My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction
December 1 - 10, 2012
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My Face for the World to See (Part II): The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly a fiction
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Monday, 10 December 2012 (field of opportunity) 11:27am Finished the final exam in Cataloging, and I got 100%! And with that, the Fall 2012 semester is finally over for me. Now I can finally start getting some work done. 2:35pm Just submitted my ballot for the 2012 Village Voice / L.A. Weekly Film Critics' Poll. Nutty times. 4:16pm The publisher is "intrigued" by one of my other book ideas, and would like to see a proposal. So maybe that's going to be the thing? | ||
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Sunday, 9 December 2012 (barstool blues) 10:51am With a bit of Marta's help at the end—basically, her checking my math and generally making sure it made sense—I've sent off the big research proposal that's been consuming so much of my time this past month. I've getting 100% in the class otherwise, so that gives me a bit of leeway on the proposal, but I still want it to be as excellent as possible. And after the final in my cataloging class tomorrow, I'm done with this semester. But for now, lunch at Yum Yum Fish. 7:21pm The Mission is extra Mission-y tonight. I had to cross the street to avoid someone who decided to stop and piddle where they were standing, and it just futher Missioned out from there. Granted, I was parked on 18th between Mission and South Van Ness, which is kinda known for that sort of thing. 11:47pm Low turnout at Bad Movie Night for It Happened One Christmas, because there's no reason there wouldn't be. | ||
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Saturday, 8 December 2012 (four strong winds) 8:47am When god closes a door, that means it's time to grab a sledgehammer and knock down the whole damn wall. (Or, as c0g suggested, to find a new god entirely.) | ||
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Friday, 7 December 2012 (will to love) 11:04am The tough thing about writing an abstract is making it clear and concise, which I guess qualifies as ironic. | ||
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Thursday, 6 December 2012 (homegrown) 12:41pm Not the first time I've had to remind myself of this in recent memory, and not the last. I've been brainstorming new book ideas, especially since the publisher who would have done the book is still interested in other pitches. Granted, they've already shot down another of my idea, but something's gotta stick eventually.Failure is one of those things that 'serious people' dread. Invariably, the people most likely to be crippled by this fear are people who have convinced themselves that they are so bitchen they shouldn't ever be placed in a position where they might fail. | ||
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Wednesday, 5 December 2012 (saddle up the palomino) 7:36am The charming luau music being played in San Francisco General Hospital's Outpatient Pharmacy, the same room as the Pharmacy, is not making me hate it here any less. 8:32am Post-bloodletting huevos rancheros at Sun Rise. Marta and I had originally planned on going to St. Francis Fountain, but they weren't open in spite of it being well after the time they were supposed to be open, which just figures. 10:53am Dropped Marta off at her place, and am now at The Dark Room to do a quick photoshoot with Jim for the promo material for the SF Sketchfest edition of Bad Movie Night. Which means, hey, Bad Movie Night is going to be in SF Sketchfest next year! It was touch and go for a while there. 12:13pm After I was done at The Dark Room, I went to Lyon-Martin to let them know that I'd gotten the labs done at the hospital, and more importantly, to not call in a one-month prescription. I tried my best to emphasize this point, and I think it worked, that I'll jump through whatever hoops I have to and wait however much longer I have to in order to get a three-month prescription. I think they understood. I considered then going to my mechanic and getting Phoebe's front license plate fixed, since I've been putting it off for nearly a month now, but I decided that I've had enough adventure for one day. 1:45pm Two new reviews up on The Village Voice today. One is of an animated movie from out of India called Delhi Safari, and I'm quite proud that my shout-out to My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic survived to the final edit. The other is for a documentary called The Sheik and I. (I suspect it'll eventually get distilled down to "'Funny and visually inventive!' -- Village Voice" on the video box.) Also, I once again have a piece in the Night + Day section of the print version. Today's a threefer! 2:12pm And I just got some very bad news, and it hurts. The book proposal that I originally wrote back in the spring, and which at times was coming this close to happening, is officially dead. Worse, the book (or something very similar to it) is still going to happen, I'm just not going to be involved. The fact that I was kept out of the loop as decisions were being made, and had to learn about it third-hand, means it's going to sting for a good long while. Oh, this business. | ||
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Tuesday, 4 December 2012 (through my sails) 1:42pm Had my second catching-up session with The Nice Lady (we had plenty to talk about, given all the weirdness of this past weekend), then went to Lyon-Martin to get my prescription refill called in. Like last time, I think I made far more sense in person than I would have over the phone. Tonight, Marta and I have dinner with Ilene. 