Thirteen

Date: 12.9.04
Genre: Butterflies

NOTE: This is a cover of Big Star's "Thirteen" from the album #1 Record which was released in 1972. This is one of my favorite songs ever.



Description:

Some technical notes: I did this in one hour. I rushed this because I am afraid that if I don't record it now, I never will because the butterflies will be replaced by more venom towards men.

Yes, I know, I know, you're saying "tempo issues!" The original song changes tempo, so there!

The bridge bites. I've actually never liked the bridge in the song - it doesn't go with the rest of the song - but I appreciate that as an issue, as Lollybanger had the same issue on many occasions. The bridge, however, sounded infinitely worse on piano than on guitar, so I just threw something not-as-complex but equally dumb in there on this recording.

I have not done this song justice. This is the cutest song ever written and I have butchered it in my attempt to capitalize on my temporary good mood. I am sorry, Big Star. I really love the song. Please forgive me.

I recorded this song because I currently feel very cute towards someone, which is something I haven't experienced in a very long time. I haven't felt this way in nearly ten years. It is noteworthy and deserves a song. It is hard, however, to depart from my usual hateful, spiteful, vengeful writing style. I'd love to write a song about having an innocent crush, but the last time I did that I wrote "Big Dipper" and all hell broke loose over the course of the next few years.

I would write a song if I felt at all optimistic, but I don't.

I will, however, enjoy feeling like I am "Thirteen" until everything gets ruined.

(Cute sidenote: I've been toying with the idea of recording this for a while, and the other night he said "What is your feeling on The Rolling Stones?" and I said "Overrated," and he gave me the nod of approval and then said "Except Paint It Black, of course." Sigh.)

Lyrics:

Won't you let me walk you home from school
Won't you let me meet you at the pool
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you
Won't you tell your dad "Get off my back"
Tell him what we said bout "Paint It Black"
Rock n roll is here to stay
Come inside now its okay
And I'll shake you
Won't you tell me what you're thinking of
Would you be an outlaw for my love
If its so then let me know
If its "no" well, I can go
I won't make you

You Can't Take Them Back

It's Thursday. I just said to someone "Man, am I tired!" and she said "I know! And it's only Wednesday!" I nearly started to cry. Then I said "Please, please, please tell me its Thursday..." and she said "Oh, yeah, it is."

So its Thursday.

Last night, Wednesday night, I went to see Closer.

My thoughts include:

The movie flew by. It was a little over an hour and a half and when it ended I thought "Wait, isn't there another hour?"

The acting was amazing.

The actressing was not.

Jude Law is beautiful, as is Clive Owen, who was the best part of the film. Good acting is delicious.

It was provocative. We couldn't stop discussing it. We couldn't stop discussing it because we didn't understand any of the characters' motivations other than the Clive Owen character. Does that mean the movie was bad? Possibly. But it was still enjoyable, and it had Jude Law. Wearing glasses. Growl.

I still hate Natalie Portman. I just can't get over her bad dancing from years ago. I also can't get over the fact that she looks exactly the same as she did when she was in The Professional, which was an amazing movie. It disturbs me when men say "Natalie Portman is hot," because I think "Did they think that she was hot when she was 12?, because she looks exactly the same!" She looks like a child. Her head-to-body ratio doesn't help things. Every time she spoke in this movie I cringed. I didn't understand her character at all. R, who is in love with her, said she "was amazing," but when I asked him what her character's deal was in the movie, he had no idea. He must have thought it "was amazing" when she stripped.

I adore Julia Roberts, but she wasn't particularly good either. Really inconsistent aside from her first scene, in which she was overflowing with sexy tension.

The lovely thing about my viewing this movie was that I had no personal reaction to it. Had I seen this movie two years ago I'd most likely have left the film numerous times to cry like an idiot in the restroom. Time really does help things.

