Busy B!

I have been using several exclamation points in my emails in the past day or so!

I think the busy, rushed schedule of the end of the semester is causing my written communication to come across as somewhat hyper!

Look out! She's got a keyboard and she's swamped with work!

(I've also been typing kind of like an animated squirrel. My touching of the keys is rather punctuated. Lifting the fingers a little higher off the keys than usual, with a very staccato landing on each one. "H!" "i!")

Parenting

A girl in Starbucks at the table next to mine just told her father:

"Dad, Santa's not real."

I missed the conversational result of the comment, as my phone then rang.

I can report, however, that their conversation appears to have changed course.

By the way, if you can't tell I'm a total expert at coffee-shop eavesdropping.

Hmm

The lip gloss I was wearing earlier looks good, but I would avoid kissing someone while wearing it.

It's so thick it's like glue.

And I don't mention that as a problematic characteristic in the sense that two pairs of lips could become "glued" together, although that is worthy of thought...

Spying

I'm spying on two people--I mean, grading student projects--at Starbucks who are on a date. This is either a really good first date, or a second or third date that's leading to another.

It's possible they're already a couple, but I'm getting the sense they're still getting to know each other. Not that people in relationships aren't still getting to know each other; they are.

Whatever the case, I'm happy for these people. There are so many bad dates that go down, it's nice to see people enjoy each other.

They seem to be letting their guards down, he's attentively, genuinely listening to her storytelling, with a smile on his face. He's asking questions. They've both laughed several times.

Good job, two people I don't know. Thumbs up to you.

My imaginary assistant

Okay, so I've written about this before, but I just keep coming back to it in my thoughts.

So. I highly doubt, folks, that I'm the only one who fantasizes about having a personal assistant, masseuse, chef, etc. from time to time.

(First of all, I'd pick masseuse over chef though I could benefit from both.)

Second, my thoughts regarding what I will call a general assistant keep coming back to this idea of the item that I would continually ask said assistant to fetch for me were I to actually have this assistant. In fact, I think I'd feel strange asking an assistant to do many other assistant duties, such as making me coffee or tidying my living room. Except I might feel comfortable asking him or her to answer non-fun, work-ish emails.

But what I think about, anywhere from once a week to once every six months, is this:

I wish someone (and, since I don't have a boy toy currently, this someone is in my mind an assistant to non-celebrity me) could go procure candy for me. Particularly at odd hours of the night.

Like now, for example.*

Sometimes I just want Swedish Fish or Smarties. Or Skittles, Reese's. And I don't want to get off my butt and go get them. Or it seems ridiculous to do so late at night.

*That's actually a line from a character named Bailey in a film--bonus points to anyone who can identify the exact character.

Wow, this is the third post about money in less than two weeks

I went to the mall today to get my haircut, and I managed to leave the mall having paid only for the haircut.

I went into the PINK store and Bath & Body Works, and saw items that I would have liked to purchase (including a shirt with a message about MU Tigers being the best kissers...), but I left that mall without buying the kissing t-shirt or the spearmint lotion.

I will accept your congratulations now. In the form of clothing or lotion, if you're offering.

Jordin and Bails

I found out yesterday (ahem, from the ticker tape roll of some celebrity gossip channel, probably E!) that Jordin Sparks' best friend is named Bailey! I was already a fan of JS, this makes me like her even more! And since we're on the subject, let's have a song, shall we?

Stretching the pocketbook

I just asked my mom for a baking dish, so I can make stuff like lasagna.

I must be getting older; I'm finally asking for kitchen items for Christmas.

That, and I'm broke and lasagna sounds good. I can afford the noodles and the sauce, but buying a dish might be a little much for me right now.

Holding on to my pocket change, thank you very much

This week I was reunited with my friend Kim, who recently returned from her service in the Peace Corps, and during one of our conversations I told her that I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the suburbs.

There are more reasons than one why this sentiment is sometimes true for me, but one of them is that suburban parking--generally speaking--is free.

I am currently sitting in Starbucks, in a suburb, where the parking is indeed free. And there were several available spots in the parking lot when I arrived, and there still are. Even if I had to park at the nearby bank, on foot it would take me less than two minutes to walk from car to front door of the 'Bucks.

At this time in my life I live in a college town (I'm visiting my family for Thanksgiving break, hence my present presence in a suburban Starbucks). Parking in a college town is, in two words--because I don't want to pick one: obnoxious and aggravating.

There are exceptions, but so often in a trendy, crowded college downtown, you have to pay to park, you have to search for a space, and where you park doesn't necessarily put you very close to your destination building. In fact, unless you have a special permit to park in a lot nearby your place of work, where you park is rarely near to where you want to end up.

Add to this headache that if you are short one dime, or a meter has a 2-hour limit and you really need to park for three hours but don't have the time to find another spot (or there aren't any nearby that are available), or your class or meeting or coffee date goes just a little too long, etc. etc., then you might find a little envelope on your windshield demanding even more money than you're already spending to park in the first place.

Day after day.

Some minutes ago, here in my alma mater workplace, this suburban Starbucks, I vaguely thought to myself about the potential of a ticket being placed on my windshield. I had that slight panic/annoyance/call it what you may that you get when you think, "Do I need to put more money in the meter?"

Then I realized: Relax. You're in the suburbs, Baby.

Cat face

I love my cat so much (most of you know this), but I'm also quite excited to see this one soon soon soon:

Hey, they let me into graduate school

When I was being somewhat neglectful today, some dark blue nail polish landed in my bathroom sink.

I rinsed it with water, which spread it around.

"Crap!" I thought (and probably said aloud), wondering how I was going to remove it from the sink bowl.

I then sprayed it with a surface cleaner. Kind of worked, but not too great.

Then.

Yes, then, I realized:

Nail polish remover would probably do the trick.

I'm a genius.

Dinna!

Tonight a potato made me very happy.

A sweet potato, to be exact.

I cut it up. I'm not gonna say I cubed it, because I didn't--I prefer 3-dimensional non-cube polygon-ish shapes.

I put it in a baking dish (greased, but not sure that was necessary), added:

olive oil

cayenne pepper

cinnamon

cumin

nutmeg

salt

and roasted it at 350 degrees for an hour. Stirred it probably twice while it cooked.

So good. I was quite happy while eating it.

Yay for root vegetables!!

Entertainment for the 'rents

Fairly soon here I'm going to have to go some weeks without my kitten at my side.

:(

Here's why: I get a week off of school for Thanksgiving, which is too long to leave Diblets behind with a sitter when I go home. Thus he comes with me.

Problem: Diblets hates the car. He cries, sometimes he gets sick. All of this makes his mother either sick with worry or at least just very sad for her baby.

So last year I left him with the 'rents between Thanksgiving and winter break so that he wouldn't have to deal with extra car rides, and I'll be doing the same this year. I'm not looking forward to it, but I tell you this mostly to introduce you to the story I really want to tell you:

When I first came to school out here, we decided it would be less stressful on Dibbs and me to first move my stuff into my apartment and then retrieve Dibbs later. So he stayed with Mom and Dad for about 2 1/2 weeks while I got situated and made it through journalism 'boot camp,' and then I went to get him.

Blah blah blah.

Well sometime much later--I think it was this past spring or summer--I was at my parents' house and came across some photos of my Diblets.

While I am not my parents' youngest child, I was technically the last one to more or less permanently leave the nest, as I was still around after Riley Francis left for college. So keep in mind that when I started school out here it was M&D's first two weeks in a truly empty nest.

I think they might have been wondering what to do with themselves.

Because in these photos I found, Dibbs had been dressed in a t-shirt in one, posed to appear as if he were standing on a boogie board in another....there may have been more.

Dibbs wore similar expressions in each pic: not amused.

Well, at least Mom and Dad were amused.

Did I mention I love all three of them?

As my niece calls him: "El mo mo mo"

Yeah, I'm gonna be direct here. Go see this movie.

Another film review by yours truly:

Movie Review: Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey

A case for kittehs

Okay, y'all can make your arguments about why you think dogs are better than cats, but I just have to say.

No animal other than a cat can purr when you touch it, to show it's contentment with you, your presence, and your choice to pet it.

That's downright awesome, therapeutic, and spectacular. And a pretty great design choice on God's part, if I do say so.

You may not want to hear this, but...

I filed my nails while peeing tonight.

My schedule has me multi-tasking on a whole new TMI level.

On my nightstand

I'm reading "The House on Mango Street" right now.

I really like it.

