I don't know if there's anyone out there reading anymore.
If you are, you will be pleased to know that I had French Toast for lunch. French Toast, however, is not enough to kill a wicked bad mood. I thought it would, but it didn't.
It's been the worst science day ever. I could go on about radioactivity and broken cell harvesters and my missing boss and the girl who ran my blot through with my film, but I'll just say I'm glad its the weekend and next week is going to suck. And I was in a vile mood before any of this even happened.
My sister is coming this weekend, just in time. She will be enough to kill a wicked bad mood.
Last night I went out for drinks with the work folks. Their peer pressure is so effective. I shouldn't have. I haven't been this tired ever.
One interesting thing about last night: there is a girl with whom I work who is a liberal. We are all, obviously, liberals in New York City. So we're talking about Bush being a moron (as we always do) and JesusLand and I said "We really need to have another Bill Clinton." I was going on about charisma and intelligence and the
Al Gore Robot Quotient etc., and this girl said "Yeah, but Bill Clinton with more moral integrity."
Whoa.
It was suddenly 1998 and there we were screaming about Monica Lewinsky and blow jobs and sex in the office and whether cheating on your wife means you are also lying to the country. I felt sort of bad for her because it was 10:1, but really. Her bad for bringing that up now.
It's 5:15. Only 45... more... minutes....
Friday, November 12, 2004
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Tired
So. Very. Tired.
I got into work at nearly 8 am on Tuesday and Wednesday. Back in the day I used to get up at 8:45.
And then I left well after ten hours of work on Tuesday, and yesterday was 10 hours.
One of the many crazy things about this place is that people get alarmed if they see you after 6pm. Like "Whoa - do people know you're here? Make sure people know you're here so you don't get locked in! What are you doing here?" I remember the days of feeling guilty about leaving before 6pm.
And then I didn't get home until after midnight both nights.
I'm just not used to this anymore. Because I am an old lady.
The people in the bay, right now, are talking about cupcakes.
I intended to go for drinks tonight with Intimate Apparel, but I am a zombie and would be (and have) no fun. We have postponed until Tuesday. Which is hilarious, because we've been trying to set this up since the Red Sox beat the Yankees. Busy busy busy.
Oh! But now the people in my bay are talking about shoes! Which is acceptable.
Last night after class I went out for dinner with new friend E. It was nice. It was the first time I've hung out with someone non-work-related or non-past since moving to NYC. He said "Have you gotten to the point where you're like 'Where the fuck am I?'" which was fabulous, because I hit that point on Friday night when I nearly stood up in the bar and yelled "Where the fuck am I? Who are you people? What have I done!??!" It was nice to learn that somebody understood that. The person I was with on Friday night didn't understand the surreal quotient of such a situation, so I didn't get to stand up and yell those things. Darn him for being a more adjusted and less melodramatic person than I am. And darn him for having a job where he gets to discuss "villains." Again, jealous.
Last night E also said "I have a blog, and its weird because people don't call you as much when you have a blog because they think they know everything about you. And then when they do talk to you, they're like 'Oh, man, it was crazy when you did X' because they read about it, or they'll say 'Yeah, I know already, I read about it on your blog.'"
Preach on.
I got into work at nearly 8 am on Tuesday and Wednesday. Back in the day I used to get up at 8:45.
And then I left well after ten hours of work on Tuesday, and yesterday was 10 hours.
One of the many crazy things about this place is that people get alarmed if they see you after 6pm. Like "Whoa - do people know you're here? Make sure people know you're here so you don't get locked in! What are you doing here?" I remember the days of feeling guilty about leaving before 6pm.
And then I didn't get home until after midnight both nights.
I'm just not used to this anymore. Because I am an old lady.
The people in the bay, right now, are talking about cupcakes.
I intended to go for drinks tonight with Intimate Apparel, but I am a zombie and would be (and have) no fun. We have postponed until Tuesday. Which is hilarious, because we've been trying to set this up since the Red Sox beat the Yankees. Busy busy busy.