After the movie I went to N's birthday party at a drag bar. It was fun. The Hostess for the evening referred to our table as "The United Colors of Benetton, with their Token Black Friend." I'm not really sure how I feel about that, but I contributed money to the Save A Queen Fund anyway. I had a decent time. I was tired. And feeling a little moody. I don't know why. There was karaoke going on downstairs but everybody wanted to make trains or call their girlfriends who were acting weird.

A friend was telling me last night that the girl's he been dating for 3.5 months told him that she loved him, to which he responded "thank you." There has been all sorts of fallout - sabotage on her part, communication breakdown, etc. He doesn't see what the big deal is. He doesn't understand why she's acting weird. He doesn't understand why she's being emotional. I got really mad at him.

Once those words are out there, you can't take them back.

I'm wondering, today, if its worth it, then, to put it out there at all. Like when is it worth it? Is it ever worth it?

The consequences can be disastrous.

And if you have feelings for someone, should you tell them? What makes it worth it? What if you tell them and they can't handle it and you've ruined everything? Is it worth ruining everything just to get something off your chest? For the chance?

I'm so bad at receiving and making confessions of this nature. I suck.

How many opportunities are missed because people are wimps?

And how many situations are ruined because someone wasn't?

Sigh.

I feel bad for this girl I don't know, because I can imagine how she must feel.

I am also grieving with a friend today who lives in MA, and its killing me that I can't be there.

I want to cry for everyone else's feelings around the holidays because I am too overwhelmed to have any of my own this year.

Maybe that's why I'm moody.

I have no plans tonight and I am psyched. I am going to work on music. I'm doing a cover. I want to write a cute and happy song about butterflies while they're still alive but can't because I am pessimistic and disaster-izing already, so I'm stealing one. Which reminds me that I have to print out lyrics.

Until tomorrow.....

Hair Cut!

I have made an appointment to get my hair cut.

It will be very expensive but will be downstairs at the salon featured on some show called What Not To Wear that I've never seen.

You can get haircuts with the stylists-in-training for 1/5 the price of the master stylist.

Master stylist!

I went in, made my appointment, and the woman at the desk said "Your appointment will be with C. She's here if you'd like to meet her."

"Cool."

C appeared and said "OK, why don't you sit down for your consulation!"

Consultation?

I was like "Wait, I didn't want a consultation..."

"You said you wanted to meet with me."

"Yes... but... well... you see... do I have to pay for this?"

Nope. You don't. You have a consultation a couple weeks before so the stylist can be thinking about your hair in the meantime.

Now I don't feel so bad about paying an exorbitant amount of money for a haircut, because it included a consultation!

I love the lighting in hair salons - it makes your hair look all shiny and perfect and appealing. C just ran her hands through my hair for two seconds and made it look the best its looked ever. How do they do that?

I said "You see, I'd like for the new haircut to make my hair always look like this even though there's no way I'll ever be able to make it look like this again."

She promised to "show me" how to do it.

Then I walked outside and the wind blew and my hair looks awful. But it looked really good and extremely shiny for two minutes.

Flannel

I don't have much to say today.

So here are some things I'm thinking about.

The flannel sheets are ON. Very exciting. Unfortunately the change machine in my building is broken, so I couldn't wash the sheets that were on my bed previously so my guests this weekend will have to bring their own sheets. I suck.

I talked to my mother last night, and we talked about Christmas, and she told me not to stress about gifts. She said "We're all grownups - we don't need gifts," but it would be weird to celebrate Christmas without there being any gifts. The thing is that I am the person in the family who's always prepared - I always bring gifts, I'm always on time, I'm always on top of things. This year isn't like that. I have no idea what's going on. And what if nobody else does? There would not be any presents!!! I asked my mother what she wanted, and she wants some crazy insane hardcore knife. It is weird that I will be giving my sweet mother a knife for Christmas. She also wants a new Cuisinart. I wasn't entirely sure what a Cuisinart was but was too ashamed to ask her. No sense in disappointing her even more - I have no babies, no husband, and I don't know what a Cuisinart is. I checked the Cuisinart website this morning, and apparently Cuisinart is a company! I said to Bench Buddy, "If someone said they wanted 'a Cuisinart,' they mean they want a food processor, right?" and Bench Buddy said "Yes, indeed, they do." I said "Dude! Cuisinarts are $100!" thinking that was way too much for a food processor, to which Bench Buddy responded "That's cheap!" Hmmm.