Short. Sweet. (Truly sweet, not just "short and sweet").

You should give it a read. You might be able to finish it in one sitting.

What are you reading, friends?

An apology to my readers (those of you who are still reading the DB)

Dear friends,

Funny things are happening in my life.

Spiritual things are happening.

Things are being accomplished.

Thoughts are being thought.

And things are being written.

They're just not being written here, as of late, most of the time.

I so want to tell you all a story involving my cat, my oven, and my landlord (don't worry, no one was hurt) that happened here tonight, but I want to tell you in a funny, eloquent way that I know I'm capable of.

But I'm entering student grades online. And it's after midnight. And I'm hungry (I think, I'm not even sure). And I haven't gathered the trash, nor taken it outside. And I have another thing to post online for class by 9 am tomorrow. And I've overdrafted my bank account. And I have several assignments this week that I haven't started.

And I am sincerely grateful to God that my anxiety is under pretty good control at this moment in time. And I'm grateful that while my anxiety level was pretty high this past week, that I made it through. And I am praying for peace of mind in the days, weeks, and months ahead because this train of work is just going to keep coming and I have to keep getting stuff done.

And so...I can't tell you the story about the oven, and the cat, and one of my two awesome landlords just yet.

By the way, the cat is investigating the oven again...let me just give you the nutshell version: I'm afraid there might be a creature in there; with the oven turned on, nothing escaped, but now with the oven off again there is still a noise...

So I miss you guys, my audience, in some cases my friends (maybe some people I don't actually know in the audience? Raise your hands...). I hate that I'm not providing you with content. But as a writer, one of my pet peeves is shitty writing.

I don't want to provide you with shitty writing.

And the hours are just getting away from me.

So I'm sorry. Thank you for reading. I want to get back to the writing for you ASAP. Maybe I can get you a good (or good-ish) post every day during my Thanksgiving break.

Sigh.

Please be patient. Please read me when I'm back on the blogging radar (unless you don't like my writing, then maybe you shouldn't; I don't want to force you to read something you don't like). In the meantime I am on the journalistic radar (see yesterday's post for links. Oh, look at that, I posted two days in a row. Been a while since that had happened).

Love,

Bailey

Byline Babe

Well, my byline has greeted the world twice this week, so I'm going to put in some shameless plugs to my recent publications. Enjoy:

Generations keep tailgating legacies alive

Movie Review: The Big Year*

*If you haven't read Mark Obmascik's book, "The Big Year," it's worth picking up a copy. I loved it.

I miss people who are far away

Communicating over the phone is hard.

Especially when you feel like you're only, always, talking on the phone with people you love the most.

I was pretty amazed I had made it so far through the semester without any tears. They had to come sometime.

:(

Here's hoping for some revitalizing sleep.

Email from Nick: A reader

I'd like to provide you all with a smattering of some recent correspondence.

From Nick, who is a fantastic friend, which is an understatement.

Once upon a time we were pen pals, and by "we" I mean that Nick was an excellent pen pal, sending encouraging letters, with sarcastic P.S.'s, magazine clippings, original artwork, and I would write back on plain notebook paper, lamenting how much I hated my job and how depressed and lost I was.

Like I said: understatement.

Nick continues to provide me with weekly support. We miss each others' phone calls regularly, and when we do catch each other on the air waves he sometimes tells me, "Don't panic," before we say "love you" and hang up.

And then there are the emails.

Recently his emails have been pretty spot on with their sarcasm, or a perfect blend of sarcasm and support. We'll catalog those under "sarcastic support."

So, for your reading pleasure, I have compiled the following. Pop some popcorn and come on back for a little joviality:

From Sep. 27:

I sent Nick a little reminder that I am neurotic. He wrote back:

"so sleepy."

My response: "you're supposed to talk me out of my emotional pit." (I then said something nice about him getting some good sleep).

Nick: "i think i do enough talking you out of emotional pits. you need to find some calm pits for a change." (So sympathetic. It's heartwarming, really).

Me: "i'm eating pumpkin shaped, iced cookies. that's a pretty calm pit to be in.

and i have not yet cried this semester. you should be proud of me."

Nicholas, Sep. 28: "you should not cry in any semester. it shows weakness."

I believe I laughed out loud at this.

Sep. 29:

I asked Nick if we had discussed going to Punxsutawney, PA for next year's Groundhog Day (the latter is one of my favorite holidays, the former on my bucket list).

Nick: "i think that sounds like a terrible idea..."

Oct. 5:

I called Nick from a parking garage and left a message with the embarrassing confession that I was in my car and could not find my way out! of the garage.

Later--after I emerged--I got an email:

"in case you are still not out of the parking garage, here is some music to entertain you. (we are pretending you have a smart phone...)"

Nice to know that my bestie will send me a YouTube video before he'll call the cops. Noted. To be fair I didn't give him the name or latitudinal points of the garage so he couldn't have accurately reported my whereabouts to the authorities. Also, knowing me, he probably had the accurate hunch that eventually I would have rolled down my window to explain to a pedestrian that I was stuck in the effing garage and ask, "Could you please tell me how to get out of here?".

See this post from the archives for why he would suspect such behavior. ("Hi my name is Bailey and I'm not shy.")

.Mom

After searching for "Mom" several times in my phone contacts list, I decided to move Mom up in the list. She has priority in my life, certainly, but this is also an issue of the several other "M" contacts who are listed alphabetically before her in my phone.

So whenever I go to call Mom I have to scroll through several "M"s first.

Well today I tried to put a "1" in front of the word "Mom," to see if that would move her toward the top of the contact list.

I've done this for email. I have a folder called: "123 THESIS stuff!," the "123" being there simply to put it up higher in my line of vision so I don't have to search for it.

More recently, I believe, I added the folder "*more than i can chew," where contest opportunities, job opportunities, etc. go to be generally forgotten about. But at least there's an asterisk so that I can find the folder quickly.

Well in my attempt to add a "1" in front of Mom's contact listing in my phone, instead my phone added a period:

".Mom"

It put her toward the top of the contact list, so mission accomplished.

Then I realized that if you read it in a certain way, it kind of sounds like "dot com."

Dot Mom.

:) This could be a cute nickname. I'm pretty sure Dad would be on board with it, too.

Whiner

Maybe I'm cranky because I had plans to go home this weekend and those plans were cancelled.

Maybe it's because the vent over me at Starbucks is blowing cold air.

Maybe I just don't want to grade tests, and if they were out of the way I'd feel fine.

But most likely I think I'm suffering from anywhere-but-here syndrome.

Next weekend is the Chicago Marathon, in which four of my family members will be running and several others will be spectating. Unless I cram my weekend and commit to a seven hour solo drive each way, I won't be there.

My brother Patrick sent an email listing all the cute things that his daughter is doing these days--I can look forward to seeing those things at Christmas. And I'll probably have to reintroduce myself to her. I've considering posting videos to YouTube of myself so she'll have some idea of who Aunt Bailey is.

Did I mention it's freezing in this Starbucks?

I feel like I would be less cranky if I could even just be grading tests in my Starbucks back at home, where I used to work.

This is kind of ridiculous, to write myself a hypothetical prescription and imagine what it would be like to experience it, or assume that it would be better than my here and now.

I talked to my brother Kelly this week, and after disagreeing with him about an issue in one of my classes and telling him that I didn't want to talk about school, he asked me how things are on the boy front.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He apologized; I could tell he didn't intend to upset me and felt bad about my stress level.

I rarely flat out say, "I don't want to talk about it," so saying so twice alerted me that, well, either I'm changing or I'm in a funk.

I've been extra annoyed with driving lately, too. Being in the car--it's like a cage, with squealing brakes and a gas tank that needs to be filled.

If I knew this staff better, I might ask them to turn off the A/C.

Grumble grumble. To the tests now.

Yours grumpily,

B

Sharing the media

In case any of you don't know this, several journalism students don't actually consume a lot of media.

We're a little busy. (I know, I know, I spent a large portion of yesterday hanging out with Kim and Kourtney. Hey, it's still media, if we want to get technical here.)

There are some students who are news junkies and go after information followed by more information, yes. But a lot of us like to joke about the irony of discussing the media all the time and not actually being up to great snuff on what's going on in the world. Or our backyard for that matter.

Here's an extra reason why I'm not consuming a ton of media today. Someone's chillin'

out on top of my newspaper:

Friend I'd like to have

Friends,

I am not kidding when I say that I am pretty sure I'd like to be friends with Rob Kardashian.

