The talk of the lab today is my fabulous new haircut. I decided to go back to S, for whom I was a hair model ages ago at the fancy schmancy salon downstairs and who gave me the best haircut I've ever had.
S cut my hair way back when - maybe in January? I needed to have it cut a few months later (too long), and went to the Aveda Academy and hated the haircut. That's when D "fixed it," thus resulting in my having to grow it out for a few more months (torture) and get another haircut at the Aveda Academy, which I also hated, but I can't really blame anyone because they didn't really have anything to work with but 4 zillion different lengths of hair.
I grew that one out a bit, and went to see S this morning to get a haircut with style. We're talking bangs, folks, which she and her teacher called "fringe."
I came back to work (two and a half hours later, which was good given that last time she cut my hair it took three and a half hours) and everyone was very excited. Even the men!
JG is a kid who used to work in my department. He was sadly re-structured into another department but thankfully still works only three bays away. He's a true New Yorker - born and raised in the hood in Queens, complete with uncle who is his own age. Despite having gone to college at BC, he retains his Queens accent and sensibilities but for some reason digs Phil Collins. JG, who performed karaoke for the first time in honor of my birthday despite being scared to death, is awesome on many levels, but is my new favorite person on the planet.
He said "Did you do something different with your hair?"
"I just got a haircut at the fancy schmancy salon downstairs."
"Oh, it looks pretty."
Pretty!!!
Who says that anymore!?
I think I blushed. I didn't know what to say. I said "Awww... shucks..." and truly meant it.
Words like those make the days of 30 year olds with insecurities about their hairstyles and their fading looks. The beauty of this sort of thing is that people like JG don't even know that they're making people's days. They're just honest and cute and unafraid.
Happy, I am.
Pretty! Weeee!
Friday, June 16, 2006
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I Think I Need A New Heart (For Real)
I couldn't sleep last night.
I experience phases of insomnia.
This isn't one of them. I couldn't sleep last night because we dined with D's cousins and her friends until midnight. I was a zombie by 11:00, and luckily D's astute cousin realized and was trying to extract for about half an hour before we made our escape.
I was still a zombie when we got home, and by the time my head hit the pillow at about 1:00 am I was, of course, wide awake, having missed my sleep window and also done myself a great injustice by eating post-10:00, which is something I try to avoid as I know I will not sleep.
Last night was particularly vexing as there was nothing I could do to combat the sleeplessness. Normally, when unable to sleep, I sneak out of the bedroom with pillow and alarm clock once D has fallen asleep, and watch TV or read until I pass out on the couch. This was not an option last night as D's cousin was sleeping on the couch. D was dead asleep as well, forcing me to sit with eyes wide open in the dark for an hour trying to figure out what to do.
I contemplated going for a walk, but I'm always afraid that will freak D out. I listened to my Learn Italian Podcast for a bit but have decided that I hate the guy and therefore was only more agitated.
Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to think of sweet, comforting, and relaxing things. My thoughts somehow turned to Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend last night and I thought about how adorable he used to be when I couldn't sleep, and how he was always available when I was sad or distressed or stressed. I could call him at any hour and he would appear and stay up with me. He would talk to me or just be there or try to distract me until I fell asleep. He also used to squeeze my head when I had headaches until it felt better, and he would do this for eternity if that's what it took to make me feel better. I wasn't ready for him. I was too young and too critical and I didn't appreciate these things and instead focused on the bad.
Of course there were bad things. Really bad things.
I then got to thinking about Most Hated Ex-Boyfriend, and thought of how he always knew just what to say and how he'd call when he knew I was down and how he could cheer me up with a nickname. He would sing a silly song. He'd make up alternate lyrics. He always knew exactly what to say without my having to tell him. He was my biggest fan. I've never had more self esteem in my life than when I was with him and it was at that time that I should have had none.
Of course there were bad things. Really really bad things.
I've been thinking about these two men a lot lately, and I'm not quite sure why. I think in a lot of ways I was spoiled by having men who knew me effortlessly and who adored and satisfied me without my having to make demands. I never had to ask with these men. I've never had to ask anyone until now.
I've experienced extremes. I've been lucky to have been felt the sweetness and devotion and caring of which men are capable, and have been cursed to have experienced the supreme depravity to which they can succomb.
D wants us to just forget past relationships. "None of that matters," he says. "It's us now, and that's all that matters, right?"
I understand where he's coming from. Baggage is bad. I don't want baggage, but I have a ton. Seriously. Tons, even. The hurt still hurts (though not as much) but lately I can't seem to shake thoughts of the lovely things that I wish to still have.
I wanted to wake D up and to say "D, I can't sleep. Will you talk to me about something to take my mind off it?" but I didn't want to wake him. I also didn't want to have to ask, because I didn't use to have to ask. I used to call or look at him and he would know what was going on without my saying a word and know what to do and make me so very happy and make me feel so very loved.
