Domestic Abuse and Arielle

So.

It's um, not a good time right now folks. Academically speaking, I have the biggest requirement of graduating due in a little more than two weeks. Professionally speaking, I'm on the hunt for a job which is not appearing which is probably because I'm not really hunting, I'm more bemoaning the lack of one. Socially speaking, I've been sick, and as you'll read tomorrow some shit went down with Grad School BF (not between me and GSBF, just... not goodness) and so all in all it's be a really fucking crappy time.

I'm sorry I haven't been around.

But I hope this makes up for it! Inappropriate domestic violence jokes!

Before I go on, um, if you've ever been the victim of, the friend or family member of a victim, the child of a relationship, or whatever, domestic abuse occurring, I just want you to know that I really REALLY don't take this lightly. And while I might crack a few jokes, it's because I laughed in this one situation. Not because it would be at all funny if it happened in a nonsporadic way. Or if it "happened" with "quotation marks" like "I fell into a wall".

Sad.

But so my boyfriend has a problem. He's bigger than I am, and strong, and sometimes in the middle of the night he punches me in the face.

Yes. You read that correctly.

Sometimes it's with his elbow. Sometimes it's with an open hand. And one time, he full on, fist in my eye, whacked me. Not hard, mind you.

But enough to wake me up.

In fact, most of times I wake up and that's it. Only once did it ever hurt, and that was because his elbow and my nose got into a fight. I screamed that time, and HE woke up, and about 30 seconds later the pain went away and I had a very contrite servant who got me nice glasses of water until I went to sleep. The problem is though, that I always wake up - I mean, there's a big old HAND in my face - and he stays asleep.

Fast asleep.

And I'm sitting there, a little peeved and very inclined to slap him back, but I don't. Well, most of the time. Sometimes I poke him to be like "hey you just hit me" and he'll sleepily be like "I love you baby?" and not even wake up. Sometimes I poke him until he wakes up, at which point he's annoyed, and then I get to be the one who's sleeping while the other one is angrily pouting at the other.

And then there was the time he shoved me off the bed.

To be fair, this wasn't my first time falling off the bed since I was a child. It's happened about four times total since I was 11. But this time it was 75% his fault, because he was slowly inching me off the bed. At 2am I had 2 ft. At 3am I had 6 inches. And at 4am, he rolled over, and I rolled off.

And that was enough.

I stalked over to the lights, turned them on, and then went over to him and shouted "HEY ASSHOLE, I SLEEP HERE TOO, GET IT?! THAT'S WHY YOU GET TO HAVE SEX WITH ME!! AND YOU BREAK ME, YOU BUY ME!!!"

He was not pleased.

But after that night, he's calmed down. I think that's because the buzzing in his ear keeps him up, but whatever. Now, you all (including Arielle) be asking, "but what does this have to do with Arielle (me)?"

And I'll tell you.

A few weeks ago en route to Canada, Arielle and her boyfriend put me and GSBF up for the night, and were super gracious hosts. However, at some point during our evening together, Arielle and I were shouting at each other "YES! YES!! I KNOW!! JERKS!!" about the men in the room. Because apparently? Arielle's boyfriend sleep punches her too!!

Sigh.

And it is with this incredibly lovely introduction that I'd like to direct you all to Arielle's new blog. It's going to be FABULOUS. And just think about all the sleep abuse you can hear about! And think even more - you won't have to hear about my academic, professional and social problems while you read her blog - woohoo!

For now - stay safe. And go read Arielle's blog!

Things I learned in the Great White North

So.

We stopped at my parents' house this weekend and they didn't have power (in fact - New Jersey was kind of destroyed by the storm. Trees on their street that have been standing for over 15 years, through the blizzards of '94 and '96 (the former was really an ice storm), Hurricane Floyd etc etc got knocked down, power was out in an area that never loses power for over 24 hours and flooding backed up the 287 entrance onto the NY Thruway for over 10 miles. Yeah, there's no climate change, of course not) so I've been gone longer than I had hoped.

Also, I digressed a little longer than I expected.