I watched--ahem--every episode of 'Keeping Up' surrounding the family's Bora Bora vacation today. And I decided that I think I'd like to get to know Rob. He seems like a nice guy. I think we'd get along.

ICYW (In case you're wondering),

Bailz

Too late

I am way too old for this (lack of) sleep schedule.

Graduation in less than eight months!

Good night, says the tired lady.

We should do this again sometime

Remember when two boys made me dinner and the three of us chatted for a long time afterward?

Good impromptu evening for this girl! Kurt and Dustin were very good hosts, with a very clean apartment to boot. Gold stars to you both. ;)

Typing paws

While I can't use the excuse, "the dog ate my homework" (as if anyone buys that, nay, uses that anymore), I may someday be able to declare to an instructor that, "the cat walked on my keyboard."

Will there be sympathies? Well, is the prof. a cat or dog person?

The things we do to get a diploma

Sometimes you have to stop watching the Kardashians' vacation in Bora Bora and do your philosophy homework instead.

Speaking of, can I go to Bora Bora? Anyone want to fund that?

Crave and you may receive

I got a craving for guacamole last night.

It was late, I didn't have an avocado, so I let it go for the evening.

I found an Alton Brown recipe that looks pretty delish, but by the time I went to sleep I think I had decided that due to time constraints I should just buy pre-made guac this time around. I got in bed and made a list for today. I wrote "guacamole," as in: eat guacamole. Initially it might have meant "make and eat guacamole," but nonetheless it made the list.

Today I went to the grocery store and was directed to the produce section for already made guac.

Upon arriving near the avocados, an employee nearby approached me--I believe--before I could approach him.

I told him I was looking for already-made guacamole.

The man was serving samples of guacamole.

Oh I sampled. And I purchased. I went for the spicier variety.

I am currently eating it with room temperature Coke, and "watching" the Chiefs get beat by the Lions. If I didn't have so much to do, I might be swigging Octoberfest beer with my lunch (yes, this is lunch) instead.

On that note, it's halftime. Gotta pack up my stuff and head to a place that offers caffeine. Philosophy paper about Belarus, here we come!...

A Saturday conversation

Bailey: "Where's Momma's notebook?"

Dibbs: "Meow!"

Ri. dic. u. lous.

I started making a list earlier today.

I made the list in a Word Document.

It's the type of list that falls into a category that I named during my senior year of college. And that would be a "panic list." Briefly, panic lists include several things that are making you panic.

With today's particular panic list, I:

1. Made the list according to five basic stress categories (3 courses I am enrolled in, 1 for which I am a teaching assistant, and 1 publication for which I am writing)
2. I also added something about a phone call I needed to make. Made the phone call. Off the list.
3. I also did some color coding: a)First, to highlight each category (class #1, class #2, etc.). b)Second, to highlight some of the more urgent, or, largely pressing things that I might forget about but can't exactly push to the last minute.
4. Then, I copied the entire list and pasted it directly underneath the original list.
5. Then, I put the items on the pasted list in date order, based on when each thing is due (by the way, this is for things that are due by or before Thursday--this is not, by any means, a list for the entire semester).
6. Then, I took both lists and put them in two columns, so I could look at them side by side, both color coded, one sorted by category, the other by date.

And I don't consider myself an organized person. This is not typical list making for me. This is just how busy I am, that I feel the need to color code and columnate a list because my brain doesn't want to work overtime.

Here's the kicker: I don't feel like I got that much done today.

Can you imagine if I had a spouse? Or a roommate? Or a dog, who would require walking and lots of attention, rather than a cat? Sure, he wakes me up in the middle of the night for food, but at least he doesn't complain that there is stuff all over the living room floor. And he likes to snuggle. BONUS.

Stellar parents

I just called my dad.

I told him about my paranoid worrying and that I'm being ridiculous with my worrying. He told me it's ridiculous any time that I spend worrying, but that he would talk to me about that when I was not worrying.

Then he asked for my bank account information so that he can wire me money to pay off my current bill for school and my student health insurance.

Then Mom had to tell me "three quick things" (have fun tailgating, she's visiting the KC Star and I can come, we should go shopping if/when I do come home).

Love them both so much.

xoxo, M&D

I'm sure you care.

September's budget is causing Bailey and Diblets to try some brands of certain items we wouldn't normally go for as our first choices*.

We'll see if Bailey likes AIM toothpaste and if Dibby likes HyVee brand cat food.

*Actually, I suppose I can't speak for Dibby here. I gave him Purina last year instead of Science Diet and he loved it. I'm sure you care.

And then there were three...four

I was walking by myself at first.

Then Erika called, and I told her where I was, so she met me there.

And then, as we were walking, we saw Kyle (and Rufus the dog) walking.

It occurred to me later that that was a little unusual, as far as walking situations go--accumulating fellow walkers along the way. No?

Kind of like a musical. Random crowds appearing. Although the four of us didn't break into song and dance. (This time, anyway. We'll see about future walks. Although I don't know if the accumulation walk will be repeated, seems kind of like a one-time thing. I'm analyzing this too much...)

Shared schedule

So there's that saying about how people who are married long enough start to look like each other.

Well what does it mean when you and your cat take a potty break at the same time?

Just happened.

The vote is in

If you want to enter the contest for best landlord-renter relationship,

don't.

My landlords and I have already won it.

Earlier I called to leave a message that I hadn't been able to get the water to turn on while trying to use the washer.

Got a call back explaining that it had been unplugged, and oh by the way have you eaten already?

Two hamburgers (with pickles, tyvm (thank you very much--I just made up that abbreviation, I like it)) and a glass of wine later...

Yeah. Don't enter the contest. Unless you've really got some competition to provide.

Time to do my homework.

Glitz

Miss Congeniality 2 and The Princess Diaries 2 are currently on TV on channels that, per my home's cable listing, are next to each other on the dial.

For just a little bit there if you switched back and forth between the two there were a lot of tiaras in the competing scenes.

"In LONDON!?"

Friends marathons on TV are hard to turn off.

Luckily tonight I don't have too much to prepare before tomorrow. Last night I had to relocate in my apartment away from the glowing box to get a move on my writing assignments.

Even when you've seen the episodes soooo many times...

Sleepykins

I'm having trouble sitting for long periods of time these days. Well, sitting and paying attention to something other than television or beer and pizza on a table in front of me.

During a lecture yesterday--which was engaging and interesting--I feel like I was tappin' my toes, and then today I had two meetings back to back and I had such a hard time there too.

I think during meetings especially there can be a lot of anxiety just building up as you sit there. People are tossing around ideas, then building on those ideas. You often gain a responsibility or two during the meeting. And if discussion goes down a tangent that either doesn't interest or directly concern you, you just have to sit there and listen.

My anxiety bubbles and I just want to excuse myself. "Can I go to the hall and eat my snack while you finish discussing this?"

We just have so. much. to do.

I was at dinner with my friend Chris tonight and he was trying to get a grasp on what it is that's on my plate (besides the artichoke pizza), between preparing to write a thesis (and no, I don't just mean sitting there thinking about it), writing for a publication, teaching assistant responsibilities...

So to add to that by merely listening to other's conversations can seriously stress me out--call me ridiculous, or nod your head in utter agreement. It kind of makes me feel selfish, thinking in a way that essentially says, "I don't want to listen to your issues*," but again--so. much. to do.

So often I have to just focus on the very next thing--what's due tomorrow, in the next hour. When was the last time I ate? Better grab a string cheese. Cat's meowing--feed him. I have to ignore the embarrassing clutter of dishes on the counter, in the sink, on the living room floor (because I eat there a lot, not because I store my kitchen supplies there), resist the urge to paint my nails (I want to paint them turquoise next), and just type out the 750- and 150-word assignments due tomorrow, reminding myself that the weekend is almost here and then I can wash dishes, paint my nails.

(And then realize that the weekend is over and I have to do homework and sit through lectures and meetings again.)

I suppose the good news is that as I get progressively more exhausted (ugh), sitting for an hour or so might become a welcome task.

*At least not at the time. I used to be a much better listener, sitting with people for hours to let them vent, be upset, be happy. I like to think I still do that with some...and that I'll get back to that (well, to some degree--I'll probably never have the same listening capacity as I did as a freshman in college again) eventually. :/

Rufus to the rescue!

When I got done with class today I was pretty cranky.

I called Kyle and left him a message inviting myself on a walk with him and Rufus (his dog).

