The Lockeness Monster

640 days

2009-09-01T17:49:00.000-07:00

The memories are all I have now, and they follow me everywhere.

Like a child desperate for attention, they clamor and cling.

It's impossible for them not to. I now live in your city, without you.

You are everywhere I look- in the skyline, the coffee shop, the bike locked up outside of my apartment building.

I feel you in the air, and tattooed into my skin.

I go to work. I answer emails and phone calls.

I eat lunch and make small talk.

I smile and pretend to know what I'm doing.

I go into a bathroom stall and cry.

At home, the pillow draws a dividing line down my bed.

Do not cross, it tells me- There is nothing left for you on this side.

The emptiness keeps me from sleep, and the silence deafens me.

Pain spills from my eyes, and rips ragged breaths from my chest.

I miss the sound of you breathing, and falling asleep intertwined.

I miss your hand in mine, and the click of shared footsteps on the pavement.

I miss the life we had, and mourn for the one that will never get to be.

I have fallen spectacularly apart.

It will get better, they say.

I believe them until we disconnect our call.

I am alone, and it has never felt worse.

Be careful what you wish for.

I want you to know that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you didn't feel how much I loved you.

I'm sorry that I hurt you, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

I'm sorry that I couldn't make it work, it was all I ever wanted to do.

I know how hard you tried, and how hard you loved.

You couldn't have done any better.

I want you to know that I love you and that I miss you, and that I tried hard too.

You occupy my thoughts constantly.

Listening to the radio is impossible, walking the city is too painful.

I want to call you when I see an Agatha Christie novel in a used bookstore, or when I make chicken pot pie.

I want to go to Sabrina's with you for brunch, and laugh at silly movie quotes.

I want to wake up in your bed to the sounds of vinyl spinning downstairs on a rainy morning.

I want the life we were supposed to have.

"What will you do about Philly?" you asked before you left.

"I haven't gotten that far yet," I replied.

"...first, I have to try and figure out what my life is supposed to be now."

Groundhog Day

2008-12-04T06:38:00.000-08:00

So after my (second to) last post about how I'm back to blogging, I clearly lied.

Things have been interesting, to say the least.

For those illustrious few who don't know me in real life- things are on the move.

After 5 years of residing in the ever glamorous and soul crushing NYC, I have moved out.

Since the boy lives in Philadelphia and is quite happy there, and I was in NYC and quite not, I have decided to make the big move for the big L and go there.

But I can't go just yet.

See, I've been interviewing for jobs there since, well, July.

And still have nothing.

There have been teases- flirty companies who take me out to lunch and call me back.

Then, nothing.

Now they are waiting for the new year to make a decision, due to something like a recession?

Excuses, excuses.

That is frustrating in and of itself, but to add a bit of fun, my lease was up December 1st.

So I had to move back in with my parents on Long Island.

It has been trying at best, and it's only been a week.

I suddenly find myself commuting again, getting up at ungodly hours and arriving at work exhausted from already being awake for three hours.

I find myself running for trains through throngs of Bridge & Tunnel commuters. Which I am once again a member of.

I have to call home and check in, to let my parents know that my train is late.

I feel like I've regressed back to my 22 year old self, and I don't like it.

After living on my own for a number of years, going back to my parents house doesn't feel like home anymore.

I don't have my things set up, I have to keep the TV low if they're sleeping, my mother looks over my shoulder when I use the computer.

I feel like this move has erased the last 5 years of my life, and I'm having a hard time identifying myself anymore.

I'm not someone who is good with change, I never have been.

The slightest adjustment takes me days or weeks to get used to.

Rearranging my entire life is incomprehensible right now.

I feel especially stuck because I can't look for an apartment or put in my notice at work until I secure employment in Philly. And with the economy the way it is, and the industry being very small there, I don't know when that's going to be.

I haven't even begun to process what moving is going to be like.

Of course I'm excited to be with the boy in the same city, and have a "real" relationship after a year of long distance.

But I'm also scared to leave my job, my friends, my city and my family.

I feel like I'm treading water right now, just staying afloat.

If I hold my breath and go under the surface to explore what's there, I feel like I'm suffocating.

My toes are frantically searching for a ground that I can't find.

I know that it will all work itself out eventually, but patience is a virtue that I do not possess.

Ode to a Wang

2008-10-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

Snippet of conversation between the boy and I the other night:

Me: "I can't think of any good blog fodder lately."

Him: "You could write about my wang?"

Me: "I'll call it 'Ode to a Wang!'"

Him: "Well, you could use a different name for it, so that no one would know what you're talking about except me!"

Me: "Like 'Princess Sophia??'"*

Him: "......"

Me: "Lady Twinklepants?!'"

(Cue maniac laughter from me.)

Him: "You have made me very sad in my pants."

Ahh love.

*I realize that I stole this from a Kate Hudson movie but whatevs. It's funny.

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

2008-10-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

Well, probably not.

I've been away from the blog-o-verse for a few months now, and I've missed it.

Have you, my three faithful readers?

No? Well, then.

I would like to thank Not Lisa for bringing me back and introducing me to her writing, which I have thoroughly enjoyed.

So!

To start stretching my blogging muscles again, here is what I've been up to since, well, June.

Still trekking back and forth to Philly to see the boy every other weekend.
Somehow have convinced said boy to still date me. The chloroform is working splendidly.
Still at the same job. I know. But if you've learned anything about me, it's that I am highly unmotivated. I find that bitching gets the job done, without having to actually change anything.
I have discovered an unparalleled love for Fage yogurt.
I am sick of listening to John McCain whistle through his debates. And his dentures.
I love my American Apparel hoodie. I hate myself for buying anything that Dov Charney and his perv mustache are associated with.
I wanted to adopt a one-eyed dog named Phyllis. The one squinty eye gave her the look of a kicky old broad who would smoke cigarettes and drink Manhattans at 8am while wearing a caftan. We would have had all the fun, Phyllis and I.
I now want a ridiculous teeny dog that I can put in a bag and who will make people wonder if I'm carrying a canine or rodent.
I will make said dog wear ridiculous items- perhaps a sailors cap? Then will send pictures to all of my friends who will wonder why they like me, and why they RSVP'ed to a dog's birthday party.
Recently have gone back to the gym when I noticed that my thigh was roughly the same size as my boyfriends.

Yes, my life is boring.

But I figure that I have to be better off than the grown woman who was carefully studying her copy of Highlights magazine on the F train yesterday.

First, I plan to soil myself. Then, I'm going to regroup and come up with a new plan.*

2008-06-23T19:31:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know me, my life is made up of many people who are teachers.

I envy them for a number of reasons, which include, but are not limited to:

1. They can actually make a difference in the lives of children.

2. That leads to a sense of purpose when they go to work every day.

3. They all really love what they do.

But all of those wonderful things aside, there is one benefit that rises above all.

It is the glorious 9 weeks that they have off every summer.

And when I say envy, I don't mean that I'm a tad jealous.

I mean that I have the forest green kind of covetousness that makes my eyes cross and my soul twist.

Now that I am dating one, my jealousy has reached new heights.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy for all of them, and they definitely deserve it.

But knowing that they are home and enjoying their days, I have devoted my time to try and figure out just how I can have the summer off as well.

I have come up with a few ideas so far.

