Cosmopolitan Blog

I haven't been doing much lately.

My life as of late has been consumed by "not thinking about it" and "saving money." "Saving money" means staying in and learning to cook while becoming extremely intimate with the wonder that is Netflix, or attending the occasional variety show or spending the rare night out with a friend which inevitably results in drinking too much and saying too much because its rare that either of these things can happen.

Tonight is no such exception. Who knew that one not-so-peach tequila drink and then a cosmo could end up like this? My apartment is spinning and I'm unenthused. It's too late and I'm too spinny and I have to isolate RNA tomorrow morning and I dread it like I dread everything these days.

I fell into bed at 10:30, ready to sleep it away and to forget everything. There was, of course, the chatting. I thought he was going to watch Dave Chapelle, but he was sweet and wanted to talk about our days and then it became talking about the past and then "The thing with you is that your mind can't be changed" about getting up with the spins and taking Advil when really it's a bad idea because you might fall over and you desperately want the sober person to just *get you some water for the love of god.* And the talk of rock climbing that somehow deteriorates into confessions about the past and boys you want to forget and how living together is not the same as being married but honestly I couldn't care less at this point because there are, of course, other things to think about.

Sobering things.

I was in the bathroom and thought "In order to sober up I shall think about sobering things" and thought about how they are lonely and confused and sad and where they are living and how they are living and what they miss and what they dread and how they probably wish I would call but I can't because it's hard now to make two separate phone calls and to be sad both times.

I clenched my fists and I have to admit that I actually sobered up a bit.

I thought about friends in pain and the poor boy on the platform yesterday who I think just came back and who drank from a paper bag and smoked and freaked people out by saying "My friend is gone and do you care? I killed 36 men and do you care?" And oh how I was caring before he even asked because his tatoo broke my heart and because a drunk 25 year old veteran is the saddest thing in the world.

I'm thankful to have internet again. It's nearly 1 am and I can't stop thinking about other people and thinking about other people is the same as worrying and it does no good.

And it's not the same as being married because its easy to just give up and to just walk out, because you can and nobody thinks anything of it because they didn't witness it officially.

Not that I want to argue but I really don't think it's the same thing.

On a day to day basis, maybe. But conceptually? Completely different. A ring doesn't change anything in the relationship, but it changes the way the relationship is perceived. Does the world's perception matter? Not really, not in the apartment, but out there it does. "There isn't a pension for second best" or whatever that line is from that Death Cab song that I still really like even though I probably shouldn't.

The ring says "I commit." Living together says "I'm thinking that committing might be interesting to me at some point but I can't do it until I test it out."

I don"t want to read into it and in all honesty I don't care. It's not something that I need to or want to think about right now. It is the same in these walls and that's all I need right now, and how could I even commit to anything when there's nothing solid at all? Maybe that's all the more reason *to* crave something solid, but I guess right now I second guess everything because nothing feels comfortable anymore.

We watched "Tristan and Isolde" last night and I didn't hate it. Too much money spent on a movie that could have been decent had James Franco not been cast in the lead role. His empty averted gaze destroyed the movie. Well, it was more his insane haircut that rendered the movie hopeless. I kept saying "Maybe Isolde will save him by giving him a haircut!" and "I just don't believe that he loves her, or his king, for that matter." D said "But who would have been better?"

I thought hard. "Jake Gylenhaal. Duh."

And then "Heath Ledger."

"Leonardo DiCaprio!'

"Orlando Bloom!"

"ANYONE ELSE!"

Plans keep falling apart. Movies fail to arrive. Thoughts surface at lame times, mostly when I am trying to sleep and then I remember because its quiet and there's nothing else going on and nothing to distract.

The city smelled like bacon tonight instead of maple syrup.

It's cold out and the temperature in the living room is perfect but the bedroom is still a freaking sauna and I worry that we will have to have the air conditioner on in December. No, worry isn't the right word. I am prematurely annoyed by the temperature environment in the apartment. I am, if you will, aghast. I would like, for one day, natural air in the bedroom while I try to sleep. But I guess there isn't ever real air in this city.

I got an email from Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend, out of the blue. It's been months and months and months. I feel as though he just knows, and sometimes I wish he would still call at a 1 am because it's now me who needs someone to talk to. For him it seems same old, same old, or at least that's what he tells me.

