a method in this madness

My OCD's back.
Despite my crazy [see: Asian ethnicity, astrological sign, and gender], unorganized mess is currently taking over my life. And because of my crazy [see: Asian ethnicity, astrological sign, and gender], I'm convinced I'll always remember where things are and which hat I owe to whomever, even though history has consistently proven me wrong.
It doesn't help that you people have similar names or even the same first name! Yes, I am blaming you all for my disorganized mess of a desk and lack of any structured system to keep tabs on what I need to do for whom, because, hello, how can anything be my fault [see: my gender]?
Okay that was a total lie [see: my gender]. I finally did get some sort of system together last night. It's rudimentary but it works. As pretty as excel spreadsheets are, I need to be able to draw and write stuff out, and this way I can easily deprioritize people [just kidding!].

I also did some solid sweatshop labor last night and got some linings done. They even got labeled so I know I won't forget who they're for, and where they're going. I mean, I'm convinced that I won't forget even if I didn't label them, but you know, just in case [see: Asian propensity to be overly-prepared winning out over female convictions of always being right].

As a result, my OCD's feeling a little bit better. Although, let's be honest, my list of names on index cards is going to bother me until it's actually gone. Like it's already bothering me in that toe-curling-I-need-to-get-my-work-done-so-I-can-work-on-hats-so-I-can-clean-up-that-list-of-names kind of way.
Did I mention I have the crazy?

bailout package

I know I said that Valentine's Day doesn't mean much to me - and it really doesn't.
But it's a great excuse to go out and buy something you've sort of fallen for. I won't say "fallen in love with" though, because that requires a certain amount of time and care. Buying something on Valentine's Day is mostly for that high that instant gratification gives you; you just have to hope it lasts you until February 15th.

My last Valentine's Day purchase was a pair of black, pointy-toed, stiletto shoes one year in college. They're predictably impractical and the thought of dancing, drinking, and bar-hopping-induced blisters still makes me cringe, despite the fact that they're plenty broken in. Still, I don't regret buying them, and they've given me more than a simple 24-hour shopper's high.
Since then, though, I could never justify a Valentine's Day purchase precisely because it was only to make myself feel better for a few hours about a silly "holiday." Valentine's Day, and all the glittery, red, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates that come with it, wins if you have to spend your money to make yourself feel better due to supposedly miserable single-dom. Valentine's Day could not win.

...Until yesterday. For what it's worth, I was planning this for a while, and it just so happened that my intended date of purchase [I was hoping mid-January] ran into this month. Okay, I admit that I did sort of figure it'll make Valentine's Day a little more significant this year...but it really wasn't for any kind of instant gratification.
Besides, I'm not actually going to be able to see or touch whatever I purchased until later this week, at the earliest. And this really wasn't a totally spontaneous decision either; I'm pretty sure this is going to last me a few solid years, and it's not nearly as impractical as those stilettos.
Although, uncharacteristically, I am anticipating [just a little, tiny bit] falling in love.

heartbreaker...contest!

It's Valentine's Day!!!
The above statement actually means nothing to me, but I figure I should just put it out there. Okay, that's not entirely true; I did give out kisses [chocolate ones, only!] to my favorite bike mechanics.
Having thrown my chain twice in the past 24 hours, I hustled to IBC today to pick up that new pink chain, and possibly a new chainring. Chris worked on my bike again, mentioning how he had changed the chainring bolts a few days ago:
Chris: They were too long for the chainring so her chainring was wobbling.
Me: Yeah there was a chain guard on there earlier. But I didn't put that chainring on...but...yeah...
Eric: But someone did.
Me: ...yeah....
Me and Eric: .......
Eric: ....that was such a classic "my boyfriend knows so much about bikes" moment.
So true. And so appropriate on Valentine's Day. So maybe this might be appropriate too:

I'm actually going to give this away. That's right. Free. Shipping included in the word "free."
What do you have to do? Well, send me your best bike-related Valentine's Day story. Or the craziest bike-related thing you've done for someone that you <3. You'll obviously have to be okay with your entry - if it wins - being posted on this site, but other than that, all you have to do is send in your story!

The deadline is February 28th. Yup, you have until the end of the month. So get emailing!
In terms of logistics, you might notice that the hat isn't 100% done. That's because I will resize it if you don't have a huge head. It's made right now to fit people with larger heads [about 24 inches around] so mostly everyone can submit a story and not have to worry about the hat not fitting.