1. Scratch offs.

2. Mega Millions.

3. Selling my blood.

I think I need a new plan. Any ideas?

*bonus points if you know what movie that's from.

95 miles.

2008-06-02T18:32:00.000-07:00

He is tall and broad and slender. He has a tough look and a kind heart.

His tattoos contradict the gentle soul that lies beneath the skin.

He is able to love openly and without reservation.

His cheekbones sculpt his face, framed by strong eyebrows and a square jaw.

He teaches inner city youth, and they teach him back.

He is serious and goofy and sincere.

He wears fitted pants and they look good.

He will never lie to me, and he makes me want to be better.

His eyes see more of myself than I do, and when they look into mine, I can see my future.

I am small and thin and wear size seven shoes.

I have long brown wavy hair and eyes that are green in the right light.

I need coffee every morning and a moment to myself.

I keep my expressions guarded and my heart open.

I am sarcastic and witty and can quote movies with the skill of a savant.

I am learning to be open and vulnerable instead of closed and defensive.

I will never lie to him, and I will never let him wonder where he stands.

It makes my day when I make him laugh.

He loves his job, I loathe mine.

He can play the guitar, I am tone deaf.

I am an only child, he is a twin.

I am an internet detective, he gets lost in cyberspace.

He believes in God, I'm not so sure.

We both believe in each other.

Our hands and bodies fit as if custom tailored.

We trace each others skin as if it's the first time we've ever seen it.

We laugh and tease and understand each other.

Other couples look for excitement, we yearn for the mundane.

We want life together, the little daily ins and outs that so many take for granted, and even end up resenting.

I want mornings together, and lazy Sunday afternoons that don't involve a countdown and a Greyhound.

He wants me in his city, so it can all be complete.

I want to be in that city, so I can feel whole.

Sigh.

2008-05-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

I just heard this while watching "Beauty and the Geek."

"I recently got a boob job. I feel like it is an investment, because all of the drinks that I'll have gotten boughten for me over time because I have boobs, will like, pay for them."

Gah.

You make me touch your hands for stupid reasons.

2008-05-22T13:50:00.000-07:00

I love this.

I have no idea where it came from, or who narrates it, but kudos to you, good sir for giving a voice to that piece of literary genius.

This entry is about all I can come up with right now, as I partook in entirely too much white wine last night-
more later on how I got a bruised ass at an awards dinner for work.

Oh, and make sure that you have the sound on when you watch that little gem above.

Helpful Hint

2008-05-19T06:14:00.000-07:00

When you, random stranger, tell me to "Smile!" while I'm on my way to work (especially on a Monday), it does not make me want to do so.

Actually, it has the total opposite effect.

It makes me want to punch you in the face.

You be 'illin.

2008-05-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

As the wave of nausea woke me at 5:30 this morning, my first thought was that work was not going to be on the agenda today.

I rolled around in my bed in misery until 7:30 when I sent a text to my boss saying that I would not be making it in.

While I was relieved to not have to drag my ass into the shower and feign enthusiasm for the day, I couldn't help but feel guilty about not going into work.

Especially because I took off tomorrow to have mouth surgery.

Which is not exactly a vacation day, but whatever.

My office is a tricky place when you call in sick. Because while many are sympathetic, or at least understanding, the general feeling is one of resentment or disdain when you admit defeat and stay home.

I'm not sure why this is, or how we have become such martyrs.

Martyrs for a cause that very few of us believe in, no less.

I, for one, feel guilty because in my department, its just me and another woman.

Who is a good friend.

So when I call in, I am essentially asking her to do all of my work for the day.

Which is why I don't call in unless I actually am feeling horrendous.

But all of the guilt aside, and even though I am feeling like poo on a stick, I have to admit that I'm enjoying having a day with nothing to do.

I've been watching bad television, laying in bed, and occasionally checking email.

I have a list of things that I need to do, but due to the current state of my inner workings, none of that will be getting done today.

And I really like that, because the pace that I've been keeping lately has been getting me down.

So just for today, I'm going to allow myself to not be productive and to not feel bad about it.

Now, back to the America's Next Top Model Marathon.

Communication Breakdown

2008-05-13T17:20:00.000-07:00

As I was walking down the 6 train platform today, two MTA employees were trying in vain to open a door.

They kept looking at each other in confusion, pointing at keys and trying them out.

Various hand gestures were exchanged, as they tried to speak without having the same native tongue.

One gent was Asian, the other Hispanic.

I suspect neither man spoke english very well, as they could not understand each others words.

As I passed them, I noticed the sign on the door-

"Communication Room."

Classic.

If you go looking for trouble

2008-05-13T14:53:00.001-07:00

...you're probably going to find it.

Happy (belated) Mutha's Day.

2008-05-12T06:53:00.000-07:00

I tried to post this yesterday, but the ancient computer at my parents wasn't having it.

So, here it is, a day late and possibly a dollar short.

I absolutely love this guy, and his videos are my favorite thing that YouTube has presented me.

Maybe you have to be from Long Island to appreciate it, but I know at least 2 friends' moms who are exactly like this.

Happy Mutha's Day.

Here are the others:
The Phone Call
and
The Christmas Tree

Hello, my friends. Hello.

2008-05-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

Ah the sweet lyrics of the Diamond. What a way to start a post.

I realize that I've been gone for a while, so for those of you who don't know me, here's what I've been up to. In no real particular order.

Got a new tattoo three weeks ago which spans about 8 inches from top to bottom and covers my left middle back/side. "Covers" is a bit misleading- it's vine type work with lettering. Very lady-like. Well, as lady like as black ink drilled into your skin can be.
Had a mental breakdown two weeks ago about how I feel like I have no time anymore and am always running around and not seeing my friends and am suffocating in general.
Cried like a lunatic for a good two hours, then regrouped and got shit into perspective.
Made some well needed time for the guys and gals that I haven't seen in a bit. Caught up and made sure that I actually still had friends. I do. And they're still the best.
Had my 28th birthday on Tuesday. Fairly uneventful, save for the package of presents I got in the mail from the boy. Including a song! Love it. Don't love being one year closer to 30.
Have recently started running over the Williamsburg bridge, and am determined to conquer that betch. (And by "recently," I mean I've done it twice. Whatever.)
Just bought the new Augusten Burroughs book and can't wait to devour it.
Read "The Alchemist" in a few hours. Wanted to see what all the hype was about. Still haven't completely made up my mind.
Have been daydreaming about winning the lottery so I never have to return to work.

I have logged into blogger a few times and have written some entries, but never ended up posting them.

I was using it as an outlet, and when I later read over what I wrote, I felt that it was too personal slash whiney to share with the world.

And by world, I mean the four of you who read this.

Mentally, I just wasn't in the best head space the past few weeks, and didn't want this blog to turn into my own personal shoulder to cry on.

It's fine to vent about how you feel, but when bitching starts becoming a daily event, it's time to apply the brakes.

Debbie Downer is the least fun at parties.

I also was getting a little intimidated by all of the great lady bloggers that I read daily, who are incredibly articulate and funny and real. Even if they just post little nothings, it still manages to always be entertaining.

So I may not be the best or funniest, but I feel like I entertain those of you who respond to what I write. And that's just fine with me.

So. That's that and I plan on posting fairly regularly again.