Last night was phone call night. I made 2 of the 20 phone calls that are in the queue. While I was making the second phone call, my friend O from CA called. I didn't answer it. I figured he'd just go in the queue with everyone else. I haven't talked to him in months. In the message he said there is exciting news that doesn't impact my life in any way and that he misses me. I'll probably never find out what the news is. I owe phone calls to people in CO and CA, not to mention people in upsate NY and people in NYC I've been meaning to call who I haven't seen in months. Then there's my brother in St. Loo, and tons of people in MA I haven't talked to since I moved. I am trying not to let it stress me out, but I hate being one of those people who doesn't return phone calls. Again, I suck.

As do men. Roommate had a minor meltdown last night. It wasn't pretty. She brought wine home for the both of us, but I had to turn it down by saying "Dude, I can't function right now, so I really can't drink... again..." but she got a wine glass out anyway and said she'd appreciate it if I put water in it just so she didn't feel like she was drinking alone. I listened, and offered up advice that she actually listened to and followed and said this morning that she felt better. I have so much advice for people who aren't me.

Prescription safety glasses have arrived! Mine are awesome. They look very cute and dorky. Bench Buddy started singing "Wee-oooh I look just like Buddy Holly..." when I put them on. The sideguards are infuriating. I don't see how they can expect us to wear them all day and not go completely insane.

Blog Boy posted on his blog last night that he's questioning his blogging practices. "A friend of mine had an existential freak-out when she read about herself in my blog. I didn't write anything (too) bad about her. But people aren't supposed to question their identities in the world after reading my blog (unless, of course, you're a Republican). They're supposed to say 'Hmmm ... interesting' or, if I've succeeded, have a good laugh. Since the incident, I've been thinking a lot about what is and isn't appropriate to write in my blog." The thing with this dude is that some of the stuff on his blog is true and some is not. I'll probably never talk to him again, but I want him to continue with his blog because the blog is good! This newest post was about his not being sure if he should have the blog anymore, since this is, like, the third time in the blog's existence that someone has been offended by something said about them in his blog. I am assuming that the post was part of the writing that isn't true, but now I am starting to feel bad if he does, indeed, stop writing. That would suck. But he's probably just writing fiction, so whatever.

I am not going to class tonight because I liked the book too much and don't want my feelings about it to be destroyed by overanalysis. I'd much rather go to the movies and then to a birthday party.

The Real World isn't new for three weeks and there is no explanation!!! Wtf!??!?!

I really need a haircut and have no idea when or where I will get one.

OK. Now lunch.

Until next time...

Kinsey

I went to see Kinsey last night.

The part of me that dug working in the sex lab in college has been obsessing about seeing this movie since I heard about it. Scientists! Sex! Yeah!

It was, however, awful. Please do not see it.

Very one-dimensional, cheesy, and not at all flattering to scientists. Oh well. I apparently missed the only funny part of the movie when I was in the bathroom.

And then I only slept for about two hours last night.

This was due to the perfect combination of caffeine, wine, and butterflies.

The Weekend And Then Some In List Form

1. I didn't get as much sleep as I'd have liked to on Friday night.

2. Getting up at 6:30am on a Saturday, which is earlier than I get up during the week, is just plain wrong.

3. The man seated next to me on the bus on my way up to Boston thought Jersey Girl was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

4. Boston seems small.

5. And white.

6. And the dogs don't seem as well-groomed.

7. And more people wear sweatshirts in Boston than in NY.

8. Anna's Burritos are still heaven. I haven't been eating well/right but my bean and rice burrito with cheese/guac/sour cream/and minor hot sauce reset everything. Yum!