Good luck!

throwing chains

Dear Old Woman in the White Sedan,
I understand you're old and there's not much in life to make you happy anymore. I also understand your time behind that steering wheel is extremely limited, and that you'd rather drive over people than consider slowing down.
But when I throw my chain, and skid to a startled stop because I have no idea what just happened, don't nearly run me over because you were tailgating me.

It also makes you look like a giant bitch when you stop there, honking your horn, when you could easily back up and drive around me. Okay, maybe you couldn't back up because your fender was touching my rear wheel and there was a car behind you. But honking at me just motivates me to flip you the bird, especially when I'm only occupying about 2ft of the side of the road.
If it gives you any satisfaction though, you scared the shit out of me when I felt your fender pushing my bike. You should also have been scared. Mostly because you might have killed me. But I'm sure you couldn't really give a shit.
Thanks again, for being an inconsiderate bitch! I hope you burn in hell!
Love, Me

surprises

I just got home.
Annnddd I'm still a little bit tipsy.
I know, it's actually surprising because I never drink during the week. Or rarely. It's been a long week though - and I know, it's not even over yet. But, today was more than just looking forward to Friday to look forward to the weekend. Surprise, surprise.
Stressed out and not being able to look at any more tax law [we've had consecutive make-up classes two weeks in a row so it feels like I have that class every...single...day], I took off after Evidence to a small coffee shop/cafe/pie bakery appropriately called Pie Bakery and Cafe in Newton Centre.

It was pretty empty, but as I sat down, I realized the last time I had been here was about six months ago. Almost exactly. I was sitting across from a friend, biting back the temptation to bawl my eyes out in public as I tried to explain to a friend why exactly I had been dumped the day before [hey, he was the one that was asking...out of concern, mind you, but I couldn't exactly answer the question in any kind of logical, rational way].
As depressing memories came back to me, I noticed I had voice mail [I don't get reception at school so I was late noticing it]. Turns out, it was my therapist/prince in shining armor/favorite bike shop calling me about my pink chain - it's in the Brighton store, ready to be picked up!
My mood definitely on the better side, I headed to the liquor store. Yes, I understand that makes me sound like a crazy drunk. But I was picking up a case of beer for a friend; we had journal elections today and we were going to do our utmost to get trashed while voting for each other. I discovered, much to my delight, that a whole case of Harpoon beer [the sampler pack] will fit into my small Baileyworks bag. With an Evidence book in it. Baller.

I came home to find another surprise waiting for me too. But that's for tomorrow. I'm worn out after the voting, the pizza, the beer, and even giving a short speech that essentially said "vote for me for this position." I got it. I'm happy. The ride home was fast and warm.
I'm starting to like surprises.

judging appearances

Sorry, but I don't believe that people don't judge appearances. At least to some extent.
Like a messy apartment. Don't try to tell me that a filthy living situation isn't being mentally assessed the first time you see it. Maybe, unlike me, your mind isn't racing, trying to find a way to get out of said disgusting apartment, but let's be honest, you're still judging.
One reason why I will frantically clean up my apartment if anyone is going to even just stop by.
Unfortunately this hasn't really been translating to my bike. I've been the worst bike mom recently. So bad, that I've found myself in uncomfortably embarrassing situations where I take my bike in to be looked at and end up muttering some apology about how I meant to clean it before coming into the shop, while the mechanic reaches for a rag.
Yeah, I bet he's judging. I would.

I managed, last night, to chip away the crusty salt-dirt-water mixture that was caked on my downtube though. My rims got wiped down and I also realized that my rear hub is actually a shiny silver, not some gray/matte silver color. The chain got lubed and my tires pumped; those usually get done, but it doesn't really do much to improve the general messy appearance of my bike.
As always, I ended up with grease-stained hands, wrists, and arms. Soap only does so much, which means I get to appreciate exactly how manishly dirty my hands look as I finished the rest of my tea.

I've come to the conclusion that bike grease just isn't swoon-worthy or even endearing on a girl. Or at least not on this one. And, even though I know you're going to [because I totally would], don't judge, okay?
[Edit: it's gorgeous out today. Get out and ride!]