Zombie Tarot

My Zombie Tarot cards arrived on Wednesday and here's my first spread. Aren't they awesome? I pulled these cards for insight on the past, present and future of my love life:

Past - Kind of Hazards
In Zombie Tarot speak the King of Hazards symbolizes the following: "Steady, reliable, and slightly boring, the King of Hazards is shackled to his material possessions and proud to admit it. Go to him for advice on money and investing and he'll never steer you wrong. Although this person may be a valuable ally in a business endeavor, he can be somewhat distant in personal or family relationships. He may represent an older man looking out for your well-being." Three words to sum up this card: distant, hard work, and business.

Hummm. I haven't decided yet what this means in relation to my love life. Looking at some other information on this minor arcana, this card symbolizes completion of a task, fulfillment of a goal, acquisition of methods that lead to success, achievement of spiritual richness, valuing quality over quantity, learning to enjoy a full and joyful life, and spending money when appropriate to bring more joy. Yep, I've got most of these covered. 

Present - Ten of Wands
The Ten of Wands symbolizes the following: "Why does everything have to be your responsibility? Why does the horde expect you to deliver a fresh meal every night? You're trying to juggle dozens of femurs and mandibles and clavicles, but all this work has left you exhausted and ready to quit. You've got every right to feel overwhelmed, but don't fret--the cycle is ending. A new path will reveal itself soon." Three words to sum up this card: burdens, responsibility, struggle.

Yep, I identify with this card, especially after the Egyptian called me on Saturday. WTF? After an hour long conversation, I asked (begged?) him again to let me go. After he left in March, I had my astrological birth chart done; the astrologer is also an intuitive. We talked about the Egyptain and he felt that the Egyptian would never let me go and that he would always be in my life but he didn't know in what form. Maybe I just need to accept this, because it appears the astrologer is right. Each time I've asked him to get me go, he does for a little while and then he comes back to bite me in the ass. On the flip side, fuck no. He's marrying his cousin. I do feel overwhelmed at times, and I'm exhausted. The astrologer said I'm coming upon the end of a 30 year cycle, when the sun and moon cross paths. It's like the last bloom has died and the new one hasn't come up yet. Blossoming beings on October 23, then I'll start to have direction and feel passion again, and something will be born from their crossing in fall. This new path is in the stars and in the cards. At the very least this card reminds me to not get discouraged and to keep on chugging along.

Future - Page of Hazards

The Page of Hazards symbolizes the following: "The Page of Hazards is too cute to resist--plus, he's giving out killer stock tips. His arrival in the spread is a clue to a new beginning; look for opportunities involving money and education. Just be sure you're not too shackled to your current career or material possessions. Leave yourself the opportunity to lurch in new directions!" I'm not, and I am. Three words to sum up this card: responsible, determination, new beginnings.

But how to relate this to my love life? Perhaps the cards are telling me to focus on my career and to be open to moving to another city, state, or country. I've sensed for years that Settle is not the final city for me. It seems like I'm supposed to keep my options open. Lucky for me I'm already in that mindset. I'm prepared to put my non-sentimental belongings on Craig's List or donate them to charity. Or burn them in a fire pit at the beach. See? I'm open. Yay for new beginnings! Maybe a new job in a different city?

I draw tarot cards periodically, mostly for entertainment value. But sometimes they remind me of something important or help me views things from a different perspective - like even though I may feel overwhelmed I know it will pass or that I can create a new new beginning by being open to opportunities and taking some action.

Penultimate Hoop Jumping Event

Despite my lack of a Man Friday, I successfully jumped through the penultimate academic hoop - the dissertation proposal defense - on Monday, July 16. In an oral examination, I fielded and deflected questions about my proposed Ph.D. research topic: the impact of registered sex offenders on neighborhood structure, processes, and crime. My committee was pleased with my performance so I'm a Ph.D. Candidate now! Wooo hoooo! If I was still working in my Ph.D. department, I'd even get a pay raise from a poverty level stipend to, well, another poverty level stipend. As it is, I work at the university in another department in a classified staff (union) position for which I will never receive a pay raise, but that's not really an issue since I don't plan to be here that long. 

One week has passed and the excitement of becoming a Ph.D. Candidate has waned. I had several celebrations and yesterday I selected my post-Ph.D. travel destination: Greece. I have about one year's worth of work before I perform my final academic hoop jumping event - the dissertation defense - and earn my Ph.D. Then I get to go to Greece. So I'll reassert my request for a Man Friday. I'll get to Greece quicker if I have one.

