Chapter Sixty One

Watching i <3 huckabees is the perfect self-sedative for a weekend following a minor mental breakdown and one too many one-worded emails. Jesse says he wouldn’t leave even if I completely lost my figurative peanuts, but by the look on his face when I cracked open the can a few nights ago, I’ve got to be a tad more delicate with how I present the hubbub of my mind.

Im still waking up at 4:54am most mornings. I’m not sure what kind of timing it is – good, or bad – or if it’s just coincidence. Let me know if there’s any speculation on this.

-O. Nebulae

“I’m so happy to have a maid!”

Every RA/Caregiver’s ‘face palm moment’ is to hear a resident say something like this. Rather than someone who busted their butt to help the ancients of our world keep living comfortably, I was a maid – apparently.

It’s snowing heavy flecks outside the window, but it’s not even close to what would stop me from taking my usual morning run. I may be seeking the shelter of a Taun Taun somewhere along the way, but I can’t miss my run. I’ve never been a ‘running is fun!’ kind of person, but I feel significantly slobbier on days where I’ve passed on it. I’m going to finish my half cran/half orange juice and head out on my way. Fantastic days to you all!

-O. Nebulae

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Chapter Fifty Nine

With a new last name and some impulsive inspiration I woke up this morning itching to write.
Apologies for jumping strait from engagement to honeymoon, I know that’s sloppy. Planning the wedding made me want to pull my hair out and punch small animals, but the final event was romantic, simple, and unique. Bother me enough about it, and I just might post some photos.*

It’s been so difficult to decide between running around on the beach or having a Star Wars movie marathon. Not to mention the ability to sleep whenever I want is a gift near equal to marrying Jesse. Ok, so that’s a major exaggeration, but you get the idea.

Wine and cigars and the joining of two nerds. It’s good to be back.

-O.Nebulae

*If and when I feel like it.

Chapter Fifty Eight

You like Grape Nuts? Not even old people like Grape Nuts.

Jesse came with me to visit my mother this past weekend, and I felt the awkward crunch as my old family dynamic met my new one. As my mom was making me close my eyes to embellish me with a dragon finger puppet and Tinker Bell sun glasses for my birthday I give a look to Jesse that said, You see? Until that moment I’m not sure he had a sufficient perspective of the difference between how my mom saw me – and my actual niche in the world. I look back on my time spent growing up with her and try not to see it as a box I was forced into, but its difficult. Jesse met Squid which was a landmark not reached by any other ‘serious’ relationships in the past. What started off as coffee became nerdfest concernedly quickly, but by the end of the weekend Jesse received the Official Squid Seal of Approval and I was happy that my two favourite gentlemen were simpatico.

Jess and I also went to zomBcon – which was flippin awesome. Thanks to my awesome counterpart, I was smuggled into the last open seat of a Walking Dead Q&A panel with Norman Reedus and a few other members. We passed by authors, artists, and actors from familiar zombie films, but my legs went to jelly when I saw Judith O’Dea – or “Barbara” from the original Night of the Living Dead. They’re coming to get you, Barbara. I frantically whispered to Jess and prodded in her direction like a shy little lunatic. I had to be stopped from buying a box of Soylent Green, but I’m glad I didn’t because it would just sit in a cabinet somewhere, immortalized forever. 100% People Food was printed on the front – classic.

Only ~40 days and I’ll be moving into my new place and 52 days until I marry my life love. I’ve been glancing at the note taped to my roll-top desk more often, which reads: Life is not a problem that can be solved. It must be lived each day, and each day brings a jumble of choices that challenge our practical wisdom, our common sense, and our yearning for truth. I keep reminding myself that life doesn’t start after some given hurdle, but it’s hard to see my wedding as something less than a new chapter. A new start. I’ve been working to wrap my head around it all, and its boiled down to this: I’ve made the very best choice. Cue solace. Cue readiness. Cue unreserved love.