9. Man do I miss my former roommates. They are a blast. We were punchy from the moment I walked into my former home. One doesn't get to be as punchy in a new life where one doesn't know people well enough to be punchy.

10. It is nice when other people help you with your unmanageable hair.

11. I had really good eye-shadow for the party. And fabulous purple pants. Purple pants. I wish I could wear them every day.

12. I miss having close girlfriends.

13. I miss having my sister nearby.

14. I miss having close friends at all, really. It's weird when you live in a place where nobody knows you well.

15. I miss everyone, dammit.

16. I don't have enough time for anything. I want people to visit but there is not time. I want to visit people but there is not time. I want to talk to each person I know in Boston, for at least three hours per person, but there is not time.

17. Carols on a Keyboard are just as good as Carols on a Piano.

18. During the party, M said "H has something to tell you!" She was all frantic and smiley so I knew it would be good. (And please note, I was drunk-ish when this transpired so this may not be the most accurate account!)

H said, handing me $20, "I owe you money."

I said "For what?"

She said "For the Smashing Pumpkins concert in 1996 that you, me, and M went to at UMass."

"What?"

"My father owes you money."

"For what?"

"The Smashing Pumpkins."

"We went to see the Smashing Pumpkins?"

"Yes, so I owe you $30."

"Why?"

"Because my dad got you the tickets and you guys wrote him a check but he wanted it to be part of my birthday present, so he owes you money."

"Sweet!"

M said "I'm giving mine to charity."

"Wait - what?"

"My father owes you money. He told me at Thanksgiving to give you and M $30 each, but I only have two $20's and some ones."

"Sweet!"

Now. I don't understand why

a. H's father just didn't cash the checks back in 1996 or
b. why he remembered or
c. why he just didn't let it go, but

I was PSYCHED. And I wasn't going to donate it to charity, because H's father wanted me to have the money! So I used it to finance the party. Woo hoo!!!

H said "Look, all I have is $27 so I owe you $3 next time I see you."

"No you don't!" M and I said, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she'll give me $3 from her father next time I see her. Bizarre but....

Awshummmmm......

19. Sleeping in a sleeping bag with a hot water bottle is heaven. Heaven. Best sleep I've had in ages, despite being on a pull-out couch, because I was the warmest I've been in ages. Hmmmmm.

20. The bus driver on the bus ride home said things like "Don't ask me what time it is throughout the ride - if you do not own a watch, it is clear that you don't care about time, so don't bother me" and "The bus is temperature controlled - if you get warm, take off your coat - if you get cold, put on your coat - don't tell me about it" and "If you fall asleep, please make sure your valuable belongings are put somewhere secret - depending on what country you're in, different things are of value - such as your spouse, children, or significant other - so if you fall asleep, make sure they are hidden - someone might take them" and "The scheduled arrival time is 6:30 - it could be 6:50 or 7:30 or 9:00 - I do not know - so don't ask me - whenever we get there is when we get there and it will have nothing to do with me."

21. Desperate Housewives was not on. Sadness and weeping.

22. Roommate's cat is really sick and I am surprisingly distraught.

23. This morning in the subway a man was singing "I'm dreaming of a black Christmas."

24. It is Monday.

25. That is all.

Blogs Etc. - An Update

Muppet News Flash:

The writer of the blog from two posts ago - the one in response to which I am experiencing existential agita associated with being reduced to a character in the online saga of someone I don't know well - sent me an email.

To paraphrase:

"wondering how much of my blog you read.... friend was angry with me for sending you the link because, well, you're on the blog... she said it would make you feel weird and that i should delete the posts but i don't want to hide things..."

He then proceeded to tell me how to find the entries about me and then apologized for being "lame" and reducing me to "some impersonal label." He said I could feel free to ask him to clarify things, etc. etc. etc.

Wow.

Had I done that, I'd have been cowering in my mind thinking "Shit! He's going to hate me, awkward, should I say something? What should I say? Does he hate me? What is he thinking?" and the I'd have avoided confronting it altogether.

