Last Days.

I’m sitting in the Emerson computer lab right now, waiting for the first class of my last day of school to start. After today, I’m free! FREE!

I really enjoyed myself this semester. I had some great classes and some crazy people in them. But it’s hard, working and going to school and being pregnant and trying to get ready to move to AZ and the million other things that happened.

It kind of sucks, because I only have one semester left of school, and I won’t be able to come back for at least another year. Maybe in a year, I can move back. I have no idea what will happen, I am not going to worry about it right now I have too many other things to worry about. Everything will work itself out.

But I promise that I will get that Emerson degree if it is the last thing I do.

Tomorrow I leave for Tucson, so that me and my pals can head off to Coachella and enjoy two days of music and camping and fun. Then it’s back to Boston, where I will finish up everything at work, help train the new person, and complete the packing (which is a real pain in the ass if you want to know the truth). And then off to Tucson I go for good, me and all my shit and Gordon in a big old cargo van.

AND THEN, the last four days in May will be spent lounging on the beach with my best gal Marianne, in beautiful san diego. After all this, I deserve myself a nice beachy rest. I shall look smashing, all pale and fat and pregnant on the beach.

RGC

Gordon and I have finally managed to both agree on a name for my baby. I was really fond of Max, but most of the people I talked to disagree with it. I think Max is a great name. Nobody names her kid Max anymore. Max! I just love it.

Gordon wasn’t too thrilled with it, and since his sperm played a key role in all of this, I figured I better keep looking. We came across the name Ryland in the baby name book. Ryland! I liked it immediately and the more I let it sit, the more I love it. Ryland. It is such a cool name. It’s different but not crazy weird. And I have all sorts of cute nicknames already: Rye, Ryer, Ryerson, etc. Isn’t it fabulous?

My friend Marianne suggested I keep the name to myself, because everyone has an opinion. She's right. Everyone has a million suggestions and hates what I like and likes what I hate. In the end, it really comes down to what I (and Gordon too but mostly me) like and what feels like a good match for my baby. Right now, it feels like there?s a cute little Ryer Ryerson in me.

His r.y.l.a.n.d. g.a.l.i.l.e.o.

It’s very hard, this baby naming business.

You know, loafe, this whole pregnancy thing has really changed me. Not in some sort of crazy obvious way (well, besides the big belly and stuff) but in little, subtle ways, like how I view the world and myself. Before the pregnancy, I wasn?t all that thrilled about very much. I was generally okay with things, just not super excited about my life. I was plodding ahead because that's what you do. Having a kid was the last thing on my mind. In fact, the entire idea of having a baby was so completely foreign and wrong to me I was convinced a baby would only make my life even worse.

Then I got pregnant. At first, it was so shocking and upsetting. I fretted and worried and stressed. I kept saying, “I am not ready for a baby! I don’t like kids1 I wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant! I am not ready for a baby!” I was confused and scared and reluctant to go ahead with it.

But now...well, it’s only been three months since I found out but I can’t possibly imagine my life any other way. I can’t remember what it felt like to not be pregnant. Those feelings of reluctance and doubt are gone. I can’t believe I even had them. If I could choose, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t do it any other way. Imagining what my life would be like right now if I weren’t having a baby depresses me. A Christa sans baby makes me v. sad. That old life was easier and more carefree, but it seems so silly to me now, so unimportant and pointless. And now I feel excited. I feel happy. My life, my actions, my world...it all finally has meaning.

I wouldn’t want it any other way. It feels so right and so natural. Like this is exactly what I should be doing. And I gotta tell you, loafe, that has to be the greatest feeling in the world. Because of all the places I’ve been and all the things I’ve done, nothing compares, nothing has ever made me feel so complete and just so...content. And that contentedness proves to me that I will be a good mother. I’m not worried anymore.

Interviews and Resumes.

So I am in the process right now of looking through resumes and finding good candidates to interview for my position once I leave. I am having fun, although I feel really bad for all these computer people out of work. I want to give them all jobs! I am not looking forward to interviews though. I don’t like that sort of thing.

I sure hope they don’t like the new guy better than me! Not that it matters I guess, I just want to be well liked. But watch, the new person will come in and be smarter and better at my job than I ever was and everyone will love him and they will say “thank god we got rid of Christa!”

only one week of school left! WOOHOO! I like school I really do, but after awhile it gets to be a bit of a drag.