How can I just forget that feeling?
And how do I ask for things? I'm not good at asking for things and I don't know why. Of course he would stay up and hang out with me. I'm sure he would be glad to. Maybe I just want him to want to, and having to ask makes me feel like he doesn't want to.
But that's not really the case, right?
He just needs to be told, and I need to learn how to tell him what I need.
I'm so too old for this.
OK. Off to class, and I don't know where to go for dinner because Pita Pit, my normal pre-class provider of meals, has been closed by the Department of Mental Health and Hygiene. Awesome.
I experience phases of insomnia.
This isn't one of them. I couldn't sleep last night because we dined with D's cousins and her friends until midnight. I was a zombie by 11:00, and luckily D's astute cousin realized and was trying to extract for about half an hour before we made our escape.
I was still a zombie when we got home, and by the time my head hit the pillow at about 1:00 am I was, of course, wide awake, having missed my sleep window and also done myself a great injustice by eating post-10:00, which is something I try to avoid as I know I will not sleep.
Last night was particularly vexing as there was nothing I could do to combat the sleeplessness. Normally, when unable to sleep, I sneak out of the bedroom with pillow and alarm clock once D has fallen asleep, and watch TV or read until I pass out on the couch. This was not an option last night as D's cousin was sleeping on the couch. D was dead asleep as well, forcing me to sit with eyes wide open in the dark for an hour trying to figure out what to do.
I contemplated going for a walk, but I'm always afraid that will freak D out. I listened to my Learn Italian Podcast for a bit but have decided that I hate the guy and therefore was only more agitated.
Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to think of sweet, comforting, and relaxing things. My thoughts somehow turned to Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend last night and I thought about how adorable he used to be when I couldn't sleep, and how he was always available when I was sad or distressed or stressed. I could call him at any hour and he would appear and stay up with me. He would talk to me or just be there or try to distract me until I fell asleep. He also used to squeeze my head when I had headaches until it felt better, and he would do this for eternity if that's what it took to make me feel better. I wasn't ready for him. I was too young and too critical and I didn't appreciate these things and instead focused on the bad.
Of course there were bad things. Really bad things.
I then got to thinking about Most Hated Ex-Boyfriend, and thought of how he always knew just what to say and how he'd call when he knew I was down and how he could cheer me up with a nickname. He would sing a silly song. He'd make up alternate lyrics. He always knew exactly what to say without my having to tell him. He was my biggest fan. I've never had more self esteem in my life than when I was with him and it was at that time that I should have had none.
Of course there were bad things. Really really bad things.
I've been thinking about these two men a lot lately, and I'm not quite sure why. I think in a lot of ways I was spoiled by having men who knew me effortlessly and who adored and satisfied me without my having to make demands. I never had to ask with these men. I've never had to ask anyone until now.
I've experienced extremes. I've been lucky to have been felt the sweetness and devotion and caring of which men are capable, and have been cursed to have experienced the supreme depravity to which they can succomb.
D wants us to just forget past relationships. "None of that matters," he says. "It's us now, and that's all that matters, right?"
I understand where he's coming from. Baggage is bad. I don't want baggage, but I have a ton. Seriously. Tons, even. The hurt still hurts (though not as much) but lately I can't seem to shake thoughts of the lovely things that I wish to still have.
I wanted to wake D up and to say "D, I can't sleep. Will you talk to me about something to take my mind off it?" but I didn't want to wake him. I also didn't want to have to ask, because I didn't use to have to ask. I used to call or look at him and he would know what was going on without my saying a word and know what to do and make me so very happy and make me feel so very loved.
How can I just forget that feeling?
And how do I ask for things? I'm not good at asking for things and I don't know why. Of course he would stay up and hang out with me. I'm sure he would be glad to. Maybe I just want him to want to, and having to ask makes me feel like he doesn't want to.
But that's not really the case, right?
He just needs to be told, and I need to learn how to tell him what I need.
I'm so too old for this.
OK. Off to class, and I don't know where to go for dinner because Pita Pit, my normal pre-class provider of meals, has been closed by the Department of Mental Health and Hygiene. Awesome.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Routine
I have discovered that I don't like to do things that I have to do.
Yesterday I said "How is it that people work out? It's so boring."
D answered "Yes, it is, but once it becomes part of your routine it won't seem boring. It will just be part of the routine."
"But I don't want it to part of the routine! I don't want there to be a routine!" I said.
And I realized then that I don't want a routine.
I don't want anything to be predictable. I don't want anything to be expected. I don't want anything to be required unless, of course, I get paid for it.
I said "Wait! I think I've discovered the source of all my problems in life! I don't want a routine. Maybe this is why I change jobs every couple of years and why I get bored with things after two years! Like in college I wanted to transfer after two years! And I move into different apartments a lot! And I get crazy in relationships after a couple years."