Thanks for sticking around if you did, I'm sure that in the coming months, I'll have some excellent tales.

Summer rarely disappoints....

Nothin' But Net.

2008-04-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

So today is World Malaria Day, which is not quite the celebration that the name may imply, but a day for awareness.

Malaria is a preventable and treatable disease, and we are lucky enough to not have to worry about it here in the U.S.

But it kills over a million people a year, and is especially devastating in Africa, where extreme poverty does not allow for medication, much less window screens to keep out the mosquitos at night when they feed.

But you can help!

For a donation of only $10, you can purchase a bed net that will protect a family of four, for up to four years.

By going to Nothing But Nets you can learn more about this problem, and help save a life.

A Video Movie Could Improve Your Life.

2008-04-22T13:55:00.001-07:00

This is my new favorite YouTube selection.

I enjoy it so much, in fact, that I am moving to BC to join Fred & Sharon's filmmaking team.

I suspect that Sharon and I are already soulmates.

Seriously though, this shit is great.

AND, there's a little Lochness in there.

Holler.

Muxtape!

2008-04-11T19:01:00.000-07:00

After writing my little pity party below, I almost forgot.

I made a muxtape at work today, while waiting to do actual work.

I think it's a nice mix for a rainy, lazy weekend like the one we're supposed to have here in NY.

As I said to my friends in the email I sent, it's not cool or hip or made up of obscure bands, but I like it.

And if you're lounging around as I plan to this weekend, maybe you'll like it too.

Enjoy!

My Muxtape

Once you click that link and get to my page, just click once on the first song, and it will start playing. (Some people were confused. Also, you do NOT have to buy the songs to listen to them.)

You can also go to the main page, and listen to anyone's playlist.

It's a great way to hear some new music, and share your favorites.

And no, I'm not sponsored by them.

Do you see what I see?

2008-04-11T17:58:00.000-07:00

I've been having quite a wrestling match with myself over the issue of self-confidence lately.

I swing wildly between accepting myself for who I am and how I look, to absolute distaste for the reflection that stares back at me.

Sometimes I consider plastic surgery to make my nose smaller, other times I think the bump and dent could be cute.

Certain days I like having a (very) small chest, a week later I can wish for at least a little something.

This fight has been a fairly recent one.

Before three years ago, I never even noticed that my nose might be considered "Roman" until the Ex pointed it out to me.

Now I analyze the different angles in the mirror.

From the front, I'm fine.

Turn to the right, I'm okay.

Turn to the left, I'm upset.

Now I study strangers faces on the commute to and from work. I analyze their noses, and wonder how so many were born with straight, small shapes.

Being Italian probably didn't give me the greatest advantage in that area, I'll admit.

It did give me great hair though. And an excellent pout. So there's that.

But I wonder why exactly this shift happened in me.

Is it because I moved into the city, where we are constantly surrounded by gorgeous people?

I mean, models walk among us daily. Hell, hourly.

Is it because I work in advertising and am continually subjected to ever changing standards of beauty?

Or is it simply a product of our beauty obsessed culture?

Because I don't think I'm ugly. I've always considered myself average to slightly above average, and I've always been okay with that.

But lately it feels like nothing less than perfection will be accepted.

You can't get through an issue of a fashion/lifestyle magazine without over a hundred 'tips' on how to look put together all the time.

Or how to fix the 'problems' that you may have never even known existed.

But I guess thats how advertisers get you to buy their products. If everyone was pleased with what they had, no one would buy anything.

So where does it end? I recently read this article, where 8 year old girls are getting bikini waxes.

Um, did I miss something? Because if memory serves, I wasn't even allowed to shave my legs with an electric shaver until about 12. And in 3rd grade, the least of my worries were about pubic hair.

I didn't grow up with low self-esteem, I was taught to accept and love myself as is.

So clearly, I derailed somewhere.

But I do have a real concern for young girls growing up in this age. If they're getting highlights at 6 and bikini waxes at 8, how are they ever going to learn to accept their own body or image?

I don't know the answers to any of these things.

Maybe it's just me who struggles with self-acceptance, but I don't think so.

I have gorgeous friends who lack self-esteem, and plainer friends who love their looks as is, but wish for something else.

I do know that self-worth does not lie in the outward appearance. I know.

I know that it is superficial and shallow, but I can admit that sometimes it gets the best of me.

And I'm not proud of that.

I'm just hoping that maybe by putting it out there, it will get some of it out of my head, so I can replace those thoughts with some more positive and helpful ideas.

I don't hate myself, I don't want sympathy, and I'm not fishing for compliments.

I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, and that my looks are considered attractive.

More than anything, I guess I'm curious as to how these cracks in my foundation came about.

I'm working hard to patch them up.

Having a spectacular boyfriend helps. A lot.

But I would like the ability to see myself through someone else's eyes.

Just to see what the truth is, without the bias.

I suspect it's not as scary as I imagine.

Speak American!

2008-04-08T08:07:00.000-07:00

This just in- Americans can be self-centered and ignorant!

The outrage against this ad (which only ran in Mexico anyway), exemplifies to me how ridiculous this country can be sometimes.

Namely how there was a boycott called for against Absolut, and one blogger "poured the remainder of (his) Absolut bottles down the drain."

Really?

This is what we're getting upset about?

In an Absolut world, Americans would care about the things that are actually happening in this country, instead of wasting time and energy on an ad for vodka.

Or, just drink said vodka and loosen up a bit.

Obsession, for Me.

2008-04-03T18:38:00.000-07:00

I've come to accept the fact that I have a mild case of OCD.

Of course, I've never been clinically diagnosed, but I am enough of a hypochondriac/internet researcher to figure it out.

Also, it's pretty obvious if you spend time with me for, oh, ten minutes.

For instance, I need to check my alarm numerous times before I go to sleep.

"Normal!" you say. "Everyone does that!"

Right. But do you set and reset it at least 8 times, while muttering "a.m., p.m." as you switch the settings over and over?

Didn't think so.

I also must do everything with my right side first. This includes, but is not limited to, getting dressed, putting on makeup, tying shoes, going up steps, etc.

If I do something with the left first on accident, I have to re-do it on the right, otherwise I'll feel off-balance all day.

Mmm-hmm. Special.

Another item in this bag of goodies is my obsession with having everything symmetrical.

I've been known to rearrange the fruit basket at work so it is balanced and therefore, more aesthetically pleasing.

I line up condiment packages in even patterns, straighten out tilted artwork, stack my shoes in height order, and if I tap the fingers on my right hand 15 times, you can guess what the left hand will be doing next.

I've never been bothered by any of this though, I just consider it a part of who I am.

I prefer to look at it as "quirky", rather than odd, and luckily it has never gotten out of control.

I do, however, think that this OCD has a major role in my smoking addiction.

From what I understand, people who have OCD live by rituals.

Which is exactly what smoking is, a ritual.

It is always there for you, always consistent.

You generally smoke at the same times during the day, or during certain events, such as driving, after eating, drinking coffee, etc.

It takes the same amount of time to smoke a cigarette, the taste is always the same, the smell is always the same.

No matter what is going on, smoking remains the same.

It gives you a time out, a moment to do something comforting, familiar, and habitual.

If you have never been a smoker, then I'm sure that the above few sentences sound ridiculous.

But for me at least, it's true.