I had two simple criteria for my post-Ph.D. travel destination: 1) no arranged marriages and 2) located on the Mediterranean Sea. That narrowed my options. A lot. I heard rumors that Greek men fuck goats, but I'm sure it's a vast, sweeping generalization of one event to the entire population of Greek men. It would be like saying men from Enumclaw, Washington let horses fuck them when it was only one man who did that. But, hey, if Greek men do fuck goats and I don't see it then it doesn't exist, right? It's not like they'd marry the goats. Or would they? I hear Greek women are very independent, so maybe the goats are just more complaint when it comes to fulfilling the sexual needs of Greek men. Or it could be carried over from when Ancient Egyptian and Greek priests would have sex with goats (presumably an incarnation of the god of procreation) during in their rituals. In the Middle Ages, the goat became a symbol for the devil and witches on trial were allegedly forced to confess that they had sex with the devil in the form of an animal. Who knew? 

Awwww...one of the Greek Islands...

http://bestsingletravel.com/images/Greece%20Mykonos.jpg

http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Travel/Pix/pictures/2008/03/18/mykonos.jpg 

http://www.ithakabound.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/Greek-goats.jpg 

Bon voyage for now!

Leatherface Next Door

I'm pet- and house-sitting near Seward Park. The house is one block up from Lake Washington and the third story bedroom has a balcony that overlooks the lake and park. I've set up dissertation camp on the balcony, complete with a table, chairs, an SPF 50 beach umbrella, an ice chest (which holds my dissertation-related materials), my laptop, a potted sunflower, and a large cup of vanilla spice tea. I'm preparing for Monday's Ph.D. General Exam aka my dissertation proposal defense. Finally, I know! Hence my advertisement for a Man Friday. As I work on the presentation that I'll deliver to my committee on Monday, I glance up periodically to gaze upon the serene view of the water and park. Motorboats, sailboats, and jet skis zip in and out of my view. I wish I was out there playing, but, alas I need to prepare for Monday. I'm thankful for the umbrella because it's protecting me from the sun - and rain. After a few seconds of gazing, I take a deep breath and calmly return to my presentation. Until...

Vrrrrrrmmmmmmmmm!!!! Vrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!! What the hell is that noise? It sounds like a wood chipper. I envision the scene from Fargo. (If you don't know it, you can view it on YouTube at (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qWFhDvURLg). Ahhh - the joys of being in the suburbs. After what seems like a couple hours of this constant, loud and penetrating noise I envision myself shoving the wood chipper operator head first into said wood chipper. I call my mom to complain, then remind her of the time when I was studying for an important exam and she decided that was the perfect time to rake the rocks in the planter under my bedroom window. We laughed. We discussed the need to control one's environment at times. Fortunately, this isn't one of those times because the wood chipper keeps on chipping. How much wood do these wood chipper people have? Not really annoyed, but more as a procrastination technique to avoid working on my presentation (much like I'm doing now by writing this post), I investigate the source of the noise: it's a power washer. Well, I certainly don't know my noises, now do I? The neighbor across the street is wearing those pants and boots that fishermen wear - but no yellow slicker and he's clearly missing his hook-for-a-hand - and he's power washing the curb. The CURB! I didn't know that some people in Seattle had power washers (tisk tisk for water conservation), and I didn't know that some people had such high standards for their residential curbs. Hummm. I remind myself that life is based on diversity. Finally the faux I Know What You Did Last Summer fisherman power washer finishes his project. Ahhhhh. Serenity. I can hear the distant muttering of boat motors, people laughing, children calling for their mothers. Back to my presentation. Until...

Grrzrrrrrrzzrrzzzzrrrzzzzzzzz! Grrrrzzzzrrrrrrrrzzzrrrr! Apparently Leatherface lives next door. I hope he's using his chainsaw to cut trees and shrubs rather than turning unsuspecting passersby into the main ingredient for the family's chili recipe. Otherwise, it's Seattle Chainsaw Massacre right next door. I didn't have to investigate much, because the noise is coming directly from my left. I look down into the yard below and lo and behold there's a man with a chainsaw. Leatherface asks me if he can come across the property line to finish cutting hedges. So long as you don't scale the balcony and turn me into chili, sure thing! I attribute my accurate noise detection skills to my many viewings of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series. If there was a Power Washer Killer series, I'm sure I would have accurately detected the power washer noise. I only viewed Fargo a few times - you betcha! - so maybe a few more viewings are in order given my lack of distinction between the sounds of a wood chipper and a power washer. So long as Jason, Michael, and Freddy keep their distance today, it's all good. Chhhhhhhhh chhhhhhh chhhhhhhh Ahhhh ahhhhhh ahhhhhh.

I need to write about boys. Soon. But now...back to my presentation.

Post Script: With 100% accuracy, I identified the sound of the Blue Angels as they flew over Lake Washington a mere 2.5 hours after I posted this. This is definitely the day for loud sounds. I wonder what other loud sounds are in store for tonight?

Man Friday

Now accepting applications for a Man Friday.

Duties include preparing meals, packing lunches, grocery shopping, doing laundry, dish washing, vacuuming, cleaning, and generally making my life easier.