D, sullen.
"Not that I will get bored of us, of course, because you are a source of endless excitement and unpredictability, always enriching my otherwise mundane life!"
D, smiling.
Seriously, though, I think I don't like routine. This is why I don't watch TV shows. This is why I have a hard time taking classes, because I hate having to go to them. I want to go when I want to go, not because I have to. I like flexibility. I like coming and going as I please. I like making plans when I want to and not making them when I feel like doing nothing.
I don't know what any of this means. I'm wondering if I'd be a more satisfied person if my life had some sort of structure or routine. Maybe I need a minor routine - like on Wednesdays I try new recipes for dinner but they will change from week to week and will therefore seem less routine-like. Or perhaps Thursday will be piano night when I will have to write a song. Perhaps I'll feel more accomplished and less aimless.
Or maybe I'll feel all claustrophobic and enslaved to the routine and as though I have no flexibility in my own life.
OK.
I'm insane.
Until tomorrow.
Yesterday I said "How is it that people work out? It's so boring."
D answered "Yes, it is, but once it becomes part of your routine it won't seem boring. It will just be part of the routine."
"But I don't want it to part of the routine! I don't want there to be a routine!" I said.
And I realized then that I don't want a routine.
I don't want anything to be predictable. I don't want anything to be expected. I don't want anything to be required unless, of course, I get paid for it.
I said "Wait! I think I've discovered the source of all my problems in life! I don't want a routine. Maybe this is why I change jobs every couple of years and why I get bored with things after two years! Like in college I wanted to transfer after two years! And I move into different apartments a lot! And I get crazy in relationships after a couple years."
D, sullen.
"Not that I will get bored of us, of course, because you are a source of endless excitement and unpredictability, always enriching my otherwise mundane life!"
D, smiling.
Seriously, though, I think I don't like routine. This is why I don't watch TV shows. This is why I have a hard time taking classes, because I hate having to go to them. I want to go when I want to go, not because I have to. I like flexibility. I like coming and going as I please. I like making plans when I want to and not making them when I feel like doing nothing.
I don't know what any of this means. I'm wondering if I'd be a more satisfied person if my life had some sort of structure or routine. Maybe I need a minor routine - like on Wednesdays I try new recipes for dinner but they will change from week to week and will therefore seem less routine-like. Or perhaps Thursday will be piano night when I will have to write a song. Perhaps I'll feel more accomplished and less aimless.
Or maybe I'll feel all claustrophobic and enslaved to the routine and as though I have no flexibility in my own life.
OK.
I'm insane.
Until tomorrow.
Pants
D and I are going to a party this weekend to celebrate a civil union. The attire will be "smart summer casual," or "no suits" but "not too casual."
D has one suit with pin-striped pants.
He has three pairs of non-jeans that are frayed at the bottom.
And one pair of jeans.
PW said "He could wear his suit pants with a funky shirt and flip flops!"
Ummmm.
D decided that it was time for new pants.
Knowing D, I expected this to be an ordeal - a neverending exercise in particulars. I agreed to meet him at H & M post-work last night at 6:45. We went back and forth for ages trying to agree on a time and place (Macy's? H & M? Gap?) to meet because he didn't bring his phone to work. We decided on H & M on 34th Street because it would be the cheapest and if we found something there, then we wouldn't need to bother with the other more expensive places at all.
I got there early at around 6:40. He'd said something about going inside to look on his own if he got there early, so I went in just to see if he was there. He wasn't, so I went back outside.
The last thing anyone wants to do is to stand on 34th Street, waiting. Two minutes of this will throw anyone into a murderous rage, directed at both tourists and commuters alike.
I stood outside for another five minutes, staring down the Mr. Softee that was on 7th Avenue. I was determined to overcome Softee, but decided that a soft serve cone would really help me survive the waiting process.
While I was eating the ice cream, a woman approached me, nearly drooling, and said "Where did you get that?" I said "Right there..." and pointed to Softee, who was a mere 15 feet from us. I smiled at her. She said nothing and walked away and didn't even stop at the truck. Wtf!? She had super powers. But why ask at all? I have no idea.
I waited until 6:59 and was starting to get cross. Where was he? I had no way to get in touch with him and decided that I would just leave at 7:00, because I think waiting for 15 minutes on 34th Street without the option of cell phone contact is more than enough.
At 7:00 my cell phone rang. It was D, calling from a pay phone.
"Where are you?"
"At H & M."
"Are you here?"
"Yes. Well, wait, where are you? Are you here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone."
"Yes, but where?"
"Right outside H & M."
"Do you see me?"
"I'm looking for green. Are you wearing green? I thought you were wearing green."
"No, I'm wearing a baby blue hoodie over it, but nevertheless I don't see you. Are you here?"
"Yes, I'm outside."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone! Where are you?"
"Outside! I don't see you!"