So I’ve been a pretty big grumpasaurus rex the past few days. First because I found out Wilco canceled its tour dates for Tucson and Coachella, which means I won’t be seeing them. Stupid Jeff Tweedy. And second, fucking Boston blew it big time in the hockey playoffs. Even though Montreal won the series, they are still a rotten dirty team who deserves to be sunk in the ocean. Boston beat themselves, Montreal had nothing to do with it. And I’m convinced there is no justice in hockey, because if there were, despite the bad play of Boston, The B’s would have won. And Ottawa would have kicked the tar out of lousy Toronto.

Haha, earlier today I saw two posts from Montreal fans on the comments section, and I deleted those comments because I have the power and the control and they do not. HAHA. But if you had read those posts, you would have laughed. They had misspellings galore and all those shortened Internet abbreviations I so abhor and bad punctuation and lots of words like “you are a faggot, you stupid American, stick with your baseball!” (only not spelled correctly or worded so well) It made me laugh, and then I deleted their comments and laughed some more. HAHA, stupid canadians.

grrrrr.

fucking jeff tweedy and goddamned DRUG PROBLEM.

you’ve ruined everything, Jeff. THANKS A LOT.

Here's a little news for ya.

One of the things about having a web site such as mine is that some of the readers, who are in fact complete strangers, think they know me and what I’m about. As personal as I am on this site, the christa you see on loafe is just a small part of the entire package that is christa. There are very few people know the whole me and those who do—well, they all know who they are. The rest of the world is just background characters to me, extras in a movie scene.

Hmm.

So I realized something tonight sitting in class. Although I was a bit disappointed when I found out I wasn’t having a girl, it is actually a good thing. That way I wouldn't try to heal my wounds through her. Because in my warped mind, I would’t be raising my daughter, I’d be raising Christa. No good could come of that.

It's a beautiful thing.

Poetic justice, my friends. That is what game 4 was all about in Montreal Tues. night. The Canadiens should be embarrassed to call themselves a professional hockey team and you know what? They get exactly what they deserve.

You cry wolf over and over again and it’ll come back to bite you in the ass every single time.

Kovalev should hold his head in shame, not only for costing his team the game but for having the gall to put ICE on his “injured” wrist later. Both him and Ribeiro should win some sort Emmy award this year for acting.

It was the most satisfying thing in the world to see the Bruins win that game.

Thursday night, Game 5, back in Boston. Time to say goodbye to these French-Canadien yahoos. Thanks for the memories, see ya next year!

Screw off, Montreal!

I’ve been to the city of Montreal only once in my entire life but I loved it there. It was all frenchy and canadian, the people were genuinely nice and some of the men were so unbelievably sexy and cute, I could have died. It felt like a less obnoxious mini-Paris (not that I’ve ever been).

But there are two things about Montreal hockey that are bugging me right now.

First, big fat crying phony fakers who pretend to be seriously hurt during a major scoring chance for the B’s, and writhe around on the ice in some sort of uncontrollable fit, only to get up a few minutes later and skate idly to the bench, laughing and taunting the other Bruins players. If that stupid fuck was truly injured, then I am the goddamned second coming of christ.

The second thing I don’t like: lousy obnoxious Canadiens fans who boo during the American national anthem. Sure, the US does some boneheaded things, but hockey and the players have nothing to do with that and booing just isn’t cool. BY THE WAY YOU STUPID CANADIENS—an American businessman owns your stupid effing team, so shove it.

Okay, now that is out of the way, I can assure you of a Boston win tonight.

Next order of business: every day on the boston globe web site they feature a particular person’s personal ad. Today’s ad for one Miss Raibraeder reads: “Song or album that puts me in the mood: ‘John Mayer makes me melt. I also love Tim McGraw’s ballads, Garth Brooks and Josh Groban’.”

This lady makes me want to kill myself right now.

And in baby news, I have started to feel the baby move. Nothing major yet, he is still too small to really make powerful movements, but I’m getting little tiny flutterings and waves, like he’s in there doing somersaults and jumping jacks. It sort of radiates from my belly, like butterflies in my stomach, just different. It gives me this rush throughout my whole body. The first night it happened, I was mad at Gordon and being all bitchy. Then the baby moved and I just died. I laid there in bed with my hands on my stomach, grinning like a maniac.

game 1 vs Habs cont'd

Go Bruins! One game down, three more to go!