I like things to stay the same, and smoking was something that I did every day.

So by simply not smoking, I feel like I'm missing something.

And I know- I'm only missing out on negative things.

I know that quitting is the best thing I can do for myself, and I'm already feeling less worried in general.

The rage is subsiding (slowly), and even though I still have cravings, so far I've managed to sit them out.

I think that if I can just take it day by day, eventually I won't have to think about it anymore.

But I still haven't said goodbye to my toxic and deadly companion.

Maybe I need some closure to finally end 9 years of an abusive relationship.

I need to let go of the "you don't know what we have when we're alone" aspect and remember all the times it used to embarrass me, make me stand out in the freezing cold, and miss out on social events.

There's also that whole pesky death thing.

I'm getting there.

You're getting very.....cranky?

2008-04-01T06:28:00.000-07:00

So after many reservations, hesitations, and almost ten years of smoking, I decided to be proactive and went to the hypnotist on Monday to quit.

Pretty much everyone that I mentioned this to knew someone who had had raging success with this method of "cessation." (That doesn't require quotes, but I think it adds a certain something, don't you?)

Anyway.

So I was cautiously optimistic- secretly hoping for a miracle cure, but knowing that two hours in a poorly decorated office would most likely not break my addiction.

I show up at the office at exactly 6 p.m., ring the buzzer, and go in.

I'll spare you the boring details, but suffice to say that he talked about himself for a good twenty minutes, all the while staring at me while I sat uncomfortably in his beige recliner.

With the massager on.

Awkward.

Then I was moved to the lounge/reception area to watch a video for a half hour while he ate his "sashimmy." Which is 'sashimi' to the rest of us.

( I think he actually works for the DEC, because he talked about the benefits of Omega-3's and eating fish for an additional 40 minutes.)

I watched the video with graphics from 1987 and listened to the soothing English accented voiceover like a good hypnotee, all the while trying to muster up some belief, and soon the hypnotizing commenced.

While he was warming up, all I could think of was the scene in Office Space. They actually say "deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation."

And they count down from ten.

The feeling is akin to what it's like right before you fall asleep, where your body feels incredibly heavy, but you're still aware of what's going on around you, even if you don't really concern yourself with it.

There was a lot of positive reinforcement about not smoking, but the entire time I couldn't fully let go. The hypnotists' arrogance had left such a mark on me that I felt like I was fighting his suggestions the whole time.

Once the session was over, it was as if I had walked out of a five hour movie, where you go in when it's light out and come out and it's dark, and you have no idea what the hell just happened.

I talked to my father on the phone who asked me to please call him back when I got home, because at that moment I realized I was walking 4 blocks in the wrong direction.

I still craved a cigarette out of habit, but didn't actually want one.

I feel the same way now, two full days later, and am still smoke free.

Although here's the interesting bit- any time someone asks me about the hypnotist, I get a rush of unadulterated rage.

Frustration wells up to the point where I feel like giving up, going to the corner, and buying a pack.

Then I wait two minutes and the need to stab everything around me passes and I am once again (relatively) lovely.

But I've been wondering, did the frustration I felt in the session carry over into normal life and now I associate that man with annoyance? Or is it just the fact that my brain is screaming for nicotine after being deprived for two days? It could also be the fact that some of the smokers in my office derive a sick pleasure in teasing me with cigarettes.

Funny, guys. Would you offer an alcoholic a beer?

I'm not really sure what the answer is yet, but so far I'm smoke free and trying to hold it together.

Maybe hypnotism does work.

Then again, it could also be the $375 that I paid for the session.

I refuse to let that money go to waste, dammit.

M.I.A.

2008-03-26T11:09:00.001-07:00

Hello, faithful 2 (possibly 3?) readers.

I realize that I've been away for a while- you probably didn't even notice.

Anyway, the new job is keeping me super busy during the day, so I have little time to think about anything else but deadlines lately.

Long gone are the days of F'ing around on the Internets for 7 hours of the work day.

Sigh.

I will write something substantial soon, I promise. (This is more of a promise to myself, since I'm not sure that anyone is actually reading this blog besides myself. But, I digress.)

Today is kooky at work and I am running a mile a minute, but this clip made me smile.

Everyone needs a little love on a Wednesday.

Enjoy!

Um.

2008-03-13T13:09:00.000-07:00

I am not sure what's going on today, but the universe has sent me two gifts today, via the Internets.

This story is both incredibly disgusting and morbidly fascinating at the same time.

Did she ever change her clothes?

Did she wash herself?

Did she get bored?

Why did he let her sit there for two years?!

So many questions.

No answers.

I will be following up on this story, don't you worry.

This link brings me incredible amounts of joy.

First- Cats in costumes. Sold.

Second- Japanese to English translations that get totally lost. Classic.

Happy Thursday!

Enjoy my bountiful gifts.

Living just enough for the city.

2008-03-11T18:38:00.001-07:00

I count down the hours on my iMac clock, and wait for the day to end.

Exiting my unremarkable office building, I put in my ear buds and turn up the volume against bus brakes screaming in the frustration of gridlock, and street sweepers grinding against the concrete, tossing up trash for me to dodge.

Bits of conversations, and the rants of the mentally unstable mix and merge to create a symphony of confusion and dissonance.

I am pushed onto the subway car, packed in amongst strangers who are close enough to make love, but who never make so much as eye contact.

I transfer trains, onto another interchangeable car filled with faces that I do not register.

We spill off the train, pushing and shoving to get to the turnstile first.

One false step and we will fall like dominoes.

A rat scurries across my path and into the alley next to my apartment building.

It's the one with the bags of garbage out front.

I carry a basket of laundry down five flights of stairs four times.

Each time I am greeted by someone else's basket, smugly claiming stake over the machines.

I give up and put the sheets back on my bed.

A car alarm blares outside my window and is noticed only in annoyance, not alarm.

Horns bray and tires rotate in an endless parade across the Williamsburg Bridge.

I feel the hormones from the tiny pill rushing through my bloodstream, adding to my anxiety and fueling my agitation.

My brain begs, pleads, bargains for nicotine, and I fear that it will never cease until it finally suffocates me.

City life.

I feel the pressures building, and I long for escape.

For quiet, and peace, and space.

To get off the proverbial hamster wheel and stop running towards nothing.

To get into a bikini and let the sun warm my skin while the sounds of the tides lull me to sleep.

To throw out my alarm clock and my anxieties at the same time, and never think of them again.

Isn't doing laundry every girl's dream?

2008-03-10T07:19:00.000-07:00

Since I was without computer this weekend, this post was meant for Saturday.

For International Women's Day, I would like to acknowledge the progress that has been made in the women's movement with this commercial:

File this under: shit that makes me completely mental.

White Lines

2008-03-07T16:52:00.000-08:00

She glanced at the clock again.

3:37 a.m.

Two minutes later than the last time she looked.

Sixty-seven minutes after he said he would be back.

Through eyes blurred by vodka and tears, she watched.

This was not the first time she waited for him.

Her mind thought back to an hour ago.

How she had sat at a table of strangers by herself, trying to look casual and failing desperately.

Feeling invisible- the girlfriend not worth meeting, and therefore, never introduced.

She kept pulling out her phone, as if waiting for an important message.

No one would be calling.

Friends had long since stopped trying to reach her, tired of her voicemail and thin excuses.