I respect the preemptive strike. Good for him! I, for the first time in a long time, respect a man.

I emailed him and said that I had, indeed, already read the posts and explained a bit of my angst. I assured him that I am not mad, only extremely, utterly, and pyschologically weirded out.

I then copied my blog post from yesterday into an email and sent it to him.

Since we're being honest.

Right.

Now he will know me for the overthinking psychopath that I am, and he can write a blog post about how Comic Girl #3 turned out to be insane, which was luckily revealed early on through a series of zany blog hijinks!

And then people will comment:

"We knew she was bad news in the making!"

"She seemed like a proto-lesbian, anyway!"

"Glasses? Obviously it was doomed from the start!"

We Thought It Was Really Funny Last Night

But today it isn't.

But it seemed really funny last night.

We have this every-Thursday-happy-hour thing where the bar rotates, so every week somebody different chooses the bar. Basically our criteria are: happy hour specials and pub fries for R. This girl, M, chose the bar last night based on cheese fries and proximity. When we checked the website, we were horrified to see skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts, but whatever. They have cheese fries.

We were slightly worried about the sorority girl quotient, but realized, the second we got there, that there would not be an issue. We were the only people there.

Three hours later, it was us and about 75 aging dudes. I am thinking it was a frat reunion, and they chose that bar because of the skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts on the website.

One of the dudes had a piece of paper sticking out of his collar. We thought this was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. We think he forgot to take the cardboard out of the shirt, which he just purchased for the reunion. We whispered and pointed for 15 minutes and wrestled with whether we should tell him or just sneak up behind him and pull it out but eventually decided that the best thing for us to do would be to put pieces of paper in our collars and walk by him repetitively. We ripped up pieces of paper placemat and stuck them in our shirts.

I swear. It was really funny last night.

D's father was randomly in town last night because he missed a connecting flight, and I was like "D! I want to meet your father! I must see your father! I love parents! I want to see people's parents the way normal people want to see people's babies! People's parents are so cute!"

D finally caved in and said his father would "stop by." Sometimes I forget that people's parents are older than mine because my parents are relatively young to have a child my age. D's father came in and he was like mid-to-late-60's and scared to death of us. I felt really bad. But he was, of course, adorable and D looks just like him only like 7 inches taller and not wearing a suit.

D introduced each of us to his father and was then awkwardly like "Well, I guess we'll be going..." and he turned around and started walking out with a piece of paper sticking out of his shirt. We were like "D! Wait!" and were gesturing towards our pieces of paper. He heard us, turned around, and, mortified, removed his piece of paper. His poor father. He's going to report to D's mother that D's friends are a bad, insane influence on their son.

There was also this guy who looked nothing like Macauly Culkin at the bar who we were convinced looked just like Macauly Culkin. We kept pointing at him and creating scenes so he'd turn around so we could decide just how much he did or did not look like Macauly Culkin. After ten minutes of this Macauly and his friends left the bar, but on their way out we got a really good look at him and he did, indeed, look like a dark-haired-not-as-cute-Macauly-Culkin-with-a-totally-different-shaped-head-but-the-same-dough-boy-lips.

Awshummm.....

Blogs, Bizarreness, Bad News In the Making, Batman

I have a blog. You all know this because you are reading it. I write about my readers. I write about people who don't read it. The people who don't read it are sort of like characters. They're New York people who are real to me but fiction to the people who read the blog. I don't worry about it, because I am mostly certain that nobody will ever see this.

Now. Imagine that you've met someone and they say "I'll send you the link to my blog."

You think "Rad! I don't know this person well and their blog will give me insight into their personality!"

Then you read the blog because you are doing everything in your power to procrastinate doing work because you know your data will be bad and because the entire week has been a wash scientifically. Your immediate response is "This blog is GOOD!" so you read more, wishing your blog could be as good. But you're not concerned, because you are a scientist and the writer of the good blog is, well, a writer.

You read more, and you learn more about this person. Questions are answered. You start to like the writer more and more, because you can identify with the writing. More importantly, you can identify with why the writer writes.

