1) I live in Austin now.
2) If you read this and I’ve met you once, you are invited to stay with me in Austin whenever you and your beloved want to. I’m six miles from downtown, bitches!
2b) Seriously. LET ME HOST YOU! I grew up in the south. I will get you drunk on nice liquor, take you to a good show, give you and your beloved my bed, and make you breakfast in the morning! Biscuits and gravy, naturally.
3) School is back up. The location is shitty BUT most of the students are ex-military which make them ridiculously more studious than the kids in my program in St. Louis. I wasn’t especially studious at Smith but I’m both older now and understand that a slacker at Smith is the valedictorian at other places.
4) St. Louis is burning. My facebook feed tempts me to throw my computer out of the window. Then I remember that the dumb shitheads help to remind me to be useful in life. Whenever I moved to St. Louis I was shocked by how goddamned racist that place is…this coming from an Arkansas girl who grew-up in a 98% white town (white-flight) where the KKK distributed fliers on our high school campus. It’s heartbreaking, eye-opening, and a reminder that advocacy is the responsibility of the privileged. The white folk. And the educated folk. And every goddamn person folk. These people (racists) are fucking me up with their talk of “these people” (darkies). I kind of wish I could retake my minorities politics class that I had last term so I could air this shit out with a trained professional who could remind me when to check my white lady privilege.
5) I’M SO HAPPY TO BE IN AUSTIN!
6) There’s a boy. He’s tall and has big hands. He writes songs about his Appalachian snake charming Baptists forefathers. We swap books. He takes off his turquoise rings and puts them on my fingers before we make-out. Then he whispers that I’m the prettiest girl in Texas — far more swoon-worthy when said in his thick Alabama drawl. He makes me dinner and gets really frustrated when he overcooks the pork. His dog loves me. My one close friend in the Austin music scene yelled at me when I mentioned meeting a musician — “don’t go frisbeeing around that sugar snatch to every goddamn ‘musician’ in this town, baby girl.” Then we went to his set and before the second song started she firmly grabbed my arm and said “YOU KEEP THIS BOY CLOSE! CLOSE!”
7) Turns out cowboy boots are far sexier when worn by boys who write murder love songs about the devil with New Testament imagery as opposed to by boys who have lots of oil money. The last song, y’all. Panty melter. PANTY MELTER!
If Taylor Swift did not slip Prince William a dirty note in that event where they were both singing, then our generation has lost. At life. I know I sound 13 and southern and straight and gross, but COME ON!
You’ve been dirty enough to date John Mayer, yer dirty enough to throw yourself at goddamn Prince William.
That is all.
1) Sure, the BoSox won the WS. Weirdo series. Still wasn’t as awesome as our win in 2011. =) Good job, though, kids.
2) I got into graduate school. So in exactly two years and a few months I’ll be a shrink. And my dream of being on a softball team called the Shrinky Dinks will finally be possible.
3) Back to Austin in a few days. Should be super awesome!
4) yay life!
You watch a gorgeous travel show on PBS about Peru while emailing a cowboy banker who’s working in Peru…probably raping the earth and cutting down everything beautiful to make the world’s richest people a little bit richer. Ugh. I need to bone a hippie to make-up for this, in a cosmic way.
Today I looked into the face of God and smiled, looked down, then nervously continued to polish wine glasses. Then the following conversation took place -
Me: Pssst. HEY…there’s a super hero sitting in the bar.
Co-Worker: Um…you’ll have to be more specific.
Me: The Wiz.
CW: Like Michael Jackson?
Me: No, stupid. THE Wiz.
Me: Ozzie Smith!
Me: OZZIE SMITH! THE WIZARD!
Me: The best short stop in the history of the world!
CW: Oh…um, like…that guy who beat out Sami Sosa for the homerun thing?
Me: YOU GREW UP IN ST. LOUIS! WHY ARE YOU THIS STUPID?!?
I’ve hidden from the tumblr-sphere too much. Which is a shame, because it’s a nice way of keeping up with everyone and I can cuss more here than on facebook. Let’s see.
It’s finals week! The second since January. My school has 9 week terms, which is rough, but I think I’m leaning on the pros because if I were still in one of my classes from the first term, I’d hate life a little too much. Grad school Regan does all of her reading and talks a lot in class, but she still groans when 1/3rd of her classmates speak-up. She still procrastinates on her papers, but less so. (Turns out, when you do all of your homework, it’s easier to get As.)
Oh! And I’m moving back to Texas. This summer. In two months. The decision came down to “leave Missouri now” or “leave Missouri in 3-4+ years with additional costs and paperwork.” I’ve been itching to leave for awhile…so moving it is. Texas is equidistant to family, a better state to practice in, full of cities, and full of boys in cowboy boots and tequila.
I’ve learned that I have a do a SHIT TON of work and a have a great deal of patience before I will ever become a decent therapist, but the people in charge tell me I’m on a great path, so I’m trusting in that. Also, it turns out that therapists turned professors make for a special breed of professors. One in particular can pull an entire room to the brink of sobbing in all of three sentences in the middle of a discussion about the most mundane of topics. She shows up in my dreams to tell everyone else to stop fucking with me. It’s exciting and empowering to know that with enough time and experience that I can get similar super-powers.
I’m going to have to take a science class. I haven’t had one of those in many, many years.
No one tell 1989 Regan that 2013 Regan is no where near a real wedding dress. You can let her know that her bedroom is still pink, though.
This week marks the seven year anniversary of meeting my super, duper, far too handsome and charming for my own good crush. Also, the beginning of the longest “relationship” that I’ve ever had with a man. He writes the most delicious love letters and smiles at me in a very dangerous way. Nineteen more days until we meet again. Sigh. But really, those boots! That smile! Those hands! The mindless chatter about emerging markets! And baseball! And great cocktails! And the hand holding and the really, really dirty bits that I’m leaving out.
Sure, lots of it may simply be make-believe, but so far, having a fairy tale day or two every few months is far more exciting than any other option.
Did I mention his hands? And his boots? And the way that he holds my face as he kisses my forehead then the tip of my nose?
Kumar Pallana, famed for his roles in nearly all Wes Anderson films, passed away. He was 94.
This was the second highlight of my day. The first being the Cards beating the Dodgers in the first game of the NLCS.