He was all she had left, the only number dialed.

Dialed more on the bad days, when he would vanish and punish her with the empty answer of his own voicemail.

He had disappeared into the bathroom this time.

His friend was gone too, she realized, and the occupancy was meant for one person only.

Anger and disappointment rose in her throat along with acid and bile as she thought of the conversation of only a few days ago.

"I can stop whenever I want. It's not like I need it."

She had known it was a lie, just as she knew that at that very moment, white powder was flying up his nose as fast as he could shovel it.

She also knew what would be coming next.

He emerged from behind the door, eyes bloodshot and clouded by an undefinable rage.

They landed on her.

He had found his target.

Looking to provoke her, he sat at the other end of the table, ignoring her and flirting with a brunette with shaggy bangs.

She thought of her own hair, dyed blonde, and crunchy in an attempt to be curly.

It was classic Long Island in the hip East Village dive bar, and she felt ashamed.

He went outside with the brunette to smoke a cigarette.

Uninvited, she followed.

The scene that erupted on the corner in the next few minutes drew onlookers.

She cried as he hurled obscenities, his insults smacked her in the face and stung just as much as the biting wind.

All she had asked was for them to leave together and go home to her tiny studio where he had been living for the past year.

The brunette watched from behind her Marlboro and looked smug.

As the girl got into a cab, she looked back and saw him laughing with the brunette.

He opened the door for her and they receded into the crowd.

Lying in bed and waiting for the sound of the key in the door, she wondered when and how she had lost herself.

Once so opinionated, she now couldn't assert herself to make any kind of decision without his input.

Once so sure, she now couldn't defend herself against his manipulations.

Once so confident, she now made herself believe in his lies.

She was lost.

He was out with the brunette.

Saturday passed and on Sunday morning, he came home.

He packed his things as he explained how he couldn't rationalize his shortcomings, his lying, his inability to commit.

He loved her, but she simply wanted too much from him, and he didn't need a mother.

His alcoholic one in Italy was enough for him.

She tried to make him see her point of view, and it fell on deaf ears.

She cried.

So did he.

She searched his eyes and begged him to stay, and his resolve melted, as it always did.

He knew that he needed her, and he hated both himself and her for it.

He pushed her against the wall and kissed her passionately, apologizing while removing her pants.

As they lay on the bed, he passed out with the urgency of someone who hadn't slept in days.

He hadn't.

She stared at the packed suitcase in the middle of the room and felt a mixture of disappointment and overwhelming relief.

The suitcase remained untouched for the next two days- a reminder to both that he could leave without so much as a warning.

I Laugh In the Face of The Glass Ceiling

2008-03-04T20:03:00.000-08:00

Well, I haven't broken through yet, but after months of (obvious) frustration, I started training for my new position at work today.

Huzzah!

It's a promotion of sorts, but more of a career shift.

I had decided that my current position was not one that I would want to make a career out of, much less do for another second.

So when the opportunity presented itself, I attacked.

The downside is that a good friend is leaving for greener pastures, but I will be taking her position.

My background in the business should serve me well, and I'm hoping that this shift in career won't create too much of a shift amongst the friendships I've developed in the office.

I don't think it will, but I am slightly nervous about this new set of responsibilities.

I guess after the past few years of feeling stagnant, I'm almost afraid to start something new.

Which I realize is ridiculous, but that's me.

I can say however, that it was exceptionally nice to be learning something new today.

I haven't stretched my brain in way too long, and the challenge of actually thinking was refreshing.

I'm rather optimistic about it, and can only see good things coming out of this move, so I'm going with it.

Plus, the salary raise helps. Alot.

I should start buying Depends.

2008-02-28T13:38:00.000-08:00

No, not because I have bowel control issues.
That is another topic entirely.

I think I should start looking into Depends, along with a pair of good-lookin' orthopedic shoes, a walker, and a bad attitude.
(Well, the crotchety attitude I've already got in spades.)
Why do I need these items, you ask?
Because I am an old lady.

After going to the doctor today for a pain that I've had in my left leg for two weeks now, (which, btw, I was convinced was a blood clot and that I was going to die any second. Ahh, being a hypochondriac.) he informed me that I have sciatica.

Now maybe it's not really an old bag syndrome, but it damn well feels like it.

I have to start a regimen of anti-inflammatory meds, and if I sit for too long I get shooting pains from the ass down.

Also, I went to the gym two, count 'em, two times this week.

After a period of great inactivity, this has rendered me completely stiff and sore, which adds a geriatric shuffle to my already suffering gait.

I feel that, at 27, minor physical activity should not cripple me.

Maybe I'll just get one of those donut pillows to sit on and call it a day.

Update: My Australian co-worker just called it "Shagging Spine".

I like that connotation much better.

How To Have An Excellent Morning

2008-02-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

In 20 easy steps!

1. Wake up late
2. Putz around like you have all the time in the world.
3. Leave your house 10 minutes late.
4. Pick a train that is running slow.
5. Sit at the 2nd Ave. stop for 10 minutes.
6. Switch to the express train.
7. Sit at W4th. for 10 minutes.
8. Listen to the conductor tell you that there is a stalled train on your track. At the stop you need to get to.
9. Switch to the local track again.
10. See step 8.
11. Walk upstairs to the A train.
12. Get on.
13. Get off at 34th Street. And 8th avenue.
14. Buy coffee with last dollar in wallet.
15. Spill said coffee all over hands.
16. Throw out offending coffee because it sucks and you're annoyed.
17. Walk 5 avenues and 4 blocks in boots that have a heel and are ever so slightly too big.
18. Get to work 35 minutes late.
19. Don't smoke cigarettes.
20. Want to punch bitches in the neck.

Tetanus, anyone?

2008-02-25T14:03:00.000-08:00

This morning as I was debating the amount of effort I was going to put into getting dressed, I made the decision to not look homeless today.
So I put on my excellent new (vintage) boots that the bf got me for Valentines Day. (Sidenote-Boots are always a better present than chocolate.)

I added a vest, some good jewelry, and called it a morning.

The hair was left to its own devices. I don't care that much.
Roommate and I walked out together, and I noticed a slight annoyance under my right heel.
Thinking it was a pebble, I ignored it and kept on going.
Until about a block later when roomate finally asked why I was walking like a lame horse/polio victim.

Realizing that I looked like I was doing The Humpty Dance, (you know, "first I limp to the side like my leg was broken, shakin' and twitchin' kinda like I was smokin'- crazy whack funky") I turned into Dunkin' Donuts to get my morning inspiration and shake the pebble out of my shoe.

While I generally do not remove my footwear in public restaurants, especially at 8:30 in the morning, desperate times called for desperate measures.
I took off the boot, shook it out, and nothing.

Confused, I peered in and saw a rusty nail staring back at me.

Good Morning!

Since I had no band aids or protective covering, I folded up some DD napkins and put it in the heel.
Which then added a nice off-balance, drunken stagger to my stride.

By the time I reached work, I was irate from my commute, the fact that it was Monday, and my hindered stride.
Oh, and add in the fact that I have not allowed myself any cigarettes, and I was pretty much insane.

Then I went to the big, hairy, Armenian/Turkish/We Can't Ever Decide Which Nationality He Is- Shoe Man.
Generally a gruff man, he took my shoe right away and removed the offending disease-ridden-from-being-worn-by-numerous-people-over-the-years- nail.