I got home and took a breather--tried to nap for maybe...4 minutes, watched TV, sent several emails, some with sad faces--and then Kyle called back.

We did several laps on the trail with Rufus, during which Kyle informed me Dibbs is his favorite cat.

Yessssssss.

I felt much better after this walk.

Then later I got word that I was accepted for a writing position I applied for--yay!

This does mean lots of work for the semester (well, more than the lots of work that was already scheduled). Feeling like I've maybe bit off more than I can chew? You could say that.

Bedtime. Smooches.

La la la

Remember when I was awake at 2:38 a.m.? Yeah, me too.

I'm watching Friends, which is taking the edge off of the annoyance of not being asleep when I have stuff to do tomorrow.

I also have to pee, but don't really want to get up off the love seat.

I made some noodles in the microwave, Dibby did a little licking of said noodles.

Went to my friend Jessica's wedding last night, it was sooooo much fun.

I think I'm getting closer to sleepy time.

Rewind: back to the Friends discussion. It's strange to me that I am actually near the age range of the characters on this show. Monica made a mention of her age, 27, in an episode I watched tonight.

People, I'm 26.

Weird.

I see some similarities between me/my friends and them, and also some differences. (Wow, that was a sentence that makes me look like a really deep thinker, eh?)

Night, kids. Talk later.

When nothing satisfies

I had a good day.

Swimming with friends, dinner with friends. On the way home I got caught driving in the rain, so I hung out in the parking lot of the grocery store reading. Then bought some groceries, came home to my precious cat.

I'm pretty tired, so I should just go to bed.

But I am finding reason to complain.

There was nothing of particular interest to me on TV. I'm tired enough to sleep, which should just be what it is, but I want to still be up.

It's like I feel that I want time with people, even though I've been with people all day.

Maybe it's because I'm leaving town tomorrow, and the throwing off of my allotted time at home is bothering me.

I'm not sure.

Maybe it's because I saw a man gently grab his girl's chin today so he could give her a kiss, and I want someone to kiss me goodnight.

I should really just go to sleep. Read approximately 1.8 pages of a book until I get so sleepy I can't stand it anymore. And then turn off the lights and soon greet tomorrow.

Why I fight sleep when given the opportunity, while so often I'm more tired than I want to be, I may never fully understand.

Some things

I kind of love the bus. :)

I'm also pretty tired. (That's not to say that I'm just saying I kind of love the bus because I'm tired. That's just an additional thought. i.e., I enjoy the bus and I'm tired.)

I also want to see this movie:

Big day for a big girl

I remember what I felt like on the first day of my senior year of high school:

bad.

I wasn't ill. I just felt like a new kid, even though I had been in attendance at the school for a year already.

My family had moved the year before, and I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but your junior year of high school is not a great time to suddenly enter an academic institution.

By junior year, people are in clubs, AP classes, cliques. They're settled. They've got tough academic years ahead of them, and--from my perspective anyway--they want to spend their free time with the people they know, and don't exactly want to take the extra time to meet newbies.

I was lucky enough to meet Corie on the first day of our junior year, and I certainly understand the value she brings to my life still today, but in a school of 2,000 students, even with a great friend who takes you under her wing, one can only meet so many additional people in a year's time.

So basically by my senior year, with Corie and I not assigned to the same lunch period, and only a small selection of acquaintances, I felt nervous the way a new kid does. And it sucked.

Well I'm finding myself in a similar situation now, here in my second (and last) year of graduate school.

Not only did I feel super self-conscious and anxious for part of last week (this has receded a bit, although anxiety loves to drop in for visits), but right now I am nervous about tomorrow.

Why?

Because I'm taking the bus, people.

I was so excited about taking the bus. Saving money by buying a semester pass, giving the Earth a little break, avoiding so many encounters with those yellow envelopes that the city likes to place on my windshield.

I've even taken the bus before. In general, and in this city before. But I haven't gone to this particular stop that I'll be going to tomorrow.

I realize this sounds ridiculous, guys. I really do.

But as I was telling Nick tonight, the bus is on a schedule. And I don't want to throw it off. You know, by asking questions about how things work.

I know what time the bus is supposed to come to the stop tomorrow, but will it be early? Late? If so, how late? Will I be sitting there for 20 extra minutes waiting, with the bus eventually coming after all, so that everything works out but not without wondering, "Where's the bus where's the bus where's the bus?" until it shows up?

And here's the other thing. Since taking the bus will not allow me to leave for home until all my duties on campus are over (not that that's different from what I would do even if I drove myself to school tomorrow), I'm packing a lunch.

I haaaate packing a lunch.

Let me repeat that:

Haaaate it.

People, I grew up on cafeteria food. I like hot food.

Plastic trays, those cards we had in middle school--that had 10 or 20 paper appendages on them that would be sliced off in a machine each day--, people behind glass shields who fill my paper boat with peas and say they're "doin' fine" when I ask them how their days are going.

I have always been more at ease with these things than with paper bags of chilled or room temperature items in Ziploc bags. On the occasions that I didn't pack my own lunch as an adolescent (if I packed one in the first place) but brought one--usually to a field trip--Mom would often leave an "XO" written in marker on the napkin, and that gave me a sense of peace in the midst of my day. But, messaged napkins aside, I still preferred and continue to prefer hot food.

If I could have lunch on a tray with an XO napkin, or just share a tray lunch with Mom (who also prefers hot food): these would obviously be options I would choose above eating a sack lunch alone. Duh. Point being--the XO napkin certainly livened up the sack lunch and brought Mom to lunch with me, it still meant I was eating something cold.

I'm trying to say that I love my mom more than I love hot food. I'm not sure I'm articulating it very well. You'll have to forgive me--I'm a little preoccupied with tomorrow's bus trip.

Moving on.

The problem when you get to this stage in life (i.e. grad school, working adult) is that hot food is so much more expensive than just packing a lunch. Unless you're at home during the day, but oftentimes that doesn't jive well with a campus schedule.

So to explain to you why I'm nervous about my day tomorrow is that I have to take the bus, and bring a lunch.

And I guess I feel a little bit like I'm back in my grade school days--and not in the good way (because I have several good memories of those days).

When I'm liberal with the wallet, and pay for downtown parking (or for tickets when I don't have enough, or any, cash for the meter), and expensive lunches prepared by others, and vending machine snacks, and Starbucks, then I can go to bed the night before without packing a lunch. I can leave home closer to the last minute so that I can park close to school and walk to class with just enough time to get there with a few minutes to spare, maybe with enough time to grab an americano first.

But then I look at my bank account and feel bad about myself and my decisions (I do that anyway, but...).

So I'm nervous. This is getting long so I won't go much beyond this. But I guess there is something to be said for changing up your routine and the toll it can have on your stress level. For sacrificing some independence in the name of a budget.

And for feeling homesick at age 26. Homesick for sharing meals with your family in the evenings. For that emotional safety of wearing sweats in a college cafeteria, giggling with your fellow sleep deprived friends in the middle of a Tuesday, with homework waiting until later--much later--that night, or the next.

Maybe I'll have someone to chat with while I eat my dried cranberries and Wheat Thins tomorrow. Maybe the bus driver will smile at me. Maybe I'll splurge and buy an americano.

Pretend endless summer

Last week I was sort of in denial that school was starting.

This week I've done some homework, but I still chose to stay up and watch Will & Grace tonight while eating a cupcake and drinking beer, rather than quietly read in bed until I was sleepy.

I'm transitioning. You'll know soon enough when I'm in "I'm so stressed out!" mode.

Love my baby

Have I ever told you guys that I love my cat?

Hahaha, I crack myself up.

Currently he is lying on the floor like a little angel puppy.

He also has this new thing where he doesn't always like it when I'm in the shower. He meows, sometimes he gets on his hind legs and puts his front paws on the door. (And while we're on the subject I'll tell you that he often follows me into the bathroom when I go in there anyway.)

Last night when I got out of the shower he was lying on the edge of the rug that's at the foot of it.

Um, pretty great ego boost when your animal loves you so much he doesn't want to be away from you for 20 minutes.

Or, he's hungry during those 20 minutes.

Misbehaving garment

The shirt I'm wearing today is not bra friendly.

We will probably part ways soon.

Sorry, bud. Maybe if you were a little more cooperative...

Aren't there supposed to be cookies and milk waiting for you at the end of day 1?

Ugh.

Well I am not the poster child for Back to School 2011.

What a ball of nerves I am! I felt so strangely self conscious yesterday, and then spent my afternoon class trying to tune out the list of assignments discussion to try and curb my anxiety.