"Wait! Are there two H & M's? Are we at the same one?"
"I'm at the one on 34th Street."
"Me too."
"I don't think you're here. Seriously. Do you see me? I've been here for like 20 minutes."
"Me too."
"Well, I don't think you're here."
"I went inside a couple times to look for you."
"Me too. I was looking for you but I didn't see you in there."
"34th and Broadway?"
"Yes... no... wait.... I'm at 34th and 7th."
"Oh."
Oh. So apparently there are two H & M's on 34th Street that are like a block and a half from one another. RIDICULOUS.
So the pants.
He tried on two pairs that didn't quite fit and bought them anyway and that was that.
Amazing.
He kept asking me what I thought and I said things like "They're too short" or "They seem too tight" and he agreed and bought them anyway because he didn't want to shop.
I don't really understand how men's pants are supposed to fit. The things we look for as women don't really apply at all. Men don't seem to have asses while wearing pants and the shape of the leg seems inconsequential. "These ones don't showcase what an awesome ass you have" and "I think you need a looser fit to showcase your shape" but what on earth do I know about men's pants?
We ended up going to Macy's anyway and he bought two more pairs, fashion show with non-non-flattering shirt pending. The lady at Macy's said he needed a "tapered leg" to give him some shape so we had to go to the, ahem, designer section.
We had fun but we were starving to death by the end of it.
I didn't get home until about 9:00 and didn't eat gnocchi with butter/sage/cheese sauce until 9:45. Praise Softee! I think I ate 3x the allowed carbs but whatever. I had to eat that many carbs because SM was supposed to come to dinner tonight and is not, and I had to use the ingredients. I was going to ignore the diet to dine with my rockstar pal who is "just back from australia" and "not touring for june" and breaking plans with old friends because he needs money, which is understandable.
And then we watched DeNiro... er... I mean, Godfather 2, and I fell asleep at 11:00. Wooo!
D has one suit with pin-striped pants.
He has three pairs of non-jeans that are frayed at the bottom.
And one pair of jeans.
PW said "He could wear his suit pants with a funky shirt and flip flops!"
Ummmm.
D decided that it was time for new pants.
Knowing D, I expected this to be an ordeal - a neverending exercise in particulars. I agreed to meet him at H & M post-work last night at 6:45. We went back and forth for ages trying to agree on a time and place (Macy's? H & M? Gap?) to meet because he didn't bring his phone to work. We decided on H & M on 34th Street because it would be the cheapest and if we found something there, then we wouldn't need to bother with the other more expensive places at all.
I got there early at around 6:40. He'd said something about going inside to look on his own if he got there early, so I went in just to see if he was there. He wasn't, so I went back outside.
The last thing anyone wants to do is to stand on 34th Street, waiting. Two minutes of this will throw anyone into a murderous rage, directed at both tourists and commuters alike.
I stood outside for another five minutes, staring down the Mr. Softee that was on 7th Avenue. I was determined to overcome Softee, but decided that a soft serve cone would really help me survive the waiting process.
While I was eating the ice cream, a woman approached me, nearly drooling, and said "Where did you get that?" I said "Right there..." and pointed to Softee, who was a mere 15 feet from us. I smiled at her. She said nothing and walked away and didn't even stop at the truck. Wtf!? She had super powers. But why ask at all? I have no idea.
I waited until 6:59 and was starting to get cross. Where was he? I had no way to get in touch with him and decided that I would just leave at 7:00, because I think waiting for 15 minutes on 34th Street without the option of cell phone contact is more than enough.
At 7:00 my cell phone rang. It was D, calling from a pay phone.
"Where are you?"
"At H & M."
"Are you here?"
"Yes. Well, wait, where are you? Are you here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone."
"Yes, but where?"
"Right outside H & M."
"Do you see me?"
"I'm looking for green. Are you wearing green? I thought you were wearing green."
"No, I'm wearing a baby blue hoodie over it, but nevertheless I don't see you. Are you here?"
"Yes, I'm outside."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone! Where are you?"
"Outside! I don't see you!"
"Wait! Are there two H & M's? Are we at the same one?"
"I'm at the one on 34th Street."
"Me too."
"I don't think you're here. Seriously. Do you see me? I've been here for like 20 minutes."
"Me too."
"Well, I don't think you're here."
"I went inside a couple times to look for you."
"Me too. I was looking for you but I didn't see you in there."
"34th and Broadway?"
"Yes... no... wait.... I'm at 34th and 7th."
"Oh."
Oh. So apparently there are two H & M's on 34th Street that are like a block and a half from one another. RIDICULOUS.
So the pants.
He tried on two pairs that didn't quite fit and bought them anyway and that was that.
Amazing.
He kept asking me what I thought and I said things like "They're too short" or "They seem too tight" and he agreed and bought them anyway because he didn't want to shop.