And didn't charge me anything.

Walking back to my office in a decidedly less torturous shoe, I realized again how there are nice people in this city.
And it only took a tetanus threat to see that.

What happens in Vegas...

2008-02-22T12:12:00.000-08:00

...definitely does not stay there.

Now that I've been back for almost 2 days, I still have exhaustion, a cloudy brain, random bruises, a heavy liver and even heavier lungs.
I also have lots of laughs, good stories, great celebrity sightings, and some excellent memories.

Vegas is an odd place indeed, where reality is completely suspended.
Everything is a replica of an original.
With the hotels attempts to re-create everything from New York City to Caesars Palace, it's like being in a grown up version of a dollhouse.
A very expensive, debauchery filled dollhouse.

Even my life was in suspended animation for 4 days, while my friends and I were given the VIP treatment that we're still not completely sure how we mangaged to uphold. We are not the most demure of ladies, that's for sure.

But that's the thing about Vegas. Everyone is pretending to be something they're not.
So while we were escorted into every club and mingled in the VIP sections of the most expensive scenes, we pretended that we most definitely belonged there. Because no one would dare to ask who we were, I suspect for the fear of being exposed as a fraud as well.
So we drank their vodka and enjoyed every free sip.

One of the most popular questions we heard in our time there was "You girls aren't from Vegas, are you?"
While it sounds accusatory, the overwhelming response seemed to be that of relief when we said that we were from New York.
"Yeah, I thought so. You don't look like the girls here."
Second most popular comment.
We asked a few what that actually meant, and got some vague answers, save one.
"Because you don't have fake tits up to your neck choking you, hair extensions, and you're natural looking."
Well, thank you.

I think?

It was absolutely meant as a compliment, and we ended up being friendly with this guy who was actually very nice.
But it definitely got me thinking.

As someone who reads celebrity magazines and fashion websites, I am mildly obsessed with the standards of beauty. Even with progressive advertising from Dove about "real beauty", the general consensus seems to be that bigger is better when it comes to breasts, lips, hair, and heels. Less is more when we're talking about weight and the amount of clothing.
I analyze these looks and sometimes find myself jealous of women who are considered "perfect".
I sometimes stare at my reflection and wonder why I couldn't have been born with a smaller nose, or straighter teeth, or bigger boobs.

But after four nights of watching girls who have huge fake boobs that defy gravity, hair dyed to oblivion, and enough makeup to make a drag queen jealous, I saw something much more obvious than beauty.

I saw insecurity.
I saw girls who would be gorgeous without all the makeup and fake designer clothing.
I saw girls who were dancing with men three times their age and forcing laughter at all the derogatory comments and gropes, in the hopes of getting a second meeting, some of their money, or at the very least, a free drink.

And it made me appreciate what I have.

I may not be the most perfect girl, but I am lucky enough to have someone who loves me just the way I am.
I may not have the biggest boobs, but I am damn funny and that shit will be more entertaining for a lot longer than silicone.
I may not be treated like a VIP all the time, but I have friends who always think that I'm important.

So thank you, Las Vegas, for giving me a well needed dose of reality.
Even if that was the last thing you intended to do.

More Vegas stories to come, and more regular posting once I've molded my brain back into something resembling a functioning organ.

That burning sensation

2008-02-14T13:56:00.000-08:00

In honor of the holiday with the greatest initials, I have written a little ditty.
I'm hoping that Hallmark buys this one, I suspect it will sell like hotcakes.

Ahem. Here goes.

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
I have VD
And now you do too

OR you could modify it for your own personal situation.

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
I have VD
Thanks to you

Yes. I realize that I am ever so slightly immature for getting immense joy out of venereal disease jokes.
Whatever, it's how I do.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Outta My Head

2008-02-08T13:40:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make.

I've been carrying this secret around with me for quite some time, and I think it's time I came out with it.

I can only hope that this declaration does not change your (hopefully glorious and magnanimous) opinion of myself.

But I feel that I cannot fully be myself unless I make this public.

I love Ashlee Simpson.

Yes.

I have an unabashed lady crush on Ash Simps.

Maybe this doesn't seem like the biggest declaration, but considering the fact that I am not 16, no longer shop at Hot Topic, and believe that I have excellent taste in music, it is slightly embarrassing.

Because I love everything about her- her barely passable singing voiced, weak lyric writing, nose job getting, lip-synching self.

I want to have her hair. Both the style and actual strands (they would greatly help the hair doll that I'm crafting.)

I kid. Sort of.

Maybe it's because people used to tell me (pre-nose job, dark hair days) that we looked alike, that I feel a kinship with Ash.

I call her Ash, btw, because that's what best friends do.

My fascination started when she had a short lived reality show on MTV that barely anyone watched, save myself and friend M.

It has lasted to this present day.

So, in celebration of my "coming out", and because I have been listening to her new single for the past 3 days on repeat, I am going to share my joy with you.

Ay ya ya ya ya.

Anyone else have embarrassing lady/man crushes or am I all alone in this one?

Help Me Help You.

2008-02-06T12:07:00.000-08:00

Now, I don't want to be an alarmist, but I believe that there is an epidemic raging in NYC.

If you are male and between the ages of 25-45, you may already be infected.

It is commonly known as Male Adult Infantile Syndrome (MAIS).

The symptoms include:
-Total inability to do anything for yourself.
This includes making phone calls, solving simple problems, or cleaning up after yourself.

-Feeling the inherent need to lie around and yell orders at people across the room, with complete disregard for any tasks that they may be involved in.
-Asking someone repeatedly while they are on the phone, who exactly they are talking to.
-Demanding that everyone around find something for you. It will be located in front of your face, but you won't be bothered to try and look.

-Repeatedly poking, prodding, or generally irritating someone on purpose.

-Sighing loudly and frequently when you actually have to do something for yourself.

You will try and make everyone suffer if you have to.

This is a very new study, but the cases that I've witnessed have been quite severe.

Ladies, be on the lookout.

Most of these men seem to be capable of bathing and dressing themselves in the morning, so don't be fooled.

Do not cater to their cries for help.

It may seem harsh, but remember that you are only helping them in the long run.

Men, if you witness any of these symptoms, contact your therapist immediately.

So far, there is no known cure.

Ignoring the problem only seems to make it fester, and as with any infection, that will cause it to spread.

I've found that an evil eye and well-delivered threat of "I am going to fucking punch you" is generally effective.

I considered calling the CDC, but I may just open an adult daycare center instead and start raking in the cash.

Rest in Peace

2008-01-31T06:32:00.000-08:00

A man passed away this morning at 12:02.

A man with silver hair, a slow smile, and a gentle voice.

A man who had four beautiful children and a loving wife.

A man who was the picture of health, with terminal brain cancer.

This man and I met over 20 years ago, when I was small and shy.

He found a piece of wire on a commercial set one day, a long time ago.

We would slyly pass it back and forth to each other for years- a silly game that made my seven year old self feel important and noticed.

Unexpectedly, I would find it in my coat pocket or bag. And I would smile and devise a plan of how to sneak it back to him when he least expected it.

I would wait patiently for him to forget our game, and drop his guard.

He never did.

This man would know my father more than most ever will.