Then today I sat through my communications law class hoping that the lectures from here on out won't contain so much discussion of violent cases.

Even though I have a lighter load this semester than I had last fall and spring, I am still so nervous I feel paralyzed at the thought of what I have to do this year--prepare a thesis (oh yeah, and pick a topic), conduct research and write a thesis, find a job.

My brother Kelly asked me on the phone yesterday, "How do you eat an elephant?"

One bite at a time.

I knew the answer. Now let's put it into practice. What?! That's not my M.O.! Freak out! Anxiety! That's what I know (and hate)!

I've been told that I've survived one year and that's the hardest part, but I am--I believe, if memory serves--so much more freaked out about Year 2 than I was Year 1.

I was nervous starting last year, yes, but I was naive concerning the amount of work that was in fact coming my way. And then I was in it, and cried a lot, yes, but just did it.

Now I have an idea of what's coming. And last year we had a lot more distance from our theses. Now I'm afraid I'm going to be pressed for a topic any week now. And then I've gotta convince three faculty members to stand behind me while I eek this thing out.

Sigh...

I need to focus on those basic physical needs--making out, ope, I mean food, exercise, sleep--and get tomorrow's homework done. Trustin' the Man along the way.

I love...

when I'm close enough to my cat to hear his tongue squishing across the fur on his paws.

Dear C&C,

In the past few days I got to share water, beer, and coffee with Corie. (I was gonna say that we "clinked" all of those beverages, because we actually did with the water and the beer, but I'm not sure we clinked our coffee mugs).

Blessed, am I.

Love you, lady.

It can be a pretty terrifying thing when your best friend falls in love and gets married, because you fear that you might not see her very much anymore and that all kinds of things will change and it will be a constant emotional ride.

I am seeing now that not only is my friendship with Cor still growing (after 10 years of friendship as of last week, holla!) but I am also developing a friendship with her man, Cyle. And I can look to both of them as marriage mentors for my "someday."

Love you guys. Thanks for taking Ms. Singleton on the journey with you. <3

Prayer request

Hey friends,

Please pray for my g'ma. She's in the hospital with some health problems.

Thanks,

B

Labels

So I spent most of my day today with Corie and Cyle and it was fantastic.

To start the day we participated in a crowded--not--5K downtown and joked around a bunch while doing so.

Later we met up for drinks and tacos, and then went back to their place and watched episodes of Friends while sippin' some java.

Yeah. Delightful.

Anyway, at lunch, another couple and a half couple (i.e., man, sans wife; he has a wife, she's just out of town) joined us. When we got our bills we noticed that we had been labeled with descriptive terms so our server could identify us and keep track of our orders.

Corie and Cyle were dubbed "blue couple" (Cyle, but not Corie, was wearing a blue shirt), and couple No. 2 were named "red shirts."

My name for the afternoon?:

"girl"

Awesome. Granted I think Matt was called "guy," but still. Pretty funny.

Boodles

My parents' cat BooBoo brings you her toys in her mouth when she wants to play.

And she's soft and loves to be loved.

I yuvs her.

Analysis

Okay, some 70s clothing is pretty cute.

But some of it is just...not so good.

(I'm watching Three's Company.)

Janet's outfit--pretty great.

Chrissy's--looks like pajamas. And she has a ribbon tied around a high half ponytail.

Smooches, friends

Okay, well I did clean today.

But other than that, wow. I went grocery shopping (okay that was another good thing) and the rest of the day/night, aside from the cleaning, I've been sitting here watching TV/hanging out on the Internet.

It's a good thing classes are starting next week to get this butt back in gear. Until then I think we can expect some ridiculous laziness on my part.

Oh I did send an important email.

Blahhhhhh.

One more week, then pretty soon I'm gonna be saying, "I'm so tired! I have no time! Waaaaah"

Temperamental energy levels

How is it that I go back and forth between being up until 4 a.m., wide awake, and then feeling soooo tired at 1:53 a.m.?

I imagine this fall semester will kick my boo-tay in gear.

Sigh.

Stump the cashier

"Parsnip?"

This is what the cashier asked me when I purchased a parsnip. It's okay, I had to do a google image search before I headed to the store to figure out what I would be looking for.

Well I cooked it today and...success.

Tonight I stopped by the store to pick up Adventure Produce Item #2.

"Okra?" the cashier asked.

Branching out...to root veggies (get it? See what I did there?)

I ate some parsnip tonight.

Just one bite. Raw.

My first reaction was: ehhhh. You know, with a whiny-type childish face that says, "I don't like this." But a little less exaggerated.

Then about 30 seconds later it grew on me. And then about a minute or two after I swallowed it I really appreciated the flavor.

But I still didn't like the idea of eating it raw again just yet. I'm gonna cook it and see how that works out for me. Maybe if I eat it enough I can get to the point where I'll crave/want to eat it raw.

I don't know if any of this is making any sense.

Guess it's a movie night

Will I never learn?!

This is the third Thursday in a row where I've been excited to watch Will & Grace at midnight--

because it's on at midnight every other weeknight!--

and then I discover that Project Runway's on--

no thank you--

instead! Now the first week was an innocent mistake, last week was worthy of a forehead slap, but tonight I should have known.

Meanwhile, I miss Jackie and the gang. :(

Nick's subconscious provides Bailey with entertainment

I received an email that excited me greatly today. From Nick:

"last night i dreamed about your wedding. it was kind of chaotic. riley was there. and i don't think you liked who you were marrying.* also, we were in nyc... i forgot my hair gel. i got a parking ticket. and you were shopping at a thrift store.

but don't worry, the actual wedding didn't happen.**"

Now. There are several things I need clarification on, and I told him I need to hear the whole version of the dream. But it cracked me up.

*This part of the dream I do not like.

**I also don't like the idea of my wedding never happening, but if it's to someone I don't like, then I'm okay with such a turnout for this particular dream scenario.

And the point of this method is...?

What is with the Power Point-esque subtitles in Sensodyne commercials?

Seriously.

What a WINNER

I visited my "Uncle" Dan and his wife, Pam, this weekend.

Dan washed my car,

waxed it,

polished the headlights,

vacuumed the inside,

detailed the inside,

and filled it up with gas!

Do you believe the nerve of that guy?

<3 Thanks, Uncle Dan.

No thank you

If I have any desire to go to Vegas, I'm not aware of it.

If I could bypass the Strip, see some nature, hang out in a pool--then mayyybe.

Maybe the nerdy historical version of Vegas. Except if all the history is about gambling--eh, never mind.

FYI.

Radar shift

It's raininggggggg.

About time.

So wonderful. It rained Friday morning, before I left town, and it's dumping again now. Time to crawl into bed and listen to the drops, I think.

Night night, pals.

Remember when I almost didn't apply to school here?

So, what does one do when it's 3:20 a.m. and she's still awake?

Well, one option is to catch up on some blog posts.

What shall we write about at this fine hour, eh?

Ah. I could tell you about my Tour of Missouri.

It had been my plan to travel to LA around this time, to get a sufficient break between my summer class and--

deep breath oh my goodness it's about to start all over again--

the fall semester.

I needed not only a break in mere days off, but also a mental break. And not just a sorta break. A real break.

And the beach--with its monotonous waves that curl and slosh, then kind of sizzle after they finish their crest and turn into foamy crawlers that halfheartedly race up the shore,

and its sand, that sticks to your wet skin (and yes, I love that, and no it does not annoy or make me frustrated that things are not perfectly clean and granule-free),

and its sun, that slowly warms you after you've been in the surf, then gradually returns you back to a temperature that eventually requires another dip in the tide

--that beach has been known to give me quite the mental break.

But I decided at some point along the way that such a trip would require dollars that perhaps I should not--or don't even necessarily have, to--spend.

So I'm hanging out in MO. The affordable, quite toasty alternative.

Last week I drove to Branson, and enjoyed the lush trees covering huge hills, as I patted my dashboard and encouraged my little car to make it to the top of each climb. I spent about 72 hours with three people who I've known a very long time, and one who is newer to my life, makes my girl Corie quite happy, and does a hilarious Forrest Gump impression to boot.

For two days we took the boat out on the lake, anchored, jumped in with life jackets (worn stylishly as "diapers"), and enjoyed Bud Light and Amber Bock in the water. We held onto a rope that was attached to the boat so we wouldn't drift. Positioned in our infantile outfits, with our juvenile tethering devices, our conversations drifted between adult ones and "Beer me!" whenever someone ventured briefly back onto the boat.

