate that gift for what it is -- rare and special and wonderful.

a tug of war

It's such a bizarre feeling, sensing an almost gravitation pull towards another person and yet simultaneously feeling pushed back by forces unseen and unknowable.

Is it all internal, my own perpetual battle between heart and mind, passion and logic? Is it one more manifestation of my own dogged relationship neuroses, amplified by the fact that I'm working too hard and giving up too much free time (a situation entirely borne of out of necessity, I should add)?

Unanswerable questions, at least for now. And wisely so. :)

musical awesomeness

Last night, I finally got to see a full-band show with The Floating Men, and it was so good that it took my breath away. There is something so indescribably amazing about being in the room (a small room, at that) when really good music is being played. It moves me, renders me speechless, and often tempts my eyes into closing so as to focus more fully on the notes washing over me. Three hours of their music was nowhere near adequate, and I was left wanting more, more, more. Now. {sigh} But, alas, their next show isn't for several weeks, and that's in Atlanta. Time to start scheming on how to make that road trip a possibility. :)

Another interesting thing happened last night... and honestly, I am kinda surprised this has never happened before. (Just goes to show that Nashville's the smallest place I've ever lived, eh? ha!) When I arrived and was waiting in line to get into the venue, I almost immediately recognized a guy standing several people ahead of me as someone I once e-mailed on a dating Web site, but who never replied. (Asshole! haha) This was months ago, but he had a very distinctive look. He and the girl he was there with orbited in fairly close proximity to Derik and I all night, including standing directly behind us during the first set. They were among the many people who utterly pissed me off last night by talking throughout the show, and so when the band took a break, Derik leaned over and said, "Good thing he didn't write you back." I was thinking the same thing!! Funny, isn't it, how life always seems to work out for the best? Like, some asshole who talks during musical performances at small venues also couldn't be bothered to reply with a simple, "No, thanks" when I contacted him. Yup. It all just works out, my friends.

oh, my.

Things are good, my friends. Very, very good.