9:31pm So, we had sushi at Mikado, and then hung out for a while longer at Coffee Bar. It was all perfectly pleasant, and Marta and I were driving back to the Black Light District (since we're not spending Tuesday nights at her place this week) when I got a voicemail from Lyon-Martin. It was also perfectly pleasant, but also terribly troubling, in that the they said that I would have to get new bloodwork done before I can get a refill done—and that since I was on Healthy San Francisco, I'd have to get said bloodwork done at San Francisco General Hospital, after which they'd go ahead and call in one-month prescription. That part was extremely troubling, since Lyon-Martin is my medical home and the entire damned point of a medical home is so you don't need to go to the hospital to get blood drawn. Also, the thought of a one-month prescription creates a feeling of near-panic, since it means I'd have to go back to the Pharmacy again in a month. Four times a year is more than bad enough. Lyon-Martin was open for another half hour, so we immediately changed course and went there. (Parked on a stretch of Gough that was a regular area for me back in my Power Exchange days. Made me feel more than a little nostalgic.) The person behind the counter (whom I'd spoken to earlier in the day, but not the person who left the voicemail) was of course perfectly pleasant, but they didn't seem to understand why I would be confused about being sent to the hospital for something I've always done in the office. I guess I must be the first patient to call shenanigans on it, as unlikely as it seems. It was also tricky to get a straight answer about whether or not the bloodwork required fasting. Seems like something they'd want to inform the patient of. In any event, the lab at the hospital opens tomorrow morning at seven, and we intend to be there when it does. | ||
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Monday, 3 December 2012 (borrowed tune) 10:18am Marta's here, working off a hangover. What happened was, I received a text message from her at about a quarter past nine (while I was at Bad Movie Night suffering through Santa Claus: The Movie with a predictably small crowd) which read: i am so l. Huh. After the show was over, I walked to Phoebe, conveniently parked half a block down Mission from The Dark Room. At first I didn't think it was her, though, since there was clearly someone asleep in the passenger seat. And she's not the only 1999 Saturn SL1 in this town. I stepped back: kittypr0n sticker and a cutie mark, so it was definitely my car. It was of course Marta, and drunk and passed out. I managed to wake her long enough for her to hurl (mostly liquid, but mostly in the car) and determine that she was okay, that she was just hammered. Once I was certain she could be moved safely—I take some pride in the fact that I limit my exposure to drunk people, so I'm not always certain what's safe for them—I drove her back to her place and walked her upstairs, keenly aware of the irony that I was back in her apartmet about twenty-four hours after I said I wasn't going back there. I put her to bed (narrowly avoiding coming face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend / current roommate in the hallway), briefly considered staying the night, realized that there wasn't actually any good reason to do so, and came home. Woke up around seven to a text message from her, saying that she was on her way over "to begin the groveling process." Which has been going just fine. 5:14pm Indeed, the rest of the day has been very pleasant. We wound up back in her neighborhood at M's Cafe for a late and greasy breakfast, I went into her apartment for a record-breaking second time so she could get her computer, then spent the afternoon working at my place. We're now about to head into the Mission so she can go to her Monday night class, and I can get the squid tightened. And not a moment too soon, either, since I've been losing far too many tentacles. And then, Justified with the Goldies, like any other Monday night. 8:13pm The squid is tightened, and almost as importantly, the black wool beret I recently acquired fits perfectly over it. Hooray for getting to keep a warm head. | ||
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Sunday, 2 December 2012 (new mama) 9:36am The power's back on. Charge all the things! 12:14pm Drove Marta back home, then returned to the Black Light District to work. I guess this is how Sundays will be playing out for the time being. There was another party this afternoon that we'd planned on attending together, this one in the Mission (same place as the pumpkin-carving party, in fact), but she'll be going by herself. sometime after midnight Well, that was all rather unexpected. | ||
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Saturday, 1 December 2012 (mellow my mind) 2:14pm I'm not going to Marta's place again anytime soon. At the very least, I'm not staying the night there, but I think I'm going to try to avoid it on general principle. The intake interview actually went quite well, as did the rest of the evening, until around nine o'clock at her place. We were in her living room getting caught up on The Daily Show and The Colbert Report when her ex-boyfriend / current roommate emerged from his bedroom and starting cooking in the kitchen. Which is what it's for, but as soon as the episode we were watching ended, I quietly inisted that we retire to (Marta's) bedroom. Which we did. I slept well enough, but this morning as I was lacing up my boots, I started to cry. Just couldn't handle the sadness slash unhappiness about her ex-boyfriend still being such a prominent part of her life. (Not the first time I've had a crying jag about it, but I intend for it to be my last one. And since it's not a situation that's going to change in the foreseeable future, they like living together and there's no good reason for either Marta or her ex-boyfriend to upset that particular status quo, so it's up to me to act in my own self-interest, which means not running the risk of being around him.) I walked her to the bus stop—it was raining, and we probably both said things we wouldn't have said if we weren't both being stressed out and rained on—and then came home. Still haven't told her about my decision to not go back there, but I've made it. I'll no doubt tell her this evening when we go into Berkeley, both on business and pleasure. 6:37pm Rain just doesn't help anything. We drove arrived at UC Berkeley at five, only to find that the optometry department (the reason we were there, as Marta's in the process of getting new glasses) which was supposed to be open until half past five actually closed at half past three. So we decided to get dinner at Udupi Palace on University Avenue, taking forever to find parking on this stereotypically dark and rainy night, and Udupi itself was crowded and loud, so we're across the street at Chaat Cafe. Any messy Indian comfort food in storm. sometime after midnight Back at my place, where the power doesn't want to stay on very long. Marta and I had both been going to holiday party in Oakland thrown by friends of hers, but I decided that it was more than I could handle, and our fighting (and perhaps my announcement that I wouldn't be going to her place for at least this next week, possibly long) got to be too much for Marta, so we just came back here. | ||
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