Then a fresh Bud would sail out, plop in the water, and one would refresh his or her coozie.

Pretty fantastic alternative to the beach if you gotta skip the beach.

Tomorrow I'm leaving for "the cape," Cape Girardeau, to see some other peeps I love. I plan to be spoiled, take it easy, and uh...yep that covers it.

The last time I was there was for the wedding of the couple who I'll be visiting, and while I was there for only a short time I recall the Mississippi looked lovely right before their ceremony, so I'm planning on enjoying some more natural

Missouri

beauty this weekend. And also looking forward to the drive.

In the meantime I need to get some rest. But my bod's not having that yet. I really was sleeping at a closer-to-normal hour as of late, but a late morning, no workout and a fair amount of caffeine today--plus excitement for my vacay, duh!--is probably not a great recipe for zzzz's.

All righty, holla at y'all lata.

(Missouri) Smooches!

Things I have more than one of

I have a lot of stationery.

Perhaps I should send some notes once in a while.

Send me an email (thedaileebailey@yahoo.com) with your address and you might receive a little some-in' some-in'. ;)

In other news I'm accumulating a nice collection of Happy Meal toys. 2 Smurfs, 2 Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I got a light saber too, but gave it to a newsroom pal.

Hangin' out with Will and Grace

So...

I'm back to a place where I'm sleepy at midnight (and not waiting until 4 a.m. to feel sufficiently wound down), yet I'm watching a sitcom...

...and fighting sleep to do so.

Times be a changin'.

Nutrition

I'm wearing a T-shirt with a cat on it. Pants with fish on them.

Add some worm socks and I'd have a little food chain going on. Oh wait. Not quite a chain...nor the circle of life.

Drat.

Organization...I'm sorry, you're going to have to be a little more clear on what you're referring to...

I have a folder (amongst many) in my email entitled "CLUTTER."

There is one item in it.

There are--

take a deep breath here, Deanna, and only proceed if you care to--

1,724 items in my inbox.

Figures.

Book can potentially change outlook on germs

Generally speaking, I'm not much of a germophobe.

But the book I'm reading could make me one, at least temporarily. Never mind that it's about the early 1900s, when typhoid was more or less rampant, depending, and still a mystery to health professionals even.

'Typhoid Mary: An Urban Historical' by Anthony Bourdain (shout out to Erica for introducing me) shows off the great writing skills of an also talented and accomplished chef. I'm impressed with and amused by his writing, and the story's interesting to boot. Holler.

And Cylas, I believe this post will be dedicated to you--the man who doesn't like to eat using another's fork.

I'm not sure how I'd fare on this show...

I was at the gym tonight, and the show "Wipeout" was on the TV in front of the bike I was on.

Riley quite enjoys this show, and we have sat together in front of it, while I would grimace and wonder why I was watching it (and let's be honest, probably laughing from time to time) and Riley would crack up through the whole thing, sometimes hanging around for a second episode.

Well as I watched tonight I saw that there are some new courses (a daytime preliminary course and a nighttime one for the finalists).

And I must admit they looked pretty cool. There were slides (water and regular) involved, swings, and this tipped-on-its-side revolving maze thing.

Um, awesome.

I also spent some time wondering about the two guys hosting the thing, in suits, behind glass--away from the wet madness. Each with wedding bands on their fingers. I just wonder how they landed in this place in their lives...wonder about the journey...

Proustian agua

I bought an iced Americano earlier, then eventually dumped what I didn't finish of it and refilled the cup with water.

Now whenever I take a sip of it I get a whiff of what smells like Honey Smacks cereal.

Interesting scientific finding, if I care to present it, which I do.

Doesn't make me want to finish drinking the water, however. Kind of gross when you want a sip of something "tasteless."

Although I have fond memories of pouring myself bowls of Malt-O-Meal Golden Puffs on summer mornings in Colorado as a child, taking the green (or white or yellow or pink*) plastic serving receptacle to the living room to eat the puffs dry** while watching Seal and Blues Traveler on Vh1 with the bros.

*Sibs? Were those the colors? Was there a blue one? Am I getting these colors mixed up with our childhood blankets?

**Often with a glass of milk, but never poured atop the cereal in the bowl, no no. Why would you dilute your day's sugary start?

Funny lady

So my friend Erika's hilarious.

She started to tell me something tonight, and I kid you not, I believe she got about as far as,

"Sometimes I think..."*

and then she said,

"Wait. I need to start over."

__________________

*I believe she repeated this a few times, probably distracted because she was driving,** but still -- she didn't advance much further in what she was trying to say before deciding she needed to wipe the slate clean and begin afresh in her verbal thought process.

**She usually drives, since the car belonging to yours truly is often disgusting.

Giggle hour

Last night at dinner I started laughing at something. I think. Or else I was excitedly telling a story.

Probably a combo. The former a result of the latter.

In fact, I had a giggle fit prior to dinner while trying to tell an embarrassing story in the pool, and then had at least one more g-fit after dinner.

Anyway, while at dinner Nate said, "You've had too much sugar, Young Lady."

Cracks me up.

Kansas, I hope to see you again soon, longtime friend

Back to school, back to school...

:(

Didn't get enough time with the 'rents or the g'ma, or the cats--one who sleeps in the sink and catches cicadas, and the other one who's, well, hyper, and a lovey dovey.

See ya, length!

Thanks for the new 'do, Sar Bear!!

Idea

So I've thought about challenging myself to eat, well, more or less each item offered in the produce department at my local grocery.

As in, buy mushrooms, prepare them in some way--either by themselves or with something else, then buy turnips, and figure out some way to eat them. Then radishes, rutabaga, rhubarb, carrots, nectarine...

What do we think about this? Good challenge? Suggestions to spice up the deal?

Webalicious

Do you, too, visit imdb.com at least once a week, generally speaking?

Most recent person I looked up: Scott Bakula.

And you?

Warm fuzzies

So I was just in the bathroom, and something on the bag of cotton balls caught my eye.

I have the Target brand, and apparently they are called:

wait for it...

...are you really ready for this?? You're life's gonna change once you see it.

Puffy fluffs.

That's amazing.

I'd like you to meet...

Are you peeps familiar with Sade (pronounced Sha-day)? She sang Smooth Operator, which I was not aware of until just now. Anyway, allow me to introduce you to some of her other hits. You're welcome ;)

This one'll get you pumped:

And a classic. So pretty:

Saturday night education

So, hangin' out with the AP Stylebook tonight--

ya know, whatevs--

I discovered that a female peacock is called a

peahen!

DID YOU KNOW THAT???!!

...And. Really? How often is it going to come up in a news story that we are going to need to differentiate between a peacock and a peahen? I mean, obvi, I found this in passing. I was not looking up 'peacock.' And if I was, I certainly would not have been looking for the correct gender terminology for one of the female variety.

I mean, if I did in fact stop to look that up, prior to tonight's discovery, I'd be surprised at myself. Which doesn't really make sense, because that was a hypothetical situation I just set up there.

It's late. I'm gonna stop confusing myself/you guys now.

Smooches!

Feeling a little less like a teenager

Me sleepy.

And it's before 4 a.m.

Ta dah!

Change it up, Swiffer! New disc!

I have taken to muting these commercials when they come on. That song annoys me so much now, having heard it so many times. What about you? Any commercials you can hardly stand to watch/listen to?

Your blunder began somewhere near the closet

I was in the newsroom yesterday and my friend Emily said, "You know who you remind me of right now?"

I struck a little pose, I believe, and waited for her to compare me to some Hollywood cutie.

"You know 'The Cat in the Hat?'" she asked.

Okay...this is not going the way I expected but let's see where it goes...

"Oh. The girl?" I asked, thinking this might be a cute little compliment, comparing me to the little cartoon blondie.

"No. You know Thing 1 and Thing 2?"

"Yeah..."

"You look like a 'Thing.'"

Nicholas, before you jump in here, let me tell you that I was wearing a navy, cotton skirt (oh wait, you've seen it; the one with the nautical belt you made fun of) and a red T-shirt. And I had already taken my hair out of braided pigtails by this point in the day and had removed my heart-shaped sunglasses.