Compensation is sketchy.
Inquire within.

Lame Pick Up Line

I went out last Friday night to hear some live surf music at Slim's Last Chance (the same venue from the Leopard Dress post). It was a last minute thing and I felt too blob-like to wear my leopard dress so I wore regular clothes: my favorite faded-and-ready-for-the-donation-bin-but-at-least-it-fits black skirt, a blouse, and flip flops. I forgot my flask, so I ordered a Sailor Jerry and diet coke. For $6.50 I got the tiniest plastic cup ever filled to the rim with ice, a jigger of Sailor Jerry, and a dash of diet coke. Seriously, it was just a tad bigger than a bathroom-size Dixie cup. For $6.50. What a gyp. All the tables and chairs were occupied, but there were two empty stools are the bar. One each for me and my invisible friend; if I had an invisible friend his name would be Augie.

I asked the man to my left if the bar stools were taken. Nope. I promptly planted myself on the stool next to him and sipped my tiny drink. Then he chatted me up. His name was John; he's a regular there. John introduced me to the bartenders and some of his friends who were also regulars. Was I in an episode of Cheers? Did everyone know everyone else's names? John and his friend Mike were pretty lit - or at least they accused each other of being lit but I wouldn't know the difference because this was our first meeting. When he'd point out a person he knew, John kept referring to them as "good people." He's good people. She's good people. Never mind the grammatical error in his speech (or perhaps he can't count), but I'd have been surprised if he said "he's a fucking asshole but I love hanging out with him because he trips people who are blind and beats up puppy dogs." Who would say that? His opinion of his friends and acquaintances was like an eulogy on a feedback loop: good people, good people, good people. By the way, there was a hot man with an amputated leg at the show. He was wearing a shirt with a logo for the armed forces amputee games. At first I thought it was a spoof (like the S & M Hello Kitty shirt my friend has) but then I saw his prosthetic leg and realized he probably participated in the amputee games. How hot is that?

Anyway, John was surprised that I was there to hear music rather than eat chili. To each their own, dude. I was getting bored with the conversation but I blew my conversation exit when the opportunity arose: John apologized for monopolizing my time because he was certain that my husband or boyfriend would be joining me any minute. Nice fishing expedition, buddy. I laughed and explained that I had neither a boyfriend nor a husband. He was surprised and asked why. I replied "because I apparently have difficulty identifying good people." I figured he'd understand my "good people" comment. Then he said "you're in your 20s so you have plenty of time." Yeah, multiply that by two dude. When I told him I was 42 he said "I bet you've been married four times and have a litter of children." Wow - nothing more sexy than cynicism with an air of defeat. I corrected his inaccurate assumption: I've been married twice and have no children. He congratulated me for a job well done. According to him, my not having children was the best thing ever. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. Thankfully the music started and I thought that would silence him. Wrong. I became annoyed. First, I was there to hear the music. Second, I couldn't hear what he was saying and I'm sure whatever he said ended in "good people" anyway. And third, I wasn't interested in this guy. He's a single-serving companion I met at a bar and whom I had no interest in seeing again. Now if I found him attractive or was drawn to him in someway - like the man with the amputated leg - that would have been a different story.

I finally told John that I couldn't hear him and that I wanted to listen to the music anyway, so he tried his best to remain silent until the break. Banzai Surf was great. We chatted a bit during the break, and then towards the end of Aloha Screwdriver's set his friend Mike told me that John was shy and that I would have to be the aggressor in the relationship. Um, what relationship? Then he said that if John didn't get my number, John was an idiot. Was getting my number the only thing that would prevent John from being labeled an idiot? I didn't know him well enough to decide either way. Then I overheard Mike telling John that he better get my number because "she obviously likes you because she sat next to you and talked to you." Wow...that's some deductive reasoning if I ever heard some. Did Mike take into account that the stool on which I sat was one of two seats left in place? Had I sat in the seat further away from John, I would have had beer taps in my face and a guys back at my side. Damn man-logic. Perhaps men would be smarter if they consulted with women before making judgments and assumptions? I'm sure this is true for women too. In any case, Mike teased John about getting my number. Apparently there was a consensus among John's friends about it, because after the music ended I announced I was leaving and John said "all my friends said I should get your number." Wow. Lame pick up line if I ever heard one. If I wasn't already disinterested, asking for my number in such a passive way solidified my disinterest. I explained that I wasn't interested in dating but I gave him my number anyway but he's too shy to call. I wonder what he would say if he does call? "Hi, my friends said I should call you." Think for yourself, man. Sigh. It's amazing the snap judgments we make when we meet people. Even though I remind myself that first impressions aren't everything, they're something. Sometimes you just have to follow your gut's advice. Any my gut's advice says to enjoy the night for what it was, lame pick-up line and all.