Yeah no let's be realistical here on the internets. Instead...

Every so often, in life, I suddenly get possessed by the manifest spirit of Providence to keep using one phrase or word like it was breathing. During vacation, it was 'decidedly.' Your guess = my guess. Nowadays, it is ROCO. Much like Srirachi Sauce and anything with noodles, I use it often. I've become so enamored of the phrase that I want to photoshop together or otherwise commission art of a punk rooster with a guitar. Not actually rocking out. I want a post-rock rooster on the paranoia side of a meth binge.

ROCO has been an operative mindset for awhile.

It's more subtle persuasions come while I'm furiously scribbling notes during my systems neuro class. As the far, far too long 90 minute marathon of biology and random quizzings drags on, I stay reasonably focussed. Dead Kennedys, the trailer for Black Snake Moan, or other bits occasionally slap my executive brain function area away from total studiousness.

Jesus Christ how that course is pedantic. Granted it's as useful as cervical cancer injections, but probably about as pleasant. This is ironic, given that I loved my neuroanatomy class as an undergrad. Dr. B made this material so much more approachable. But it's not like we're expected to actually read anything but discussion articles, so I've had a very healthy amount of free time. Less guilt-soaked like ladyfingers and more 'wow I have a life again.'

Having a life as a student means socializing with people and alcohol. I did a stint of this on friday over at Drew's 26th birthday party. Now the caveat to this business was a prediction from the weather service: 16 inches of snow on sunday. It done seemed that the snow invited itself over early. Really early. Now I'd decided--being near downtown already--that I'd eat at Chipotle with Chipotle tabasco, stick around a coffee shop, do some work, then head out to the party. Somewhere inbetween watching Squidbillies on YouTube and talking to Mari about my prospective blind date, the sky fluttered open. Light wisps of snow trailed down. Some more snow decided this was a good idea. Then more snow. And as the heavens were rent asunder, it was Christmas in February. There went my plans to start running again.

And there went my weekly chocolate chip cookie/dessert thing as I headed out at 8:50.

I was at the party for a good 3, 4 hours. At first it was just friends of Nate, Drew's roomate I don't know so well. I was having a good old time getting to know people. Many psych people showed up bit by bit: Owen who recently quit the program to become a country music star again; Matt, who Brian confirmed is constantly high (but one fucking fabulous human-being); Alex, who I hadn't talked to in 2 years; and many other folk that passed by either briefly or semi-briefly. I'd wanted to talk with Anne awhile, mostly since she's nice and gives off that feeling like you have her completely undivided attention--but yeah didn't happen. Nothing particularly mind blowing revelational. I met some new folk that knew Nate, like the two library science girls. A few hours in, Jamie decided he'd do the DJ deed and somehow got a mixing program onto one of the local laptops.

That's about when I quickly lost interest in sticking around. I'm a music snob. I know what I like to dance to. I tried getting into the Timberlake pop-y deal that was being spun, but I was either too sober or too turned off. Mostly the former. I decided to quit 'early', attempted to track down my equipment at the party, failed for awhile, hung out with the two cats in their holding room, got said equipment, then trudged through the snow. It was late friday night, so all manners of drunk undergrads were out. The suddenly lost but suddenly found people, the so drunk they fell into the snow and can't get up people, the random hellos to darkly dressed men carrying alptop cases sorts. Every manner of young beast was present in that snow-saturated evening.

But I'm skipping the best night time-wise.

Thursday of last week was my blind date with Emily. Originally I'd accepted this proposition purely on a 'what the hell' basis. She'd been a student here but recently graduated to a real life job. I'd googled her name and found a CV. She'd gotten the same kind of fellowship I had my first year. Thing is, that's a minority fellowship (where I'm White and Native American Indian, Tennessee Cherokee and Aleut). And so I began to wonder what background Emily might be from. I've dated asian and latina women before, had an odd but pleasant foray with a black chick way back when I was 16.

In short, I was expecting someone very different from myself--but still thinking we'd have fun. Geek lineages run strong and the roots are deep.

I'd picked the 1st date place (Barrique's, my old haunt), the meeting location, time, etc. I end up making most of the decisions in a given group, so this isn't new to me. It had been quite awhile since I'd done a blind date, though.

I now interspersedly write and quote myself from my convo with Mari, who's been good enough to be my dating co-pilot in navigating these wind-swept shoals. You've helped me out big.

So Emily and I met near the Capitol in what approximates decently warm weather for us. I got there 5 minutes before the suggested time (7:30), sat, closed various applications on my laptop (which I'd brought in case I wanted to pimp my photos, which seemed like a good idea over e-mail), and generally wondered what was going to happen.

About 5 minutes after 7:30, an attractive brown-haired white girl came up, smiled and introduced herself. I smiled back. We shook hands and headed off to the cafe I suggested. Given that it'd gone to 40 from -20 in the span of a week, I joked about the weather. She joked back. I had a good feeling about this.

We were there for about 2 hours. One of the first things she asked about was my work and, by extension, my research. Inwardly I was a little trepidatious, considering I do not exactly bad but not exactly good things with non-human primates.

So I go on with the usual spiel. She crossed her arms at a few points which seemed like a not so good at all thing, but I persevered with explaining the bits she wanted to hear about. Occasionally she asked follow-up questions. I attempted to answer them. In my round-about way I eventually did. Thankfully talking about monkey research didn't bother her. I was pleasant, maybe kinda tense (where I hadn't done normal dates since Wisconsin Erin). She was energetic and out-going. The conversation hit stride when I brought up Nicholas (which I do in damn near every new person convo) and learned she was from Detroit.

