back to reality...almost

coming home from my six week caribbean adventure was a bit of a jolt. i understand that nothing would really have made it easier, except perhaps some sort of insider tip that my crush-du-jour was waiting impatiently for my return. in reality, crush-du-jour (cdj?) may or may not know my name and has probably found some impossibly skinny, broody asian girl to date by now.
it didn't help that my return to the mainland marked the abrupt end of an extravagant, 3-week drinking binge which transitioned itself rather unpleasantly to a smoldering but miserable hangover on the plane.
it also didn't help to find my apartment still occupied by my now arch-nemesis house-sitter who drank all my liquor and killed all my plants... but that's a story for another day.

as one might have expected, i showed up to work the morning after my return pretty darned tired and cranky. that said, i think i came back with a sense of well-being and optimism that i most certainly did not possess in february. maybe it was the sunshine, or the rum, or the snorkeling... or maybe it's just the tan. my blogmate has been trying to tell me for years that a great tan makes everything better, and now i wholeheartedly agree. for one, it just screams, "ha ha, i went to the st. lucia while you were stuck here festering in the dregs of chicago winter," but it also exudes an ill-defined yet strangely powerful aura of fabulousness.

unfortunately, the new, glam, hi-lighted persona that i've confabulated doesn't integrate very well with the alter-ego i couldn't help but develop (over the last year, really) under the effect of nick hornby novels, the OC soundtracks, john cusack movies, "the time traveler's wife," steven frears movies, and now "sex, drugs and cocoa puffs." somewhere in there i think i failed to recognize that i don't get to be a cool hipster swing-chick, no matter how many movies and books i absorb about punk, sarcastic, witty, drinking, smoking hipsters.

i've almost got it together.