I’m going to hit the gym and go late-night grocery shopping. Just personal preference to be out and about at night, don’t judge.

Brains!

-O. Nebulae

Chapter Fifty Seven

The internet whore known as btjunkie reunited me with one of My Morning Jacket’s less popular albums Chapter One: The Sandworm Cometh: Early Recordings. Believe it or not, this low-quality recording was the one that made me embrace MMJ like the twisted little musical genius it is. I even named my cat (at the time) after my favourite track: Isobella.

To sum things up in a manner that isn’t ad nauseum, I’ve sent more emails in the past few weeks than I wanted to in an entire lifetime. The Finances Monster is certainly rearing its ugly head at … well, everything. I haven’t been stressing, just trying to be organized and hoping that each morning I wake up something other than a borderline-poverty bride to be. I would feel just as devoted to Jesse if all we did was spit in our palms and shake hands, but apparently there’s more that needs to go into it. Well, f**k!

Laying in bed one day I fantasized walking to Chapters late at night to do homework, then lurking on home to Jesse, my freaking husband. That’s when I knew everything would be alright. It’s been plenty long enough that I’ve lived a poor, piss-income and busy lifestyle alone. Look who I get to finally share that with. (Hahaha, I realize that may not sound like optimism, but I promise you it is).

-O. Nebulae

 

 

Chapter Fifty Six

This photo was taken about 2 minutes after he proposed!

I was too nervous to leave it in the box, Jesse said while shaking all over, all I kept imagining was that I’d drop it and it’d fall between the cracks in the boardwalk. Rewind 30 seconds and you’d see Jesse on one knee, holding his grandmother’s wedding ring in front of him. You’d see me, hands clapped over my mouth. Will you marry me? 

That was the Saturday before Labor Day, and since then life looks a little more different with each passing day. Many of my friends found our engagement to be such an earth-shattering surprise, but I don’t see why. Everything seems exactly as it should be. We’d been as good as married for quite a while, as far as I’d seen it. It wasn’t until a few days following our engagement that I realized just how clueless I was as a bride-to-be. Sure, I’d spent plenty of time thinking about marriage in the past. Unlike every other female, I haven’t been dreaming about weddings since I was eleven. I’ve been so stoked to marry Jess, that I completely forgot about the wedding. It’s a shame how many people get married just to experience the wedding. The wedding will be beautiful, but it’s the man on the other side I really care about. I’ve just never been a person to care about napkin colors, or whether my desserts matched my clothing.

Jesse harnessed his powers as a Graphic Design magician, and completely designed our invites. I spent this last week making my own garter (eat your heart out), and next Monday morning I’ll be taking a train down there to spend the entire week doing wedding stuff together. Pre-marital counseling. Registries. And because ours is a December wedding, we’ll be seeing the color of the lovely Christmas decorations that will be up during our wedding. I may have even found The Dress. Jess and I are so non-traditional, it’s a borderline fault. He thought I should dye my hair purple again for the wedding, I thought our cake toppers should be Leela and Fry from Futurama, and neither of us considered otherwise until we realized that our families might not enjoy it as much as we would. Oh well, we’re cooler than most.

I’ve been brushing up on my D&D smarts, and even went d20 shopping yesterday. I couldn’t choose though, because I know players get sentimental about their dice. I want to get my first d20 somewhere awesome. With just a little more preparation, I’ll be ready to join a live campaign soon. See? It’s possible to do what you love and also score a man that isn’t Quasimodo’s less attractive brother.

Wish me luck. Bitches make this ‘bridezilla’ thing look so easy.

-O. Nebulae

 

Chapter Fifty Five

I’ve always known I’ve been a member of the rare species of human commonly known as Nerd. Lately this truth has been especially self-evident as I’ve nuzzled my face back into comic books, but not in the honorable way where you cheerfully saunter down to the comic book store and buy a crisp new edition to cherish for eons. No, I’m the kind of nerd that gets a library card just so I can check out all of my favourites only to return them a week later with popcorn butter on the top page corners. The disgusting, untraditional recluse with truly nothing to brag about. But hot damn. I don’t care what pathetic dating realm this opens up, I love nerds and I love being a nerd.