Last night’s game made me the happiest girl in Boston. It made you happy too, I can tell.

After four years of working at my job, I finally get business cards. Of course this happens now, because at the end of the month I’m leaving. It makes perfect sense. Because that, my friends, is how things work in my life.

Not that these business cards are all that great. I didn’t design them so they have stupid alignment and weird proximity and just don’t look as cool as I would have made them. But whatever.

My official title is Director of Ideas and Information. I made it up. Don’t you just love it.

game 1 vs. Habs

Go Bruins!

Only four games to go!!

good old boston.

I am really going to miss Boston when I leave. I love this city, bad weather and all.

Loafe kisses you Boston, even in the dirty spots.

I was thinking maybe I should name my baby Boston, in honor of the city and the place he was conceived. I think it’s not such a bad idea.

Wed. April 7th.

Just in case you all were unaware, playoff hockey starts on April 7th. I urge you all to watch because I guarantee it will be a crazy crazy time and who knows what will be happening next year. We’re not talking about regular old hockey here, we’re talking PLAYOFF HOCKEY and there’s nothing better than that folks. NOTHING.

ooohhooh!! I forgot to tell you! I saw Dawn of the Dead in the theater. MAN OH MAN. It is my new favoritest movie. It ate my brains and then spit them back up and ate ’em again. I keep thinking about that movie and dreaming about it and honestly, I would like to know exactly what kind of plan our government has should zombies overtake us. The NSA really should be working on this. Yes yes, terrorism is important, but really, I think the top thing on our agenda should be zombies. Terrorists can be dealt with, but zombies...well, have you SEEN the movie? We really need something in place. Something real and concrete. These zombies are crazy mo-fos. I myself have been working on a plan, should zombies come along. I’m not gonna tell you though, jesus! I don’t want my plans being all messed up because of a bunch of morons. I won’t be food for zombies, no way no sir!

Come See What's Brewin'

I’ve noticed an interesting and surprising trend lately. I’m seeing a lot of kids walking around wearing Milwaukee Brewer hats, with the old logo, the one that I’ll always love. Sure, they can change the logo, the uniforms, and even the stadium, but forever in my mind, the Brew Crew will always be about that blue and yellow mb baseball glove, playing in County Stadium.

So it’s interesting to me to see these hats. I find it both pleasing and disconcerting. It brings back a lot of memories for me personally, memories I am sure most of those kids don’t have, but I love to see any support for the Brewers, no matter how trendy.

My mom took me to meet a few of those ball players, when I was kid. I had the biggest crush on Ben Oglivie, he scared me and thrilled me all at once. I remember being absolutely fascinated with him, reveling in how black he was and how very white his teeth seemed. He smiled at me and shook my hand and signed my little program book. I can’t remember what year it was though, it had to be ’81, I remember Robin Yount and Cecil Cooper and Paul Moliter and Pete Vuckovich and Rollie Fingers, crazy old Rollie Fingers, and of course Jim Gantner.

When I get back to Tucson, I should go digging for that program book. I know it’s somewhere. I got quite a few signatures on it. That’s what happens when you’re a cute 6-year-old girl asking ball players for autographs.

It doesn’t look like I lost all my memories after all. Although I’m probably not remembering everything right.

It must be me.

Is it me or does it seem weird to anyone else that Bush calls himself a war president? Coming into office and creating a war and then calling yourself a war president? What the hell is that? And since when is a war the greatest thing a president could ever do? He orchestrated that war and now he stands on top of it as if it’s the most momentous victory in all of history, pounding his chest and shouting, “Look at all the good I did! I am a war president; I led our country through war! I am the greatest man to ever live! Give me more campaign money!”

I read that Bush has not attended the funeral of any personnel killed in Iraq. Which seems maybe in direct opposition with all of his spouting but at the same time, you know that if he DID attend any funerals, he would make it the biggest media spectacle this side of Hollywood, so in a way it’s good, because really, a funeral is just not the time for a photo-op. I wonder how his spin doctors will handle this latest rash of killings and the images of charred Americans and cheering crowds. I am sure he’ll work into his election campaign somehow. As I am sure Kerry will work it into his.