You read on, and then you find an entry about you.

Which is weird, because suddenly you've become a character in someone else's blog.

You wonder "Does the author realize I've seen this?" or "Did the author want me to see this?" or "What does the author mean by this?"

In the entry, which is bizarre because it mimics an entry in your own blog, the author is excited to have met you but describes you as "bad news in the making" because you very much remind the author of someone named "J."

You are compared to "J" because you both have "the nerdy glasses and the big words." There are more comparisons.

Now.

It's just weird.

Being on someone's blog.

And having what's said about you on someone's blog be uninterpretable.

It brings up this cascade of questions and thinking-too-much:

1. Who is "J?" Is she real? If you met her, would you think that she was just like you? How do people perceive you, anyway?

2. In the entry, you are referred to as Comic Girl #3 - there are entries about #2 - but who is #1? Are there other people on the planet who are just like you? Did these other Girls look like you? And why are you #3? And why is someone other than you writing about your glasses? How bizarre is that? How should you feel about this?

3. Are people drawn to other people because they remind them of something comfortable? Do people only hang out with new people because the new people are substitutes for someone else? Is that what life is all about? Are you just a genre? Are you just "a type?"

4. Being a character. Weird. People wrote comments. Which is fine, because we all do it, but still weird.

5. Should you be flattered or horrified? If you make enough of an impression on someone to appear as a character in their blog, then that's cool. But its almost like you're a shadow of another character. Would you be noteworthy in someone's life if someone didn't already set the precedent for your type?

Bizarre. It's not traumatic or anything. It's just an interesting experience to have. People are always talking about information being readily available on the internet (man, I talked about the Internet being a Super Villain in my very own blog!) and this is just an example of that. When asked what superpower people would like, some people who haven't really thought things through will say "The ability to read minds." The ability to read thoughts is the worst superpower ever.

It's just weird to be distilled down to a character in someone's cryptic online story. Which I guess is deserved, as I am writing my own cryptic online story. Except its not really cryptic. Is it?

Man. This is weird. Maybe I shouldn't have a blog anymore. No. Maybe I'll just never talk about people again. But I like to tell stories about people doing cute or ridiculous things. What's more entertaining than people?

Holy Blog Crisis, Batman.

Free Sangria

The things you will tell someone as you're trying to get to know them are bizarre and unpredictable.

For example, I found myself soliloquizing this evening about my arch-nemesis from high school.

Now.

I don't often talk about my arch-nemesis. I am unsure whether I've even mentioned his existence to some (most? any?) of my best friends. I never, ever consciously think about him. He has been stricken from the record.

He doesn't exist until I am trying to explain who I am to someone who knows nothing about me, and for some reason I end up talking about my arch-nemesis from high school.

Why is that? Is it to explain what annoys me about the world without directly saying "It annoys me when smarmy people get ahead of qualified people by cheating and because they are better looking?" Is it to remind myself that I have a past? Is it because the term "arch-nemesis" isn't used enough and because it makes for good conversation to share stories about enemies? Why did I even bring this up? I have no idea.

The arch-nemesis conversation occurred this evening over Mexican food. The restaurant was very non-New York. This means that it was not scene-y. It reminded me of Boston and made me feel warm and fuzzy. I did not feel warm and fuzzy about the price of Quesadillas, though. I was made, however, to feel extremely warm and fuzzy when the waiter brought over two glasses of sangria. We were like "We didn't order..." and he smiled adorably and said "It's on the house."

I have no explanation for this. Nobody else in the restaurant got free sangria. More data must be collected....

In other news, finally!!! someone at work did an impression of Ja Rule. Again, warm and fuzzy. It's been far too long since someone in my life imitated Ja Rule. My new Bench Buddy did it and it was fantastic. I became giddy, which prompted him to do more hip hop impressions, including doing all three parts (Ja Rule included) of that Fat Joe / Ashanti "What's love got to do... got to do... got to do wtih it...." song. These impressions most likely resulted from my declaration of "We have to get a Snoop Dogg action figure as a mascot for our bay!"