Oh! But now the people in my bay are talking about shoes! Which is acceptable.
Last night after class I went out for dinner with new friend E. It was nice. It was the first time I've hung out with someone non-work-related or non-past since moving to NYC. He said "Have you gotten to the point where you're like 'Where the fuck am I?'" which was fabulous, because I hit that point on Friday night when I nearly stood up in the bar and yelled "Where the fuck am I? Who are you people? What have I done!??!" It was nice to learn that somebody understood that. The person I was with on Friday night didn't understand the surreal quotient of such a situation, so I didn't get to stand up and yell those things. Darn him for being a more adjusted and less melodramatic person than I am. And darn him for having a job where he gets to discuss "villains." Again, jealous.
Last night E also said "I have a blog, and its weird because people don't call you as much when you have a blog because they think they know everything about you. And then when they do talk to you, they're like 'Oh, man, it was crazy when you did X' because they read about it, or they'll say 'Yeah, I know already, I read about it on your blog.'"
Preach on.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Wednesday
I had a dream last night in which I got my hair dyed pink. It was adorable. It matched my coat. I was very cute and very Gwen. I am wondering if you can bleach your hair, then dye it black twice, then bleach it again and then dye it pink without your hair falling out.
Last night Roommate and I went to see Modest Mouse at Radio City Music Hall.
Roommate said "It's weird that Modest Mouse is at Radio City Music Hall."
I said "It is weird that we are at Radio City Music Hall." Because it was. It was very festive and holiday-ish and bizarre and NY. Roommate said that she once saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular Whatever and was mortified first by a nativity scene and then by a wise man in said nativity scene whose robe was decorated with the American flag. Sadly we didn't see any rockettes or reindeer or Jesuses or anything.
My review: crisp. Amazing live band. Elegantly and perfectly executed. Totally wrong venu, though, and the new album must be really bad. I only recognized two songs (which were old and therefore good) and the rest I was either lukewarm about or hated. Roommate said "Man, I know they have a lot of mellow shit, but I really wish they rocked more" whereas I was thinking "Man, I know they have a lot of rock shit, but I wish they played more of the moody and chill stuff." Which suggests to me that the new album is an intermediate and therefore inferior hybrid of old stuff. The lead singer - I think his name is Isaac? - was a spazz, though, and the definition of rock star.
Also.
I must be at that age where I get annoyed with people very easily. When R and I went to see Aimee Mann, there was this weird phenomenon at the show - people making out. Now, people making out at a show isn't weird unto itself - but at Aimee Mann? That music makes you want to slit your wrists, be introverted, sad, alone, etc. Not make out. It is not make out music.
Last night, there was a makeout session going on in front of us between two people who had to have been from New Jersey. They were not from New York. No way. The girl had atrocious hair and really big glasses and no sense of style. The dude had a mullet and too-tight jeans. When they weren't making out, the boyfriend was tapping the girl's ass to the beat. And not light tapping - like slapping her ass. Roommate claims that at one point the chick yelled "You are so coooool!" to the band. It would have been entertaining to make fun of them if this hadn't been constant, but an hour plus of this is unbearable.
Also at the show were many dizzy bitches who were dancing frenetically for no good reason. Hippies. Yeah.
And also at the show were many pompous music dicks, such as the dude behind me who was saying things like "Isaac's placement on the stage is always so interesting - see - he tends to position himself on the right which suggests blah blah fru fru shi shi wah wah..." Ugh.
One other thing: this past Friday I went for a drink with a friend. During the conversation, he said "I'm really excited about the villian in our next movie... he's blah blah blah." I immediately interrupted him and said "Did you just say 'villain?'" I don't know what it was that struck me about the word villain - I guess its that its a fabulous and loaded word that you don't get to use in every day conversation, unless, of course, you are my friend and you have the sort of job that involves "villians." (Me = JEALOUS)
I want to use the word "villain" now, so here you go:
Damn you, Al Gore, for creating this internet!!!