This man would make him laugh, and they would tell stories together of the old days- picking up where the other left off and making everyone in the room jealous that they weren't a part of it.

This man's passing will take a piece of my father with him.

This man was named James.

He was taken too soon, and I ache for his family and friends.

I hurt for my father who lost such a dear friend.

I am sorry for everyone who will be affected by this loss in ways that I can never comprehend.

I can only hope that he knew just how many people loved him, and how many lives he touched.

Goodbye Jim, may you rest in peace.

You will be greatly missed.

Truth In Advertising

2008-01-30T08:51:00.000-08:00

Ha.

I can't explain the business that I'm in any better than this. Watch if you have 12 minutes to waste during your productive work day.

I know I sure do.

Anything with a "Hula Motor" sounds good to me

2008-01-29T12:28:00.000-08:00

I would like this for my birthday. Start pooling your money now.

Kthnxbai.

P.S. Anyone else notice how it sounds like the guy says "feels great on my ass!"?

Tangled Up in Blue

2008-01-28T07:37:00.000-08:00

I'm dragging today.

My shoes feel filled with concrete, my bones with sand.

Gravity is taking a steady lead in the battle with my eyelids.

Despair threatens to get the best of me.

"Despair" is probably too strong a word, but right now I lack a better one.

Work brings me no joy, it is simply an obstacle to navigate. Doing just enough to get by is hardly my idea of fulfilling.

Counting down the minutes is hardly how I want to spend them.

I have credit card debt that I cannot get out of. I didn't realize how much until I just looked. I am continually surprised at my own lack of awareness when it comes to money.

A family friend is dying.

The fact that I feel bad for myself right now in light of this makes me feel even more selfish.

I want to be back in a tiny bed in Philly, entangled in limbs and blankets and love, and forget everything else.

My sweater smells like you.

My alternate reality is much nicer than this one.

Champagne Wishes and Diddy Dreams

2008-01-24T11:40:00.000-08:00

Last night in a dream, he came to me with a proposition.

While we were sitting in the back of the limo that can drive on water, he said the words I've longed to hear.

"(My last name), I want to buy you for $10,000 for the week."

When I asked why me, he said-

"Because I can call you (last name), and I can't do that with anyone else."

That's right, the Daddy of all Puffs, Mr. P. Diddy himself- wants to rent me for 7 days.

I had to think about it.

Now, if it was T.I., I would have done it in a second.

Stolen Ideas

2008-01-23T13:24:00.000-08:00

I got this from my one of my favorite blogs, "this fish" (see link).

And since I'm killing time at work, here we go.

Rando Things About Me:

1. I love olives more than anyone ever should. I can eat a whole can/jar in a sitting. And have.

2. I have an unabashed love for 80's music, mainly hair bands.

3. I love to karaoke, if only because I wish I could sing more than anything in the world.

4. When I find a new song to love, I listen to it on repeat until I can't stand it anymore.

5. I adore dimples and covet anyone who has them.

6. Any sort of skin issues gross me out more than anything.

7. I'm a sucker for British, Irish or Australian accents.

8. I hate Midwestern accents.

9. My biggest pet peeve is incorrect spelling on purpose. I.e. "E-Z Kwik"

10. I love animals dressed in costumes. Babies also. Anything that looks disgruntled in a top hat/bunny suit/foofy sweater, really.

11. I love red nail polish.

12. I have a short temper. I always apologize quickly though.

13. I want to learn sign language, and be conversational in italian.

14. I am jealous of anyone with musical or artistic ability.

15. I will always pick salty over sweet.

16. Soda still feels like a treat to me.

17. I'm convinced that I love brand name items because I was never allowed to have them as a child.

18. I have a rapist's wit.

19. I can quote movies with the skill of a savant.
20. I can sleep for days if left unattended.
21. I am afraid of heights.
22. I love rollercoasters.
23. Losing my parents scares me more than anything I can think of.
24. I like it when people think that my friends and I are sisters.
25. I go to the beach when I need to clear my head.
26. I. love. hot. dogs.
27. I. hate. advertising.
28. I like having nicknames.
29. I miss driving my car.
30. There are few things better than sheets and towels out of the dryer.
31. I love rainy days, especially if I'm not working.
32. I'd rather die of heat exhaustion than freezing.
33. I'm afraid of being buried alive.
34. I'm afraid of being forgotten.
35. I've always thought I am going to have twins.
36. I think I'm psychic sometimes.
37. I need to know everything, all the time.
38. I wish I would have worn my retainer when they told me to.
39. Wind annoys me.
40. I have an OCD with things being even.
41. I pick apart everything I eat.
42. I miss having a dishwasher.
43. Sometimes I really want designer things, other times I could care less.
44. I cannot make a decision.
45. I wish I would have never started smoking.
46. I could drink coffee all day long.
47. I am at a point where I finally like my hair.
48. I wish my best friends lived in the city with me.
49. I want a dog, but don't have the time to care for one.
50. I am thankful to my father for my long eyelashes and non-chicken lips like my mother's.

I am tired of talking about myself.

Anti-climactic

2008-01-23T06:56:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that this morning, I was almost hoping that the purpose of the meeting would be to announce that the company was closing its doors.

Then I could get severance and live out my dreams of doing absolutely nothing while collecting unemployment.

Hey, it's not that much less than what I make now.

Alas, such is not the case.

The meeting was another jerk off session of promises that will remain unkept and no real news.

Big things on the horizon! New logos! Advertising budget!

Then when we asked about things we're interested in having, the suggestions are blown off.

So no one says anything else.

So nothing gets done.

Good meeting, everyone.

Let's do this again sometime soon.

Bloody Hell

2008-01-17T17:52:00.000-08:00

Ick. Ick. Ew, EW, blech.

In reading Jezebel, my most favorite-est website, there is a link to a paparazzi site hosting pictures of Britney that prove she's not pregnant, as previously "reported".

Their proof?

Close up shots of Brit's ripped fishnets and blood stained underwear.

I mean, enough already.

While I admit to watching the Britney train wreck as much as anyone else, it's just enough.

The girl is clearly not mentally stable. She is clearly calling out for help, and no one will throw her a life saver. It's like a contest to see how long she can tread water for.

Now, I know that she is rumored to set up paparazzi shots and isn't listening to those who actually do want to help, but come on.

I had a conversation last night about junior high, and the horrors that just mentioning the time period recalls.

We were talking about how being a follower was the most important thing, because picking out the weaker children meant that you had bought yourself some more time before anyone noticed your flaws.

I am ashamed to admit that I participated as well, and I would always feel awful about it later. Seeing the embarrassment, shame and pain in those kids' eyes was unbearable.

Equally as unbearable was the obvious, desperate need for positive attention, which kept the bullied coming back for more.

That is what I see in the case of Miss Spears herself, and just as it did 14 years ago, it just makes me sad.

There are primaries going on, politicians vying and begging for our attention, so that they can help to try and fix the mess that this country has become.

An African-American man is running for President.

A woman is running for President.

This is groundbreaking.

And CNN dedicates 20 minutes of headline news to the fact that Britney has missed another court date.

There is a Wikipedia entry for "Thursday". Seriously.

2008-01-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

Hello, Thursday.

Seeing as it was incredibly difficult to get myself out of the comforter cocoon I created and my brain is still sleepy, today's topic is....(drumroll please)...

