in my heart of heart

Pretty good day today. I'm slowly trudging my way out of the deep depressive funk I've been in since my grandmother died, I guess. I cleaned my apartment last week, and I stopped veering between eating like a trash compactor and not eating at all. Back to my preferred sleep schedule, exercising, and not crying in my car. Ah, life.

When I left my apartment this morning to go to the Greenway, my friendly junkie neighbor - I am making assumptions based on her dental situation, strange burns on her hands, and the way her slurred speech is an exact copy of my junkie cousin's - stuck her head out of her car and said, "You don't happen to have jumper cables, do you?" BUT I DID. Thanks, dad. I didn't know how to attach them, but she did, and fortunately a jump was all it needed, as the only other thing I could have done was what we had to do to my car a few weeks ago, which is to remove the built-up oxidation/corrosion on the battery posts that prevents it from making a strong connection. Having a string of shitty cars teaches you a lot about cars.

After the mild stalking incident a couple of years ago, I really haven't done much dating, but I usually activate an OkCupid profile for a few weeks each spring in a burst of optimism, before nuking it from orbit after awkward turtling my way through a bunch of bearded strangers. Had a first date on Wednesday with a guy I got along with quite well through text and who I had a great time talking with, but between his extreme earnestness and sending me a smiley-faced photo of himself yesterday that confirmed I never, ever want to have sex with him, I cancelled date #2 and signed up for Tinder. Have a date for drinks tomorrow afternoon, barring snow. Also considering recommitting myself to a life of celibacy, as emotions are unpleasant and I already have the cat.

Anyway, yesterday I tried to make some plans with my friends for this weekend, but they were busy doing married people stuff, like visiting mothers-in-law and helping sisters-in-law move. Last Saturday, we did an off-brand Wine and Design at Kathren's house, because she's a proper artist with an art degree, and I actually produced a credible facsimile of a barn with sunflowers. So I decided to take myself out today, including having lunch at the fancy coffee house with the delicious salad dressing and going to see Logan. When I was in college, I never thought twice about doing things like going to the movies on my own, or eating at a restaurant with a book for company, but something about the intense pressure here to be part of a group or a couple has made me extremely self-conscious about it. But I did it today, and it was lovely, and I will do it again in the future.

The book I'm struggling through is another Dan Simmons doorstopper. I read The Terror in January because I saw they're making a TV show out of it with my man Tobias Menzies in it sometime this year, and also because I have a fascination with arctic and maritime disasters. (This is an extremely specific niche interest that I occasionally trot out as an ice-breaker [ha] on dates.) The man is, it has to be said, an awful, repetitive, dry writer, but I am obsessed with his plots. I hope the one I'm reading now, The Abominable, has a resolution at least as ridiculous as The Terror.

Incidentally, if you could recommend something with a similar plot/setting but a better writer, I would be immensely grateful.

I've definitely gone off superhero movies, probably because of the supersaturation of comic book adaptations over the past several years, but I will always show up for a Wolverine movie. I'm the lowest common denominator of X-Men fans, because I don't care about the comics and all I want is to watch Hugh Jackman brutally repress feelings of anxiety, despair, self-loathing, helplessness, and rage for two hours at a time while being delightfully hairy. So, somewhat needless to say at this point, I've been looking forward to seeing Logan since I saw the trailer with Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt" sometime last winter.

( spoilers )