The point is, I'm BACK in the District baby, currently ensconced in my bed (yes it is 12pm. What?) and facing down the barrel of some serious schoolwork before I graduate in May. Apparently after 15 years of primary education, 4 years of college and almost 2 full years as a grad student, I've learned absofuckinglutely nothing about doing my work in advance. In fact, maybe I've learned absofuckinglutely nothing, period. I'm kind of terrified about my future, so terrified that I think the rock of stress has permanently calcified in my stomach. So instead of talking about THAT right now, let's turn to stuff I HAVE learned. Apparently a road trip in chockerbock full of learning opportunities, though being the fantastic student I am, it's shocking anything stuck. But it did! So below:

Shit I learned in Canada (and surrounding environs)

• There are a hell of a lot of Arabs in Canada. And since this past week my boyfriend was one of them, and I was not, there was a hell of a lot of ArabIC in Canada, and I picked up a few choice phrases. Did you know if you say "key fuck" it means "what's up?" But it has to be to a boy. Which seems a little wrong, if you ask me.
• I can snowboard! Backwards. A few weeks ago was my first time on the slopes (any slopes that weren't in my backyard with a snowtube) and it was terrible. But on my break I got back up, and I'm not bad! I'm not GOOD! But I'm not as terrible as I was. Except I can only go down the hill backwards, which I think is probably not good for my future. In fact, maybe my snowboarding is a nice little metaphor for my future, which we are not discussing right now.
• I am an ugly American. I mean, really ugly. It's weird, because I thought that growing up all immigranty and in the highly diverse northern NJ region would have made me very cosmopolitan. In fact, when I was living in Italy I blended in so well that any single day had people asking if I was Romanian, Armenian, British, Irish, Norweigan, and once, from a very confused young man, Spanish. Never American! But all last week I was snide about Canada and about being from the US in general. I think it showed, because when we crossed back into the US the very angry looking crewcut sporting borders agent just let me right through without even a second glance at my Arab boyfriend. Well give me Glenn Beck and apple pie, je suis une Americaine FEA!
• Ok I still got it. Whew.
• Sometimes people really do want to see baby pictures of you. Grad School BF sat with my mom for a half hour on Sunday pouring over my baby album. I mean, legitimately asking questions. And following up with me about them. My jaded facade is cracking friends.
• What else? Oh yes. There is a lot more pot in Montreal than even in northern NJ. I do not smoke pot, but the stench of my clothes would suggest otherwise. Ew.

I am not the blogger I once was. I know you all knew that, but in the old days I wrote down everything so that I'd remember it later. I had things to discuss about underground malls and Lebanese food, but they are gone.

I blame Canada?

Or maybe also along with my future, my memory is shot. But let's just say that apparently aboveground malls are just as windowless as underground ones, because I didn't notice a difference, and also, Lebanese food rocks. Like, a lot. Um, yes.

Is it ok if I go back to bed now?

I'll be back tomorrow friends talking about domestic abuse, but in a completely funny and not appropriate way. Woot! For now, I'll pretend that we're flooded too. Oooh! Nooo! There goes the powe....

Oh Canada

So.

I’ve had my spring break in Canada for the past week, which is why (this time) I’m MIA – my internet sources have been spotty. However, today it looks like I’ve got it so I’m posting! Woohoooooo.

Now.

Say what you want about Canada, my vacation has been for the most part incredibly vacating. Grad School BF and I have never been better (which is you know, pretty fucking impressive since we’ve been together 24/7 for days on end. I mean seriously, we now go to the bathroom in pairs because we can’t be detached. Ok that’s a lie – also, gross), it’s not as cold as everyone said it was, and the people really are quite nice! But I have a few observations that need to be shared. So!