The internet has really left us all quite vulnerable to slipping into psychotic behavior really easily. Within the last week, three people (myself included) have become aware of certain information we were not meant to know through the internet.
As my fabulous friend R said yesterday "Back in the day, you had to be clever about these things - lipstick on the collar, a found earring - but now?!?! NO! It's all out there!"
And it is. There's no subtlety. There's no questions. We can all be stalkers now and its so damn easy!
In my case, I wasn't stalking. It was a total mistake. Totally blindsided.
The other cases involved stalking. As in "He's been online for hours and he's ignoring my emails!" or "You will not BELIEVE what he posted on MySpace!" or "I am going to fucking KILL MY EX. The internet is EVIL!" or "Why is he online? What is he doing?!"
Back in the day you went out with a guy and then you talked on the phone a few days later. Or maybe the next day. I don't know. I suck at dating. But now, its like you go on a date and then you ask yourself "Are they still dating? What is the status of their profile? When was the last time they were online? Why are they online? What are they doing!??!?! Are they still other profiles?" Angst, psychotic behavior, stalking.
People are driving themselves crazy.
Or, as another friend pointed out, internet dating is like alcoholism. As soon as things get bad with life or the relationship you're in, you post your profile (or, to carry on the analogy, hit the bottle, off the wagon, etc.) or email someone to make yourself feel better. And then all hell breaks loose, because your ex sees you, or your current significant other sees you, or whatever else.
Nonsense.
It was so much easier when we didn't have the ability to see what people were doing every second of the day.
Then again, some of us just blatantly expose ourselves every second of the day by having a blog, which is fine. ;)
Last night Roommate and I went to see Modest Mouse at Radio City Music Hall.
Roommate said "It's weird that Modest Mouse is at Radio City Music Hall."
I said "It is weird that we are at Radio City Music Hall." Because it was. It was very festive and holiday-ish and bizarre and NY. Roommate said that she once saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular Whatever and was mortified first by a nativity scene and then by a wise man in said nativity scene whose robe was decorated with the American flag. Sadly we didn't see any rockettes or reindeer or Jesuses or anything.
My review: crisp. Amazing live band. Elegantly and perfectly executed. Totally wrong venu, though, and the new album must be really bad. I only recognized two songs (which were old and therefore good) and the rest I was either lukewarm about or hated. Roommate said "Man, I know they have a lot of mellow shit, but I really wish they rocked more" whereas I was thinking "Man, I know they have a lot of rock shit, but I wish they played more of the moody and chill stuff." Which suggests to me that the new album is an intermediate and therefore inferior hybrid of old stuff. The lead singer - I think his name is Isaac? - was a spazz, though, and the definition of rock star.
Also.
I must be at that age where I get annoyed with people very easily. When R and I went to see Aimee Mann, there was this weird phenomenon at the show - people making out. Now, people making out at a show isn't weird unto itself - but at Aimee Mann? That music makes you want to slit your wrists, be introverted, sad, alone, etc. Not make out. It is not make out music.
Last night, there was a makeout session going on in front of us between two people who had to have been from New Jersey. They were not from New York. No way. The girl had atrocious hair and really big glasses and no sense of style. The dude had a mullet and too-tight jeans. When they weren't making out, the boyfriend was tapping the girl's ass to the beat. And not light tapping - like slapping her ass. Roommate claims that at one point the chick yelled "You are so coooool!" to the band. It would have been entertaining to make fun of them if this hadn't been constant, but an hour plus of this is unbearable.
Also at the show were many dizzy bitches who were dancing frenetically for no good reason. Hippies. Yeah.
And also at the show were many pompous music dicks, such as the dude behind me who was saying things like "Isaac's placement on the stage is always so interesting - see - he tends to position himself on the right which suggests blah blah fru fru shi shi wah wah..." Ugh.