And let me just inform the rest of you that Nick and I have a best-friend pastime of Nick mocking my fashion choices. It's fun for both of us; it's not like he sends me away in tears (although sometimes he does veto my choices, such as the dress I had planned on wearing to my brother's wedding). And, in his defense, here's just a sampling of some of my outfits he's captured on film:

From 2011, we have polka dots and stripes:

And from 2008, we have what I believe is our personal favorite

(this one comes up quite often in conversations as the yardstick for other outfit choices;

kind of a "just how bad is it" meter):

Well Emily did tell me she wasn't dissing me with her "Thing" comparison (and Em, I didn't think you were). I didn't feel particularly insulted, in fact I found it to be funny. Just wasn't, uh, what I was expecting her to say. I was hoping for her to say Drew Barrymore, Renee Zellweger. Even little Sally from the Seuss classic.

You know, someone who's at least blonde. Not so...blue-haired.

Elliot Sherman

I watched a movie last night (The Baxter) that I found to be very entertaining and very funny. It's hard to describe just exactly why.

I guess because it was a touch campy, but not so much that I was purely watching it to poke fun at it. And while it could have annoyed me by being a little bit too indie (and I will admit, at times it was difficult to watch the main character; but then again, the actor was doing a pretty great job of playing who that character was supposed to be), it didn't quite get there. Here's why, in my opinion:

It didn't overdo the awkward moments--but rather, presented them in a manner that was just right--and it also had that anachronistic feeling of Napoleon Dynamite. There was a reference to and use of Palm Pilots, and the year 2002 was dropped in some conversations, but otherwise for the most part it could have been in the '50s, '90s; all of the above, really. In that sense, you could say, a little something for all (okay, most: rated PG-13) ages.

And there were several moments where I just thought it was very humorous. Again, hard to describe. You might just have to experience it for yourself and then report back here at the DB.

Give it a watch if you care to:

Luckily Diblets likes to sync his bedtime with mine

I asked some of my colleagues tonight if they're up for hours after they get home after their shifts at the paper.

I basically got a resounding "Yes" in response.

Me too, kids. I'm so wired after staring at a screen, reading reading reading the news, looking closely at details, then stepping back and looking at the big picture to create a headline. Then back to the details, with a brand new story, new topic.

Your mind is full of information by the time you're done, so you're well informed, but how one could get into bed right as they get home (if there's even one out there who can) is beyond me. I mean, I require time to wind down in general, but add in a brain full of thoughts about flood levees, Murdoch's issues, Dear Abby, and you can bet this girl's gonna be tapping her fingers until (ahem) sometimes the crack of dawn.

I'm considering looking at copy editing jobs for post-graduation (but keeping my dream of being a writer! I'm just thinking copy editing work might be more consistent than freelance work, at least while one is trying to carve herself a respectable place in the freelance world), but if I get offered a schedule heavy with night shifts, let's just say I might grimace.*

Inwardly, probably, if in a face-to-face interview.

*This is not to say I wouldn't take the job nor enjoy it, I just wouldn't jump for joy at the idea of 4 a.m. as a bedtime.

This is (one reason) why I really need a helper (read: spouse) eventually

I'm moody.

If you haven't noticed.

Today I have enjoyed the company of some great women in my life. I have also been down on myself for spending money, (currently) for not having my laundry done so that I could already be in bed, for having minimal, minimal structure in my life minus that which is already carved out by some other entity--a university class schedule, a newsroom.

Ugh.

At this point I realize I should just go to bed, but, like I said, the laundry isn't done so...

Whadda ya think, kids? Should I get in bed with my book? Or watch some TV? Brush teeth first? Oh wait, I'm kind of hungry. Tooth brushing wouldn't be smart to do right away, then...

I was saying, about minimal structure...?

Reminder on a car radio

I worry so @&#%ING much.

I was just in my car and heard the lyric from a great song, My Savior, My God:

"I take Him at His word and deed."

EASIER SUNG THAN DONE, MY FRIENDS.

Bailey Kathleen needs a lesson in trusting her heavenly Father.

Sigh. Followed by a few thousand more.

All the single ladies (and gents)

Some thoughts on living alone/filling the time in your twenties:

It really is an effort, and an ongoing strengthening exercise to fill your time. I know that I over think a lot of things, so when I spend too much time refreshing my email page and feel badly for not doing something else with my time, I assume that it is in part just me; as in, others either fill their time with more unique, productive things, or they just enjoy the excess free time and don't worry about it.

But I don't always think that it's just me. I mean, what exactly are other single people in my cohort doing with their time that doesn't involve too much time on the Internet or in front of the TV?

I mean, I know that I am not a workaholic, I don't need to fill my extra time with extra meetings, or group involvements, or team sports in order to feel satisfyingly busy all the time. In fact if I go more than two nights in a row with a social gathering I start to think more and more about when I'll have time to read and pet the cat.

But the flipside is having way too much time to just sit and think. Or, click around on YouTube or go on a lengthy walk while thinking.

I've been watching things on Netflix to fill some of my time, some films providing more viewing success than others; one that had me crying for the majority of the last 30 minutes of it. WARNING: If you're going to watch "Listen to your heart," have tissues on hand. I was just telling Deniz that I saw a review of the film that said it would be a good date movie.

Yeah, if you want to sob on your first date.

It wasn't a horrible movie, in fact it was reminiscent of "Once," with music tied in throughout (although I have my own beef with how "Once" ended, too...Riley: "You didn't expect it to be a love story, did you?" Me: "Yeah!").

Anyway.

So let's review my day: A late sleep, some scones on the love seat while watchin' the tube, a run/walk, a shower, some time in TV/Internet oblivion. Then I ordered Chinese food, went to pick it up, then watched...the film...made some iced tea to fight this headache that is still with me. Watched some TV. Then I was on round number...? of checking the email/Facebook when my phone rang.

Thankfully.

I truly believe that God puts people in my life, period, but I also believe that He times when he puts them there. I believe He's in charge of the timing of everything, and I really believe it's Him who puts a familiar face at the grocery store or the name of someone I love in my email inbox when I'm having a sloggish (yes, I just made that a word) moment of what-to-do-with-myself-for-the-next-3-hours-because-I-don't-have-a-roommate-or-a-spouse.

Oh and by the way it was Deniz on the phone, my pal from school who makes me smile over and over again who is in Cali this summer.

He asked, as always, to speak to Dibbs.

But, as always, he settled for speaking to me instead. 55 (Dibby just typed those two 5's)

So there ya have it. This evening in my life the time was filled with an unexpected phone call (oh, and Mom called earlier when I was still in my that-movie-was-so-sad haze; I appreciated that phone call too, of course, and was actually planning on calling her to debrief about the movie anyway), a sad movie, a monstrous headache to negatively distract, and lots of the usual puttering to fill in the gaps. Currently I watch "Will & Grace" at midnight on weeknights--it's part of the puttering.

Last night I had a girls' night over here at my place. We painted nails, drank wine, laughed. God provides. Days are just different from one another, when one doesn't have a family of her own to build a schedule around. Sometimes this is aggravating, exhausting, depressing. Other times the spontaneity is something that I occasionally realize I might miss when, God willing, that family does come along and my days are more routine-filled.

G

Got the design project done. Watched

Gilmore Girls while snacking on

Goat cheese. Then a friend brought over a baked

Good for

Girls night.

Good day.

Wardrobe

Sometimes I hang around my apartment for long periods of time without any pants on--what? It's my own private living space--and then decide that I'd rather be wearing pants.

I believe yesterday I said something along the lines of, "I'd like to put on pants."

Mes cheveux

My mom gave me these soft roll curlers a while ago, and I just put them in my hair:

I look like Amy in Little Women. Ah, Little Women. <3

Another point for breakfast

Well I've had some water issues at my place, so I asked Courtney if I could use her shower today.

Being awesome (per her usual), she offered me not only her shower but also offered to make pancakes.

Duh, of course I accepted, and enjoyed the cakes along with bacon and farm fresh eggs.

And, per our usual, we chatted for hours. Yeah, we're adorable.

I'm gonna miss that cat after she moves. :(

Point for breakfast

I had brunch with my brother Kelly and his wife, Jenny, today.

We were able to pick our own mugs from a hutch. I of course chose one with a purple cat on it.

At one point our waiter walked away from the table and Kelly said that he thought the waiter was flirting with me.

He said this before I had a chance to tell them that I thought the waiter was cute.

I razzed the waiter a little bit, asking him if he liked my choice of mug.

I enjoyed this. I generally enjoy encountering cute waiters. Particularly playful ones.

I quite enjoy the job anyway, but this really makes it worth it

I proofed a life story (a more in-depth obituary) tonight while working at the paper, and I came across the following:

"[He] is also remembered as a loving grandfather, who frequently attended his grandchildren's show-and-tell days. He was known as 'Grandpa Buzz' because of the sound his wheelchair made."