I don't really understand how men's pants are supposed to fit. The things we look for as women don't really apply at all. Men don't seem to have asses while wearing pants and the shape of the leg seems inconsequential. "These ones don't showcase what an awesome ass you have" and "I think you need a looser fit to showcase your shape" but what on earth do I know about men's pants?
We ended up going to Macy's anyway and he bought two more pairs, fashion show with non-non-flattering shirt pending. The lady at Macy's said he needed a "tapered leg" to give him some shape so we had to go to the, ahem, designer section.
We had fun but we were starving to death by the end of it.
I didn't get home until about 9:00 and didn't eat gnocchi with butter/sage/cheese sauce until 9:45. Praise Softee! I think I ate 3x the allowed carbs but whatever. I had to eat that many carbs because SM was supposed to come to dinner tonight and is not, and I had to use the ingredients. I was going to ignore the diet to dine with my rockstar pal who is "just back from australia" and "not touring for june" and breaking plans with old friends because he needs money, which is understandable.
And then we watched DeNiro... er... I mean, Godfather 2, and I fell asleep at 11:00. Wooo!
Guilt Over Returns
Two members of my archless family have recommended to me that I purchase arch supports from a convenience store to help my flat-footedness. Father swears by them (after having converted to them from his custom-made ones that were apparently the source of all of his problems) and Brother bought some prior to coming to visit this past weekend to help him endure the seemingly endless walking in NYC.
I went to Duane Reade on Saturday night and decided to buy blue Dr. Scholl's liquid arch support things that looked really really super awesome.
I wore them for about 7 hours on Sunday (including about 3.5 hours of straight walking) and have never, ever experienced such pain in my feet in my entire life. Oh my god I thought I was going to die. I actually had to take a bus a few blocks just to get a rest! And then I had to go home, sit for like an hour, put on my old ones and then go grocery shopping.
I decided that I would try to return them. I don't know what I was worried about. They could always say "no" to my audacity. D said "You can return anything," which is true so why do I feel so guilty?
I went to Duane Reade last night and was all embarrassed and nervous and expecting some sort of ordeal.
I said "Do you take returns?"
"Yes, but I have no idea how."
She called The Manager.
"I'd like to return this," I said to him.
"OK."
And that was that!
The end.
I wanted to point out the broken packaging.
Or the fact that I'd used the product.
Or the fact that I'd used the product, under my feet, for hours upon hours in New York City.
But he just let me return them, no questions asked.
I feel so very guilty, but I have no idea why.
I went to Duane Reade on Saturday night and decided to buy blue Dr. Scholl's liquid arch support things that looked really really super awesome.
I wore them for about 7 hours on Sunday (including about 3.5 hours of straight walking) and have never, ever experienced such pain in my feet in my entire life. Oh my god I thought I was going to die. I actually had to take a bus a few blocks just to get a rest! And then I had to go home, sit for like an hour, put on my old ones and then go grocery shopping.
I decided that I would try to return them. I don't know what I was worried about. They could always say "no" to my audacity. D said "You can return anything," which is true so why do I feel so guilty?
I went to Duane Reade last night and was all embarrassed and nervous and expecting some sort of ordeal.
I said "Do you take returns?"
"Yes, but I have no idea how."
She called The Manager.
"I'd like to return this," I said to him.
"OK."
And that was that!
The end.
I wanted to point out the broken packaging.
Or the fact that I'd used the product.
Or the fact that I'd used the product, under my feet, for hours upon hours in New York City.
But he just let me return them, no questions asked.
I feel so very guilty, but I have no idea why.
Don Corleone
D saw The Godfather two weeks ago for the first time. He instantly became obsessed and adorably and constantly performed terrible impressions of Marlon Brando that eventually became quite good.
Last night he started watching The Godfather 2. I watched it with him, as The Godfather 2 is amazing and because I've seen it fewer times than The Godfather and still somehow have no idea what's going on.
D kept saying things like "You said The Lars were going to be legitimate in two weeks, and it's been three weeks since you said that! The Lars are ruining this family!" Hilarious.
Anyway, while watching the movie last night, I gasped when DeNiro appeared for the first on film. Seriously. I gasp every time. "Oh my god he's beautiful," I said, hypnotized.
"You really like the flashback scenes."
I think young DeNiro is my ultimate crush. My heart skipped a beat. Hmmmmm.
Last night he started watching The Godfather 2. I watched it with him, as The Godfather 2 is amazing and because I've seen it fewer times than The Godfather and still somehow have no idea what's going on.
D kept saying things like "You said The Lars were going to be legitimate in two weeks, and it's been three weeks since you said that! The Lars are ruining this family!" Hilarious.
Anyway, while watching the movie last night, I gasped when DeNiro appeared for the first on film. Seriously. I gasp every time. "Oh my god he's beautiful," I said, hypnotized.