For the first time, though, I saw his name and my heartbeat remained normal.

Finally.

Maybe typing encourages sobriety.

Or maybe I either want to sleep all the time or not sleep at all. Part of "saving money" is "sleeping all the time."

I'm feeling less spinny and instead headachy. There are sirens. Someone jumped from a building on Saturday, or they were thrown, and the entire NYPD and a zillion ambulances came and we didn't want to know what was going on because knowing would just make you afraid or sad, but we found out and I was neither, because I can't really feel much more these days.

OK. I am going to take some Advil and D would be shocked because I am not being stubborn and have been convinced, albiet twenty minutes later and with a bit more sobriety.

Until whenever there is internet and/or time for another blog entry...

Action Figure

Date: 8.20.06
Genre: Musical Theater




Description:

This is a song about a lost toy.

D and I have been losing things as of late, including our minds. D has lost two pairs of cycling glasses (one to wind, one to theft), two wallets (one to stupidity, one to theft), his checkbook, his umbrella, and a vast assortment of other belongings. I lost something far more sentimental than any of those things - something I've been carrying around with me everywhere I've gone since July of 1994 has disappeared. I don't even know when it disappeared. I've been so absentminded lately.

I was going for something whimsical, something child-like, something toy-esque.

I was also very excited to use the keyboard that is now in my bedroom - woop! - so there may be too many sounds, and sounds that do not belong, but there are sounds! And they are in tune! And there is no longer the sound of the air conditioner! Yeah!

This song is old. I couldn't post it when I originally wrote it because we have been without internet at the apartment. I'm not sure when I started writing it - I just kept working on it and adding to it until the internet was restored, which was this morning. So I'm guessing at 8/20, but I think it was actually before that.

Enjoy!

Lyrics:

I walked around with you in my pocket
Every step that I took I took for granted
I didn't think to look
I didn't think to check
I didn't think to think at all

Seven And A Half Cents

There are certain careers that would suit me far better than the career I have actually chosen. I’m not sure whether photography is on this list. The world has been atypically kind over the past few days and has presented me with not one but two random run-ins with photographers. D and I met one outside our apartment late on Saturday night. Our quest for pineapple juice to quench our thirst for mixed drinks was interrupted by a downpour, hence we found ourselves beneath the awning of our neighborhood convenience store. There we met a photographer who was protecting herself and her camera from the rain while covering someone’s having jumped (been thrown?) from a building on our block. Ah, insight. She complained about being a press photographer but it didn’t seem terribly unappealing to me. The guy who stopped by our apartment last night to buy the wheels D had posted on Craigslist was also a photographer! He stayed for about a half an hour answering questions, giving advice, being far too kind for a New Yorker. I still don’t know whether or not I’d be a good photographer, but I’m fairly certain that I will at the very least try to be one, good or bad.

I know, however, that I would be good at professionally organizing closets.

Or, for that matter, professionally organizing anything. I could manage projects. Or I could be an efficiency expert.

Or, perhaps, on a related tip, I could be the head of a worker’s union, because lately I have been outraged by the way that certain workers of certain capacities have been being treated. I’ve taken to doing unnecessary calculations to prove my points, and my views tend to be contagious, even though I don’t mean for them to be. I’ve been honest with my voice slightly raised, and people are listening. Perhaps I should speak louder as I am far more passionate about this sort of thing than I am about my actual job.

How are you supposed to know what you are good at when you are 18 years old?

The photographer last night said that he was the youngest one in his graduate program, and he was 26 years old. He said “All of my friends whose bands are actually successful are in their 30’s, because they’re serious.”

Why is everything so daunting when you are 30 years old?

Non-refundable fare

Why do I get embarrassed when interacting with the automated Continental phone service thing that makes me tell them what I want out loud? Why does it feel so weird to be in a quiet lab saying "YES" and then "NO" and then "INTERNATIONAL" and then "NEW RESERVATION?" And how can this possibly be better than just pressing "*" or "#?"

AND WHY AM I STILL ON HOLD!?!??!

WHEN I'M SUPPOSED TO BE EN ROUTE TO FREAKING SICILY!??!