Random Things I Saw On The Train Today!

I realize this is eerily similar to last weeks post, but cut me some slack. I posted TWO things today.

Okay, here we go.

1. It is getting increasingly harder to distinguish between ironic hipsters and sexual predators.

-Cute guy under that mustache with a sense of humor, or criminally insane guy who wants to make a skin suit out of you? Who knows?! It's a fun guessing game!

2. It is next to impossible to wear leather gloves and not feel like a strangler.

- Trust me on this, I try every day.

3. There is a man who rides the F train who looks just like Taylor Hicks: Unlikely American Idol Winner Guy.

-I sort of wanted to ask him to break out a hip swiveling rendition of...that song...um, what's the name of it...er.... that big hit he had....

-I also wondered if the "Soul Patrol" was still in existance. I'd like to be a card carrying member.

4. As I was exiting the 34th street station, a man yelled at a baby for walking too slow.

-I wish I was funny enough to make this up.

Ahh, New York.

The two second wrap up.

2008-01-16T14:51:00.000-08:00

(I thought I posted this yesterday, but it appears that I did not. So I'm doing it now. Glad we got that cleared up.)

Ugh.

I've been trying to write a post for three days now, and everything that comes out feels like contrived crap.

Ha, ha.

That sentence sounds gross.

Anyway, I've decided that someecards.com is going to help me perform a mini-play of the last 2 weeks of my life.

Act One:

Act Two:

Act Three:

End Scene.

Now, anyone have a job for me?

A case of the Mondays.

2008-01-14T06:28:00.000-08:00

Since it's Monday and the last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed, here is all I can come up with so far today:

There is nothing to say.

Er.

2008-01-11T06:37:00.000-08:00

In my efforts to follow through on things, I've decided that I will write something every day.

Hopefully just getting something out will clear the cobwebs and writer's block that occurs every time I sit down in front of a computer.

In the spirit of writing anything, here is today's topic:

Things That I Don't Understand While On My Way To Work

1. People who wear sunglasses in the rain.

- It is already dark out.

2. Women with mustaches.

- I am all for gender equality. Except when it comes to facial hair.

Then I am totally sexist.

3. Why I haven't won the lottery yet, so I don't have to go to work.

That is all for now, work beckons me like a $2 hooker.

Times, they are a changin'. (Sorry for the Dylan reference, but I'm too tired to be clever.)

2008-01-10T18:10:00.000-08:00

Change is essential. Without it, life would be quite boring indeed.

Evolution would never occur.

Relationships would never grow.

Friendships would never be made.

It ends certain chapters of our lives, and begins others.

It seems that all at once, everything in my life and the lives of those closest to me, are changing.

Some changes are for the better, others are not so lucky.

As someone who is absolutely terrified of change, I am pretty off-kilter at the moment.

My job is in turmoil, I'm adjusting to a new apartment, and I'm in a new relationship.

They say that in New York, you're always looking for one of the three.

I'm not sure why this is, (maybe it's because as New Yorkers we're taught to always be struggling for something), but it seems that the job is my current cause for strife.

I've been with this company for about 5 years now. It's my first job out of college, and I've grown quite comfortable there.

Comfort breeds complacency.

Complacency breeds contempt.

I know that it's time to move on.

But I'm scared.

Of what, I'm not really sure.

The unknown? Probably.

Failure? Absolutely.

All I really want is to be able to do something that I enjoy. Something I love would be ideal, but I'm willing to settle.

It's also hard to pursue something you love when you don't know what that is.

And maybe that's what bothers me the most. Maybe that's why I've never left.

Maybe I'm so scared of having to look at myself and see that I don't have a true passion.

I see my friends who are teachers and who absolutely know that the career they have chosen is the correct one for them. And maybe they don't adore it every day, but there's no other real option, because this is what they're meant to do.

I've never felt like that.

Granted, I'd be scared of anyone who had a burning desire to work in advertising.

Unless they never had a soul to begin with.

But, I digress.

I guess what all of this comes down to are the same fears that I've dealt with my whole life.

Fear of failure, of being cast out, of being left behind, of being forgotten.

See, if you never make changes, then you never have to face those fears.

Except that you will get left behind.

Tag- you're it.

2008-01-07T08:14:00.000-08:00

62 Across in my crossword this morning was "Miss terribly".
Indeed, I do.

It seems crazy, because it's been just a little more than 24 hours of being apart.
And only 6 weeks of knowing each other.

Our mothers ran into each other at the grocery store today.
Something is happening and everyone around us can feel it.

Auld Lang Syne

2008-01-02T08:22:00.001-08:00

In the spirit of the New Year, I have two very specific resolutions that I plan to attack like a rabid dog.
As someone who never makes resolutions because I have an allergy to actually following through on anything, I think this is going to be an interesting challenge for me.
And I sort of hate challenges. Which is why I don't make resolutions.

Anywho, here they are:

1. Quit smoking. For reals.
-Now I know that everyone has this one, but I've been trying for over a month now. I'm getting closer, but the success rate lowers considerably when I get around alcohol. This is a few times a week. Therefore, success has been minimal at best.
Have to shake the proverbial monkey off once and for all. Dammit.
2. Improve my outlook/attitude towards people and life in general.
-Here's a little quote that best described me a few weeks ago.
"Kat, some of the other students consider you rather..."
"Tempestuous?"
"Heinous bitch, is the term used most often. You might want to work on that."
End scene.

Now, as much as I like to fancy myself as "tempestuous" and charming, I have the feeling that before the Christmas break, every person who came into contact with me would have gone with heinous bitch.
And that is not good.

So, here's the plan.
Try to not get so worked up all the time about little annoyances.
Try to not want to stab things.
Baby steps, people.

Thanks, NMP. Maybe some of your spirit has crept into my shriveled little black heart.

Circle Yes, No, or Maybe

2007-12-30T17:30:00.000-08:00

Last night you asked me to be your girlfriend. I responded with a snarky comment about how I wouldn't circle "yes" on other boys' papers.
Last night you told me again how beautiful you think I am. I shook my head no.
Last night you asked to hold me. I told you, rather sharply, not to ask.
Last night you told me words of wisdom that your father passed to you before he passed away. I rolled onto you and buried my head in your neck.
This morning you said I looked even more beautiful than last night. I smiled as a non-believer would.
This morning you expressed how much you care for me, thanked me for being me, and lavished praise on me.
I laid there like I was receiving a punishment.

Thank you sir, may I have another?

Last night I didn't say "yes", or "thank you", or "of course". I didn't say how sorry I am that you had to lose your father at such a young age. I didn't say how amazing I think you are, or how strong, or how undeserving I sometimes feel of your affection.
This morning I didn't say that I think you're truly beautiful, both inside and out. I didn't say that I feel the same for you, or thank you for hanging in there with me. I didn't tell you how I admire your ability to be open and honest and emotional, even if it may scare me a little. I didn't say that I missed you before you left. I didn't look you in the eyes.
I didn't say anything at all.

What I really want to say is this: Please don't mistake my silence for indifference.

My fortress walls are cracking.
This time, I think I'm going to let them break.

Into the void.

2007-12-05T07:30:00.000-08:00

This is just a test.
To see if this works, and also if I actually am going to go through with this.
Let's see.