"You really like the flashback scenes."
I think young DeNiro is my ultimate crush. My heart skipped a beat. Hmmmmm.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Pop!
Oh how I miss Bench Buddy, as I now have nobody with whom to make fun of whatever pop music is playing in the tissue culture room.
The Pop Channel was just running some contest where they played a "Vintage Clip" and if you knew the artist, you would win tickets to some pop event, I think involving Mary J. Blige.
I thought "Man, that's so easy. That's totally Phil Collins. Whatever."
But it wasn't Phil Collins.
It was Ricky Martin.
I don't know what this means.
I'm pretty sure Ricky Martin sounds absolutely nothing like Phil Collins, though.
So it must mean I'm going insane.
The Pop Channel was just running some contest where they played a "Vintage Clip" and if you knew the artist, you would win tickets to some pop event, I think involving Mary J. Blige.
I thought "Man, that's so easy. That's totally Phil Collins. Whatever."
But it wasn't Phil Collins.
It was Ricky Martin.
I don't know what this means.
I'm pretty sure Ricky Martin sounds absolutely nothing like Phil Collins, though.
So it must mean I'm going insane.
Alone in NYC Makes Me Happy
Ah, yes, an utterly fabulous weekend in NYC.
Shopping date on Friday night - tax free day! Shoes for all!
Met up with Brother for dinner at our favorite restaurant where I subsequently ignored the diet and ate a salad (good), pizza (very bad), and gnutella pizza for dessert (most terrible thing imagineable). Attended a party in Brooklyn where it became the smallest of worlds. I still can't get over it. I'll tell the story later, but it's good. I mostly successfully ignored VB who was drunk and hanging, but she is hard to ignore when her boobs are all over the place. Had nice conversations and made lovely plans that will probably never materialize.
Alone on Saturday morning! Cleaned, read, jumped around. Completed Attempt I of Photo-Project-du-Jour and failed, but it didn't matter because the sun was out and I was looking forward to the day.
Went to alleged "garage sale" on 44th Street that was more of a bizarro flea market.
I really wanted to buy this for D just to see how horrified he would be.
Yes, I would like your old hair products which you store atop your microwave.
Headed downtown on appropriate train after realizing that my first two strategies would be invalid due to weekend train nonsense. Snapped this photo and was then befriended by a boy who wanted to discuss my giant camera.
He turned out to be a photographer's assistant - coordinating logistics. Fantasy job, folks. I probed for information but soon determined that he was a bit flakey and just wanted company, which was fine with me, as I hadn't spoken yet that day.
Located Foley Square in order to view filming of Spiderman 3. My friend's son's high school marching band was to be featured in the scene, which is how I knew it was happening. I had no idea where Foley Square was, and wondered how ever I would find it, but knew I had found it when I saw this:
No ambiguity regarding what movie set this was, folks! They were staging some sort of pro-Spiderman rally at which people held signs that said things like "Spiderman for Mayor!" and "We love you Spiderman!" Little kids dressed up as Spidermen, adults wearing red hoodies, etc.
And no, I didn't see Tobey. He was there, though. As was loathesome Kirsten Dunst. I couldn't get close. Believe me, I tried. I tried to get in at every corner and was denied each time. I ended up standing on the stairs of The International Center for Trade of some such building.
I was there for about two hours and nothing happened, other than a camera sliding zip-line style between two really tall buildings. I'll recognize the scene in the movie just from the camera shot.
I had to leave. My coworker said that twenty minutes after I left Spiderman swung into the scene. Like 4000 times. Because they had to do 4000 takes. Hmph.
Her son was hanging out with Topher Grace who will be playing Venom. Her son's friend also said "Kirsten Dunst is uglier in person." Heh. Speaking of Kirsten Dunst... I was told this weekend that Jake Gylenhaal is dating Natalie Portman! What is wrong with that boy?
Headed to MoCCA convention from Spidey set to see Brother at his table. Met up with MF, E, PW+M and braved the crowds.
It was mayhem. I bought far more than I'd intended to buy. I can't wait to read everything! Brother tried to get me things for free by trading his book, but sadly he could not strike a deal. He did, however, buy me a book that I really wanted that I didn't have enough cash for. Awwwwww.
Falafel for MF, E, PW+M anf myself post MoCCA insanity. We talked about weddings and cruises and how did everyone know me? I love friends meeting friends.
Headed back uptown. Spent a fortune at Duane Reade (I need to make a return! how bizarre). Looked at dresses but didn't buy any.
Brother came back earlier than expected because the after-party was lame. We talked about relationships and how they are hard work. I am so impressed with the man Brother has become. I want to lock him in a room with D and force him to share his knowledge. He said "Relationships always take work. If you stop working at it, it will get boring, and if you stop wanting to work at it, then something is wrong." We watched Ellie Parker and then went to bed early.