One other thing: this past Friday I went for a drink with a friend. During the conversation, he said "I'm really excited about the villian in our next movie... he's blah blah blah." I immediately interrupted him and said "Did you just say 'villain?'" I don't know what it was that struck me about the word villain - I guess its that its a fabulous and loaded word that you don't get to use in every day conversation, unless, of course, you are my friend and you have the sort of job that involves "villians." (Me = JEALOUS)
I want to use the word "villain" now, so here you go:
SuperVillain of the Week = THE INTERNET
Damn you, Al Gore, for creating this internet!!!
The internet has really left us all quite vulnerable to slipping into psychotic behavior really easily. Within the last week, three people (myself included) have become aware of certain information we were not meant to know through the internet.
As my fabulous friend R said yesterday "Back in the day, you had to be clever about these things - lipstick on the collar, a found earring - but now?!?! NO! It's all out there!"
And it is. There's no subtlety. There's no questions. We can all be stalkers now and its so damn easy!
In my case, I wasn't stalking. It was a total mistake. Totally blindsided.
The other cases involved stalking. As in "He's been online for hours and he's ignoring my emails!" or "You will not BELIEVE what he posted on MySpace!" or "I am going to fucking KILL MY EX. The internet is EVIL!" or "Why is he online? What is he doing?!"
Back in the day you went out with a guy and then you talked on the phone a few days later. Or maybe the next day. I don't know. I suck at dating. But now, its like you go on a date and then you ask yourself "Are they still dating? What is the status of their profile? When was the last time they were online? Why are they online? What are they doing!??!?! Are they still other profiles?" Angst, psychotic behavior, stalking.
People are driving themselves crazy.
Or, as another friend pointed out, internet dating is like alcoholism. As soon as things get bad with life or the relationship you're in, you post your profile (or, to carry on the analogy, hit the bottle, off the wagon, etc.) or email someone to make yourself feel better. And then all hell breaks loose, because your ex sees you, or your current significant other sees you, or whatever else.
Nonsense.
It was so much easier when we didn't have the ability to see what people were doing every second of the day.
Then again, some of us just blatantly expose ourselves every second of the day by having a blog, which is fine. ;)
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
I'm Fine
I just want you all to know that I will be fine. Just fine! I just need a day to process this. I have to go over 10 years of nonsense and deal with it for the first time ever and then be done with it.
I am sad but I'll live. Thanks to all of you!!!!
Also.
The people in my bay talk about one of three things: food, kids, or dogs.
Right now it is dogs. There is all sorts of dog talk and giggling. I am having a hard time concentrating today for obvious reasons so I've been sitting here staring at a pile of work that needs to be done while listening to this. I don't understand. Dogs! Hee heeee!!!!!!
This, however, is acceptable in light of what was overheard yesterday in my bay: "I brought in a book about breast feeding for you!"
Hee heeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am sad but I'll live. Thanks to all of you!!!!
Also.
The people in my bay talk about one of three things: food, kids, or dogs.
Right now it is dogs. There is all sorts of dog talk and giggling. I am having a hard time concentrating today for obvious reasons so I've been sitting here staring at a pile of work that needs to be done while listening to this. I don't understand. Dogs! Hee heeee!!!!!!
This, however, is acceptable in light of what was overheard yesterday in my bay: "I brought in a book about breast feeding for you!"
Hee heeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Best Thing In the World Is....
Having amazing girlfriends who will bash men with you.
I adore you all.
I adore you all.
Tuesday (Caution: Personal Content; Melodrama; Read at Your Own Risk)
I posted a long melodramatic and entirely too personal entry yesterday regarding my horrible weekend. I didn't publish it because it was too personal and should therefore remain so.
This being said, I am so upset right now I might just publish it anyway, and if I do, I'll tell you not to read it. I just need to do it for myself, because its going to take me a while to write a song good enough to express how this feels.