MA’s Thoughts on the Great White North

• Why Canada, did you fucking use the metric system? Sure sure, everyone’s response (including GSBF’s, who is not an American) is, “why do Americans use miles and shit.” But you know what? Everyone else lives on a DIFFERENT continent. C’mon Canada, we’re huge, we make good movies that you people star in, we have better beer than you do. Back us up on this one.
• In a related point – no free refills? COME ON! Don’t go all European on us. We should be fat slobs TOGETHER Canada!! I mean, I’m ok with being European when it comes to tipping, but not when it comes to my second glass of DC or the GSBF’s second cup of coffee.
• I’ve been solely in Quebec (or shall I say seulement) and let me tell you. Canandians try to pretend that all Quebecquois are perfectly bilingual (I’ve heard the phrase 95% are 100% a LOT) but it is not true. No no. Sure, most places in Montreal speak 2 languages (and actually, since it’s HUGELY and awesomely diverse, more like 3 or 4 languages) but the rest of Quebec? Non. Yesterday I stared at a woman trying to remember the question for “do you have” or “is there” and finally was able to ask (in a TERRIBLE accent, ehem) “il y a diet coke? Parce je le voudrais.” Yeah. It’s been about 6 years since I was in a French class. And I didn’t even get a refill for effort.
• Um – Casino de Montreal? Two words. Free booze. That is how the casinos stateside do so well – we’re all too drunk to care about losing money. I made money on your ass and I would have made a lot more if it hadn’t been late and my good luck charm (aka Old Quebecquois Man) had to go. Granted – I make money at US casinos too (seriously. Craps ROCK) but I’m definitely more risky when I’m all liquored up.
• Yo. Your bikers are totally New York pedestrians on wheels. As a biker and a pedestrian, I’m certainly not immune to making a few stupid decisions when it comes to biking and walking in front of cars. I like to say that on my bike I follow the rules of the road (you know, lights and shit) unless they aren’t convenient. But bikers in Montreal either have MASSIVE balls, or MASSIVE lobotomies. Honestly. I have almost hit at least fourteen of them.
• Speaking of cars, dudes, get some better parking deals. Or at least, hotels, start creating more underground parking. I mean you people in Montreal have an entire mall that beats the Willowbrook, Wayne, Short Hills, Rockaway AND Bridgewater malls combined. You can’t put a few parking spaces down there? You REALLY need me to get up every morning (and by me, I mean my boyfriend) to go move our car? Honestly.
• Canadians are entirely too trendy. Maybe this is more a commentary on DC, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this embarrassed about my wardrobe. I’m coming back to the states with a suitcase full of leggings and new boots. (Sigh. I wish.)
• Lastly – they really are as nice as they say. Even when I’m speaking terrible French, glaring at my receipt with “Diet Pepsi – deux,” almost hitting them/their friends, and tramping around their streets in jeans from 2006, they have been nothing but utterly pleasant. Having strange accents, making me pay too much for my car, and not giving me free booze – but just so nice I almost don’t care. Almost. Ok, a free vodka sour really would help. Just fyi.

Since I have had access, more demain on our trip and then hopefully Friday and DEFINITELY Saturday (I will be avec mon internet again starting Friday!!). Until then – au revoir mes amis. I’m going to go find myself a diet coke dispenser.

I'm cheating on my boyfriend with my blackberry

So.

Obviously, constant posting wasn't meant to last. Sigh. Back to regular posting, which means mostly Mon-Sat without a Wednesday and rando comments when I have rando thoughts.

So... all the time.

Anyway! Grad School BF and I are in a fight. Well that's a lie. Right now we're sitting on comfy chairs at school drinking warm beverages with matchy laptop poses like a cutsy grad school couple.

Aw.

But while we were walking here this morning, and I was getting my panties in a (literal and figurative) twist about how hot it was outside and how my backpack was giving me back heat and we should have just biked in, he got this hurtish look on his face and said something along the lines of "but I like it when we walk. It's the only time we talk anymore."

Now - we live together, mind you. So we CHAT.

But apparently, GSBF is 100% fed up with me being on my blackberry. Which apparently I always am on buses (and other forms of public transpo). When we're home, he accuses, I am reading the nytimes.com, checking my email, or blogging.

You all know that last one is only vaguely true.

The point, he says, is that I'm too into my electronic devices that the only time we get to have Deep Meaningful Conversations is when we're walking places. And not like, to the metro. We're talking the kind of 40 minute commuter walks we occasionally partake in.

I mean, how adorable is that?

I LOVE DMCs, and the fact that he misses them when we don't have them is almost enough to put the BB away. Almost. I really really REALLY love my email too. But there has to be a happy balance, right? For those of you out there having had these problems - what do you do? How do you handle relationships with people rather than technology? And is YOUR GSBF as cute as mine?

Just kidding.

Mostly.