Yoga in bed on Sunday morning. More cleaning, eating, reading, editing photos.
Met up with SK for carrot cake (bad!) outside in the sun where we met regulars and made new friends. "You can play here!" they said of the place, where there is live music at all times. "I don't know..." but they all want the CD. "You should hear so-and-so play!" of so-and-so who was adorable and British and sitting outside with us with his guitar. But then he played, and I thought "My music would destroy his folk!" and then decided not to drop a CD off ever.
Saw La Moustache which was amazing. Go see it immediately. Nothing better than a French mind-fuck movie on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The movie is the type that makes you disoriented in the real world. I picked up some photos at CVS. To decompress after the movie, we sat in Washington Square Park which is always so chill.
I think I am becoming a mentor to SK. She asked if it bothered her. I didn't tell her that I love assuming this role because it reminds me of how far I've come, of how much I do know. I always focus on what is missing or what I don't know yet or what I have yet to achieve, and lose sight of progress and what knowledge I do have, even if it is not as vast as I'd like. SK told me that she appreciates me and enjoys our friendship, and asked if I thought that was weird, and I said "No, because nobody in NY says things like that because so few people here actually realize that there are other people around them." I am so glad to have girlfriends now.
Headed to Whole Foods where I spent too much money but didn't particularly care.
Went home and realized I forgot many things at Whole Foods. Ugh. Put photos in photo albums and wanted to scream because how is it that I have already run out of space in the new albums? If I'd only known! I need to get a couple more as there will be many photos post-London-Valencia-possibly-Ireland-Barcelona-Italy-France.
Laundry. Amish Market to purchase forgotten food items. Fried tofu and broccoli and peppers and brown rice (I loathe brown rice and this will never change) with peanut sauce - not too bad! Tony Awards - neither Harry nor Ralph won, sniff, and I really need to see The Drowsey Chaperone but will now never be able to get tickets.
D came back at around 9:00 and it turned out that I missed him. I was very happy to see him and he was glad I made extra dinner for him just in case he hadn't eaten. He read art magazines while I yelled at Oprah on the Tony's - why must she be everywhere? just leave me alone! - and then we talked until too late about things that didn't get resolved last week and I think, gasp, progress was made. I said "I think the problem is that when we have issues I don't get the feeling that you actually understand what I'm saying. I know you feel differently about pretty much everything and I understand that and can therefore predict how you will feel about things. You are continuously baffled by the way I respond to things because you don't actually understand, because you don't take the time to understand because you just think I'm wrong in my responses to things in my own life" etc. and I think he actually understood.
Woo! We are happy today and I think, yes, that progress was made. I think. I am never to ask "Why did you do/say that?" and am instead to lovingly say "What you did/said just then really hurt my feelings" and then explain myself calmly, even though I think this sort of thing will prove impossible because, well, you know how boys can be and how baffled you become and how disrespected you can feel, even though they don't mean for these things to happen.
And now I am back at work and it's Monday and how much does work suck after such a wonderful weekend? Lots, that's how much.
OK. I should eat lunch.
Until tomorrow...
Shopping date on Friday night - tax free day! Shoes for all!
Met up with Brother for dinner at our favorite restaurant where I subsequently ignored the diet and ate a salad (good), pizza (very bad), and gnutella pizza for dessert (most terrible thing imagineable). Attended a party in Brooklyn where it became the smallest of worlds. I still can't get over it. I'll tell the story later, but it's good. I mostly successfully ignored VB who was drunk and hanging, but she is hard to ignore when her boobs are all over the place. Had nice conversations and made lovely plans that will probably never materialize.
Alone on Saturday morning! Cleaned, read, jumped around. Completed Attempt I of Photo-Project-du-Jour and failed, but it didn't matter because the sun was out and I was looking forward to the day.
Went to alleged "garage sale" on 44th Street that was more of a bizarro flea market.
I really wanted to buy this for D just to see how horrified he would be.
Yes, I would like your old hair products which you store atop your microwave.
Headed downtown on appropriate train after realizing that my first two strategies would be invalid due to weekend train nonsense. Snapped this photo and was then befriended by a boy who wanted to discuss my giant camera.
He turned out to be a photographer's assistant - coordinating logistics. Fantasy job, folks. I probed for information but soon determined that he was a bit flakey and just wanted company, which was fine with me, as I hadn't spoken yet that day.
Located Foley Square in order to view filming of Spiderman 3. My friend's son's high school marching band was to be featured in the scene, which is how I knew it was happening. I had no idea where Foley Square was, and wondered how ever I would find it, but knew I had found it when I saw this:
No ambiguity regarding what movie set this was, folks! They were staging some sort of pro-Spiderman rally at which people held signs that said things like "Spiderman for Mayor!" and "We love you Spiderman!" Little kids dressed up as Spidermen, adults wearing red hoodies, etc.