And there was much joking to be had about developers making town houses for "urban living" across from burnt out buildings and vacant lots.

We both love the city but we know it's a piece of crap that's just kinda rotting on the vine. 'course that's one of the reasons I like it. Detroit is like that sister that's spiraling through a drug habit but has taken to writing novels about it in amidst crying stints and dyeing the floors salty red.

So she suggests after awhile, "hey would you like to get a real drink?" And I'm thinking..sweet, she's entertained enough where she wants to move to a different venue/get the both of us a little loose. Probably to get me to unwind. Of course I'm like sure. I had an article I needed to read for today, but hell, how often do I go out on a blind first date that goes well?

I thought things were going well because she smiled often, maintained eye contact a lot, and we did a little of body mirroring--not much, but some.

So we go to the Brocach/local Irish pub. She'd picked up my drink at the coffee place because she had a free card from her employer. So naturally I said I'd pick up her drink to return the favor.
She had Harp, I had tequila sunrises. And we proceeded to talk for about the next 3 hours on TV series and how ungodly horrible some are (e.g. full house) and how some kick ass (her favorite is 'the hills,' which sounded fairly entertaining from the description).

We rarely broke eye contact with one another, and around the middle of the 2nd drink I'd lost most of my tenseness. Cliched though it is, her chestnut eyes had this warm and inviting quality, like she didn't want to be anywhere else but right there. Same. There'd been an awkward pause or two at the coffee shop, but we kept coming up with all sorts of amusing tangents at the bar. Oh, and I decided to sit at the bar portion of the bar because, hey, sitting next to her made more sense than across. At a few points I wondered if I'd get that universally recognized sign of 'hey, I'm into you', that slight fleeting touch. But I'm guessing we were both doing the first date thing. We did exchange some personal info one usually doesn't, though, like my lower left molar story. She seemed suitably sympathetic.

At some point we found out that the other person was left-handed. That was funny. She kept going on about how we were superior. She was especially amused when I started listing neurological reasons why it sucks less to have a stroke if you're a leftie.

Around 12:30 we started walking. I assumed we were walking back to her place. We were good-naturedly bantering about left-handedness, other drunk people here and there, and just generally laughing.

Here's where I'm not sure if I did the right thing.

So at one point she stops and says 'so my place is over there in that apartment complex.' I take this phrase to mean that this is the expected place where we'll part ways. (Sometime later back at the house, Brian--who was absolutely fucking baked out of his mind when he suggested this--said 'No!! Dude she wanted you to follow her to her apartment and lick her pussy! Shit.' Jesus Christ I laughed at that.)

So I said I'd had a great time, it was good to meet her, and hey would you like to go out again? She smiled and said yeah emphatically, though I was drunk enough at that point where I wasn't paying attention to body language much. At this point we stand there for a clip. And I decide...I decide to extend my hand out for a handshake. Yeah I have no idea, I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. I'm a consideration whore. She ended up hugging me and me back. Wow, I thought, a genuinely nice, warm person that isn't psychotic. Rock on.

The next day I emailed, said the above and if she wanted to go out again. Indeed she did. I decided I'd be bold with the 2nd date. See she's in a bowling league; loves it. So I figure, hey, I don't have a sports hobby, we'll go bowl and she can laugh her ass off while trying to teach me. Mari agreed it was brilliant.

The current plan is to do that this friday late in the evening, though not too late if we decide to drink there, drive somewhere and have late night food.

The obstacle to another fun date with a beautiful woman? This entire week.

Oh you do not know the pain of this week. Lemme see:

*The week long 'do draws at 8am and 3pm on Wed Fri and noon cognitive tests on Tues Thurs' test

*MRI prep on monday, actual MRI complete with waking up at 6:30am on tuesday.

*Lab meeting with the Johnson lab clear on the other side of campus at 3--making tuesday the damned busiest day by far.

*Class--which wouldn't be so horrible if I knew the bastard was going to give us a quiz sometime this week.

*PPI tests on tuesday and thursday with one of the senior staff. The most awkward, soul-killing 35 minutes if I've ever known 'em.

*Meeting with my promoter and other photographers to discuss the upcoming photo show.

It's fucking insane. But there's hopefully some good fun at the end of it all.

...

Jesus I didn't cover the Inferno just last night. Um. Quick synopsis: 16 inch snow blizzard outside. Clothes washing at laundromat. Ate at shitty high class burrito place next door. Went out anyway. Only Dorian Grey/Jeff and Lexington/Mike and I were there with staff for 40 minutes. Mike gave me the hook-up for what seems like a damn boss local leather shop. Woman does custom metal and leather work. My bank account spunks gunk while dancing with a smile. Rather small crowd but some regs show up. Goth King and Queen, fat Eddie dude who danced some this time which was cool. Some random girly girl b-day folk were there. Mike and I gave each other a 'what the fuck? Eh, what the fuck' look. Jeff and I talked about the clicky ways of the inner goth circle, to which he had some access because "I'm old enough to be everyone's dad here." I said he was a peer to me. He smiled genuinely. I love the guy, I do, and that's just not the occasional free drink talking.

Danced my ass clean off. Thin though I am, this is not a slight ass.

Earplugs are good, will need to wear them in future.

3 gin and tonics doesn't do it anymore. I need to upgrade to shots or sangria. Damned Irish blood.

There. If you read all of that, I hope you had a good stint of procrastination. I know I did.

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