I emailed the local comic bookstore owner who hosts weekly D&D tournies for noobs and long-time players alike, and admitted that after a few weeks of weary contemplation, I was ready to accept that I want to learn how to play D&D. I mean, really. I may like reading Iron Man comics, speak fluent 733t, and enjoy Star Wars movie marathons – but each of these things can be discretely disguised as trendy. Cool, even. D&D is crossing a line to a form of nerd that is generally discouraged in our society, and I don’t give a fuck.

I’ve read my way through all but maybe two of Chuck Palahniuk’s books, the last of which was Lullaby, but now I’m veering back into the classics with Herman Melville’s, Moby Dick. Two days of pretend life, and then I pick Jesse up from the train station. He says he’s in love with how nerdy I am. We’ll see what he thinks when I tell him about my plans for D&D.

-O. Nebulae

Chapter Fifty Four

I haven’t had a morning like this in awhile, but I guess that’s what happens when you are tired of living half-assed days and wake up with a lot on your mind. At 4:15 AM I was out of bed in a fashion quite similar to the opening scenes of 127 Hours. I hadn’t seen a legitimate sunrise in almost a year, so I threw a few things into my backpack, dawned sound-cancelling headphones, and pedaled North along The Canal. The Canal is a filthy waterway that separates the farmlands from the freeway, but in the light of a rising sun you’d never guess. I biked farther than I ever had before, stopping only when I reached a place I knew was The Spot. I parked my bike on a small wooden bridge and looked up at the moon. Even as the sun was rising, it wasn’t relinquishing the sky in the slightest. I got out my disposable and snapped a few photos, drank half of what was in my water bottle, and started the return trip. I could see this ride becoming another one of my regular things, but we shall see.

-O. Nebulae

Chapter Fifty Three

These last few days I’ve been able to sleep in, read my books, work on art projects, watch movies and bike to the gym whenever and as often as I well please – and still something has been off. It’s pathetic, really. On more than one occasion I had to step back and audibly reprimand myself. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT? WHY AREN’T YOU HAPPY? WHAT MORE COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT? 

I decided to harness one of the most precious lessons I’ve learned from my experience as a Quaker, and that is the benefits of Silence. I put ear plugs in and sat on the floor to try and rid my mind of all distractions. Closing my eyes I pictured an old crate in a void of darkness – an image I always brought to mind when there were things in the forefront of my conscious that needed to be silenced and locked away. I grabbed the music, Moose, work, the past and future, and imagined putting them away in the crate and locking it. This was a technique I made up during my time attending Psychotherapy, but it works when centering down with that still small voice as well.

Tonight? More books. More praying, writing, thinking, philosophizing, and an inexplicable desire to research the internal anatomy of the honey bee. For a couple days now, inbetween my extra-wordly thoughts, I’ve come back to the same curiosity about bee anatomy. I hope this blog finds you as truth-mongering as it very much so finds me. Even the simpler beautiful sciences of God’s world need to be marveled at from time to time, no?

-O. Nebulae

 

 

Chapter Fifty Two

I would like to publicly announce that today can officially fuck off. The only call I received today was about my job at the high school that may or may not be. For my own well being I thought about going to the cinema, or out to a show, or even a freaking dance club but there’s only shit for all three. I even considered staying home and watching Scarface, or painting, or finishing one of the 7 books I’m in the middle of. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Freedom to leave, and freedom to stay home alone? I want to crawl out of my skin in both circumstances. Laying in my bed watching pictures on the ceiling I flew to my feet and yelled FUCK IT! This is my fucking Friday on planet Earth! I’m gunna put on the Avett brothers, make a fucking delicious dinner, and drive somewhere fantastic for tonight’s meteor shower.

-O. Nebulae