Gets me every time.

So sweet. I love it.

I'll probably tell people about this for years to come.

Rolla Coasta

My emotions are

UP

and

DOWN.

Ugh. I wear myself out.

Earlier today I went from "I'm otherwise happy, but really don't want to go to campus to work on this project" to really excited about some stuff to

CRASH--frustrated/overwhelmed/freaked out/annoyed with this project and my inadequate understanding of the system I'm supposed to use for it, to

crying

to feeling a little better, to watching a film that put a huge smile on my face--literally--to chatting so long on the phone that now I realize how late it is but I'm figuring, "Well what else is new this summer, I'm up late all the time anymore,"

and now I'm just sitting here typing. Not super excited about working tomorrow, but not freaking out or crying either.

I'll say it again: Ugh.

Whoever ends up with me is gonna have to be able to deal. Because this is not a rare occurrence, this "I'm happy! I'm sad. I'm in the middle" girl. And I'm not sure who it's rougher on: me or the people who support me. Yeah, it's probably rougher on me. But I can't imagine it's too easy to be on the receiving end of my moods.

Anyway.

Once I post this I can get closer to turning off the compy, which will get me closer to going to sleep. Smooches.

Not too old (or young) to BBQ

Last-minute Thursday night BBQ?

Success.

Good work, team.

This experience has made me feel older. I mean, one's parents host barbecues, so when one hosts one herself, doesn't that make her a little more on par with the older crowd?

I mean, you know I aspire to be part of the older crowd. Oftentimes I consider myself to already be a member, and for some of you I don't have to do any convincing of this being a fact.

Holler, talk at y'all lata.

--Gramma B

Make-up post #4 (this one's for you, Diblets)

Umm...

I don't generally post so many times in such a short period of time like this.

This is kind of a lot of pressure.

I could let Dibby type:

I just offered him the keyboard and he exhaled a deep breath. I'm gonna take that as a "You just don't get it, Woman. Feed me."

Guess I know what I need to be doing now. If you'll excuse us...

Make-up post #3 (this one's for you, Kristen)

I kind of liked that video compilation. Let's do my fave Celine songs, shall we?

I'm putting my all time fave/my anthem at the top for those of you who aren't going to make it all the way to the bottom. Yeah, you know who you are...Your loss, though. Just sayin'. This woman's got some pipes!!

And...

Make-up post #2 (this one's for you, Ri)

The following are my favorite scenes from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Do enjoy. Pop some popcorn first, if you have some.

Mmm, I wish I had some popcorn...

That clip reminds me that I still want to see DreamGirls:

What I'd like to do this summer

Well, per my wedding travels this month, I have some make-up posts to write. We'll count this as one of them.

The term "make-up" is similar to that of "make-out."

I've been thinking lately I could go for some making out.

:)

I was watching The Last Song the other day--and couldn't bring myself to finish it; sorry, Miles--and watched the part where Miley Cyrus' character and her boy toy are making out in the ocean surf.

Yeah, I could handle some of that right now, I think.

Am I freaking you guys out??

Okay, end of make-out, oops, I mean make-up post #1. On to the next (do you dare to read it?).

Turning the "Grr" into an "I'm going!"

I made a list of places I want to go.

Some are in Missouri, some the nation, some the world.

Well, I guess they're all in the world. Outer space isn't on the list at this time.

Making this list was kind of cliche, and also frightening for me. Yes, frightening.

Because you guys need to understand--and if you've known me for a particularly long time you might already know this--that I say "no" a lot. To myself, that is.

I talk myself out of things before I even let myself make an opening argument for considering going somewhere or doing something cool, fun, risky, expensive, something that might be beautiful or new, might make me feel for once that I did something big I wanted to do instead of just continually thinking about the fact that I haven't done it, as I flip through channels for the millionth bajillionth time.

Seriously. No, no, no. That is my automatic refrain. I hardly ever tell myself I can do something.

"Of course you'll go to Italy someday, Bailey." "You wanna visit a winery in Missouri? Absolutely, we can make that happen!"

No, the above thoughts are--no pun intended; well, maybe--foreign to me. Instead I hang out on Facebook and think:

"Ugh. Look at so-and-so hanging out in Germany. Mom and Dad must have paid for that..." "Oh sure, if you grew up with missionary parents, then it must be easy to have the easygoing world travel mentality." "Jealous, jealous, jealous." Or, simply, and probably most often:

"Grrrrrr."

Well I made a list. It's a step. I need to kick my little ass into positive-thinking gear (is there a store where I can get some positive-thinking gear? On a budget?) and tell myself that, one at a time, I can at least visit some of these places. And I will perhaps have the chance to visit all of them, eventually, if it's in God's will.

Well, if you could assist in kicking my ass with emails, phone calls, in-person encouragements, as well as pray for my attitude,* that would be awesome.

And if you're curious, here's the list (it's not complete):

1. Carlsbad Caverns, N.M.
2. Overlook Mountain House, Woodstock, N.Y.
3. Hermann Wine Trail, Hermann, Mo.
4. Italy
5. Greece
6. England
7. Australia/New Zealand
8. Memphis, Tenn. (been there twice, actually, but would like to make a longer visit; I have been to the Civil Rights Museum, which is amazing, you should really try and go (look at me, preaching at you**))
9. New England
10. Philadelphia, Pa.
11. Birmingham, Ala.
12. Big Sur, Calif.
13. Lake Tahoe
14. Hawaii
15. Alaska (I'm not sure if this is very high on my list, but I'm gonna put it in here)
16. Savannah, Ga.
17. Cape Girardeau, Mo. (been here, too, but only briefly)
18. Rockford, Ill. (I have a friend who lived there, not sure if she still does; if she's moved, this locale might get the boot from the list)

*(attitude, meaning: not in the sense that this is about me just pleasing Bailey, but that it's kind of about a bigger issue that I am legitimately, seriously pretty negative pretty often, and being jealous is no way to live fruitfully. Me being selfish and just wanting to travel rather than having a willing servant heart is a whole other issue that we will continually return to, I'm sure, here at the Daily Bailey)

**Also, the Apartheid Museum in South Africa is incredible, and ironically considering the content of this post I have been there. If you can go to the Apartheid Museum, I strongly urge you to. You will be in there for hours, and you will be changed. And while you're in the country, you might as well visit Robben Island.

Cammy...

New show I'm watching (Sundays on Oxygen): The Glee Project.

Do I watch Glee? Nope.

My two favorite contestants, who I picked out during the first episode? Hannah and Cameron.

A-MAZ-ing song performed by Cameron this week? "Your Song." This version is incredible. I think you may fall for Mr. Mitchell yourself once you hear this/see his adorableness. I love it so much!:

All the women, independent

I went grocery shopping today.

I'll pause for your applause and pats on the back for finally taking care of this task.

I spent around $70.

The spending part wasn't comfortable, but I have milk now. I like milk. And two apples. And a tomato. (And some other things; I didn't spend $70 on those things only).

I held out on toilet paper--still have some rolls--and only got one box of facial tissues instead of a 3-pack.

Wrote the check for my car payment today--will be paid off this year!!!* Next up for big expenses? The student fees bill, I believe. Paying minimum payment due? You betcha. ;)

*I already have party plans to celebrate, involving a cake with a red matchbox car on top.

Broke, continued

46.

"What is the code for Chewy SweeTarts Minis in the newsroom vending machine, Alex."

Wanna know why I know that?

Well, besides the fact that I bought a bag yesterday (pretty sure I didn't memorize the code yesterday), when I went to buy a bag today, it got stuck.

So I went to my car to get more change, bought bag #2.

Bag #1 fell to my sweet tooth's pleased dispense,

AND BAG #2 GOT STUCK!

Well, I already felt bad/nervous for taking a longer-than-planned-due-to-the-double-dangling-tarts-event break from my shift, so I decided to head back to the print desk.

Well let it be known, after my shift I went back to my car, got more change, and purchased bag #3--which did NOT get stuck; finally, a well-behaved one--and collected bag #2 along with 3.

And, three dollars later...here we are.

Eavespetting

Just had pizza and beer with Sarah, Tony, and Tony, and the people at the table next to us dropped the name "Bailey."

"Ten bucks says they're talking about a dog," I said.

They were.

And they kept talking about their dogs. It was a little ridonculous. I mean, people who talk about their pets...