For now, dear readers, I will leave you with this entirely too personal blog.
I guess its just easy to do things that are familiar, even if the familiar things are bad. At least they're comfortable. When you're new to a place and unsettled, you'll find solace in the familiar, even if the familiar has the potential to rip your heart out and remind you of a person you used to be and who you're desperately trying not to be anymore. At least, though, its you and not some confused bizarre you with no identity because you are anonymous in NYC.
I'm all melodrama right now. I just lost a ten-year-friendship, probably the most important friendship I've ever had with anyone, on a Tuesday afternoon. Man. Instead of thinking about how pissed I am, I am thinking about how he brought me a Hershey Bar with Almonds when I was staying with my parents after things ended with The Sandwich Who Shall Not Be Named and I wasn't eating. I am thinking about how I never felt unsafe with him. I am thinking about how, one time when he was drunk, I asked him if he'd ever love me again and the perfect slurred response he gave.
I am thinking about how I called my mother last night to tell her what happened. I said, trying not to cry, "Ma - I need your advice - this is what happened - Favorite Ex-Boyfriend came to visit this weekend..."
She gasped and then sighed on the other end of the line, because I know how she feels about him and about us and the gasp betrayed all of the optimism she tries so hard to hide.
I had to say "No, actually..." and then told her everything about us. About how this very thing happened before and how I flipped out and how that time I was 25 years old and how I am (and we are) a stupid ridiculous pathetic pattern.
She was so disappointed. My mother is the only person who has ever encouraged me to continue having any sort of relationship with him (friendship or otherwise) because she adores him, and because she, like me, is far too patient with people, especially when people are not being nice to her.
I inherited my delusions from my mother.
And its awesome, because I just received a nonchalant email from him, my response to which has confirmed that I am insane and stupid and self-loathing, because all I can do is be delusional and miss the candy-bar-bringing memory of him.
This being said, I am so upset right now I might just publish it anyway, and if I do, I'll tell you not to read it. I just need to do it for myself, because its going to take me a while to write a song good enough to express how this feels.
For now, dear readers, I will leave you with this entirely too personal blog.
I guess its just easy to do things that are familiar, even if the familiar things are bad. At least they're comfortable. When you're new to a place and unsettled, you'll find solace in the familiar, even if the familiar has the potential to rip your heart out and remind you of a person you used to be and who you're desperately trying not to be anymore. At least, though, its you and not some confused bizarre you with no identity because you are anonymous in NYC.
I'm all melodrama right now. I just lost a ten-year-friendship, probably the most important friendship I've ever had with anyone, on a Tuesday afternoon. Man. Instead of thinking about how pissed I am, I am thinking about how he brought me a Hershey Bar with Almonds when I was staying with my parents after things ended with The Sandwich Who Shall Not Be Named and I wasn't eating. I am thinking about how I never felt unsafe with him. I am thinking about how, one time when he was drunk, I asked him if he'd ever love me again and the perfect slurred response he gave.
I am thinking about how I called my mother last night to tell her what happened. I said, trying not to cry, "Ma - I need your advice - this is what happened - Favorite Ex-Boyfriend came to visit this weekend..."
She gasped and then sighed on the other end of the line, because I know how she feels about him and about us and the gasp betrayed all of the optimism she tries so hard to hide.
I had to say "No, actually..." and then told her everything about us. About how this very thing happened before and how I flipped out and how that time I was 25 years old and how I am (and we are) a stupid ridiculous pathetic pattern.
She was so disappointed. My mother is the only person who has ever encouraged me to continue having any sort of relationship with him (friendship or otherwise) because she adores him, and because she, like me, is far too patient with people, especially when people are not being nice to her.
I inherited my delusions from my mother.
And its awesome, because I just received a nonchalant email from him, my response to which has confirmed that I am insane and stupid and self-loathing, because all I can do is be delusional and miss the candy-bar-bringing memory of him.
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