And no, I didn't see Tobey. He was there, though. As was loathesome Kirsten Dunst. I couldn't get close. Believe me, I tried. I tried to get in at every corner and was denied each time. I ended up standing on the stairs of The International Center for Trade of some such building.
I was there for about two hours and nothing happened, other than a camera sliding zip-line style between two really tall buildings. I'll recognize the scene in the movie just from the camera shot.
I had to leave. My coworker said that twenty minutes after I left Spiderman swung into the scene. Like 4000 times. Because they had to do 4000 takes. Hmph.
Her son was hanging out with Topher Grace who will be playing Venom. Her son's friend also said "Kirsten Dunst is uglier in person." Heh. Speaking of Kirsten Dunst... I was told this weekend that Jake Gylenhaal is dating Natalie Portman! What is wrong with that boy?
Headed to MoCCA convention from Spidey set to see Brother at his table. Met up with MF, E, PW+M and braved the crowds.
It was mayhem. I bought far more than I'd intended to buy. I can't wait to read everything! Brother tried to get me things for free by trading his book, but sadly he could not strike a deal. He did, however, buy me a book that I really wanted that I didn't have enough cash for. Awwwwww.
Falafel for MF, E, PW+M anf myself post MoCCA insanity. We talked about weddings and cruises and how did everyone know me? I love friends meeting friends.
Headed back uptown. Spent a fortune at Duane Reade (I need to make a return! how bizarre). Looked at dresses but didn't buy any.
Brother came back earlier than expected because the after-party was lame. We talked about relationships and how they are hard work. I am so impressed with the man Brother has become. I want to lock him in a room with D and force him to share his knowledge. He said "Relationships always take work. If you stop working at it, it will get boring, and if you stop wanting to work at it, then something is wrong." We watched Ellie Parker and then went to bed early.
Yoga in bed on Sunday morning. More cleaning, eating, reading, editing photos.
Met up with SK for carrot cake (bad!) outside in the sun where we met regulars and made new friends. "You can play here!" they said of the place, where there is live music at all times. "I don't know..." but they all want the CD. "You should hear so-and-so play!" of so-and-so who was adorable and British and sitting outside with us with his guitar. But then he played, and I thought "My music would destroy his folk!" and then decided not to drop a CD off ever.
Saw La Moustache which was amazing. Go see it immediately. Nothing better than a French mind-fuck movie on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The movie is the type that makes you disoriented in the real world. I picked up some photos at CVS. To decompress after the movie, we sat in Washington Square Park which is always so chill.
I think I am becoming a mentor to SK. She asked if it bothered her. I didn't tell her that I love assuming this role because it reminds me of how far I've come, of how much I do know. I always focus on what is missing or what I don't know yet or what I have yet to achieve, and lose sight of progress and what knowledge I do have, even if it is not as vast as I'd like. SK told me that she appreciates me and enjoys our friendship, and asked if I thought that was weird, and I said "No, because nobody in NY says things like that because so few people here actually realize that there are other people around them." I am so glad to have girlfriends now.
Headed to Whole Foods where I spent too much money but didn't particularly care.
Went home and realized I forgot many things at Whole Foods. Ugh. Put photos in photo albums and wanted to scream because how is it that I have already run out of space in the new albums? If I'd only known! I need to get a couple more as there will be many photos post-London-Valencia-possibly-Ireland-Barcelona-Italy-France.
Laundry. Amish Market to purchase forgotten food items. Fried tofu and broccoli and peppers and brown rice (I loathe brown rice and this will never change) with peanut sauce - not too bad! Tony Awards - neither Harry nor Ralph won, sniff, and I really need to see The Drowsey Chaperone but will now never be able to get tickets.
D came back at around 9:00 and it turned out that I missed him. I was very happy to see him and he was glad I made extra dinner for him just in case he hadn't eaten. He read art magazines while I yelled at Oprah on the Tony's - why must she be everywhere? just leave me alone! - and then we talked until too late about things that didn't get resolved last week and I think, gasp, progress was made. I said "I think the problem is that when we have issues I don't get the feeling that you actually understand what I'm saying. I know you feel differently about pretty much everything and I understand that and can therefore predict how you will feel about things. You are continuously baffled by the way I respond to things because you don't actually understand, because you don't take the time to understand because you just think I'm wrong in my responses to things in my own life" etc. and I think he actually understood.
Woo! We are happy today and I think, yes, that progress was made. I think. I am never to ask "Why did you do/say that?" and am instead to lovingly say "What you did/said just then really hurt my feelings" and then explain myself calmly, even though I think this sort of thing will prove impossible because, well, you know how boys can be and how baffled you become and how disrespected you can feel, even though they don't mean for these things to happen.
And now I am back at work and it's Monday and how much does work suck after such a wonderful weekend? Lots, that's how much.
OK. I should eat lunch.
Until tomorrow...
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