This new guy rocks. He also said, unprompted, "Well, if you want some cute indie pop boys to hang out with, you should meet my friends."

Yes, Bench Buddy, you said the magic words. Cute. Indie. Pop. Boys.

Damn sangria. I am simultaneously exhausted and spastic so....

More on the topic of getting to know new people...

Sometimes when you find yourself getting to know new people, you will not only tell them bizarre things about yourself that you never tell anyone and relay ancient anecdotes and say things like "oh yeah? well my hometown has COWS!", you might find yourself allowing them to hear your original songs on your Ipod.

This might weird you out because nobody other than you has actually heard these songs in crisp, raw, non-audio-blogged form. And because nobody in your new life knows about this part of you.

It might weird you out even more because you have to watch this person listen to your music, which is basically like watching someone read your diary, and all you want to do is scream "Well, do you hate it?" but you don't, because you are truly afraid that they do.

And it might make you pause when you realize that the only reason you allowed them to listen to the songs is because they were adorable when they stuttered "Why can't I talk around you?"

And it might embarrass you even more than you are already embarrassed when they say, after listening, something like "You seem really nervous" as you blush uncontrollably.

And it might frustrate you to no end because you just did something you never do, and because for you, having someone listen to your music while you are there is more intimacy than you know how to handle. It's more than you're used to. It makes you feel like a freak and makes you want to yell "I am nervous because I feel like you just saw me naked or something!" but instead you just take your Ipod back and don't ask if the music was good or not.

And then its the next day at work and you look up and unexpectedly see this person and they look different to you.

And you smile differently.

Because you feel like he saw a part of you that nobody else sees and for some reason he still smiles at you.

It's weird - that moment when you see someone differently and you think "Happy" and then "Oh shit" and then "Maybe its time to find a therapist here."

Obsessive Entry of the Week

I want a Snoop Dogg action figure. I looked at some on the web, and there are
apparently three different ones, but I don't love any of them enough to pay $35. If they were $15, maybe. I want one for work. And one for the loft. And one to carry with me at all times.

In the spirit of Snoop, please enjoy the following:

http://www.asksnoop.com/

I will always love this website.

In other news, I went to see The Machinist last night.

The writer saw Fight Club and Memento and thought "Wow! Those were great movies! You know what would be awesome? If I take all the crappy stuff from both of those movies, combine them, and then have a grotesquely thin protagonist to trick people into thinking I've written a good movie!"

The only good thing about this movie was that it was pretty.

Christian Bale, however, was not pretty. I didn't think it was possible. He is my longest-lasting celebrity crush.

(Breaking news: Someone in the lab just said to the pregnant woman "But isn't your stomach itchy? I remember my stomach being really dry and itchy. Did you try the cocoa butter thing?")

I've loved him since Newsies. I have been rabid. I haven't seen too many of his recent endeavors, but have seen Swing Kids about 10,000 times. If I had to marry someone, it would be Christian Bale. Well, not Christian Bale at 119 pounds. Plump, adorable, perfect Christain Bale.

He is pretty much the only celebrity crush who has endured the test of time. I've gone through every phase - Corey Haim, Jon Knight, William Baldwin, Ralph Fiennes, Brad Pitt, Dave Grohl, Jude Law. Christian Bale has always been there.

Yum.

And I liked him before everyone realized he was super hot after American Psycho.

And how excited are we for Christian Bale to be Batman in Batman Begins?

I cannot contain myself.

The only thing with Christian Bale, though, is that he is very serious. He never smiles. Which will be good for the Batman role. But not good in a boyfriend, which is the only reason I'll never date him.

Heh.

Bad Mood Be Gone!

Today during lunch I went to pick up my hemmed purple pants, which look fabulous. I cannot wait to wear them this weekend.

On my way back from the pants mission, I stopped at Subway for lunch. I love Subway because they say "Our sandwiches have only three grams of fat!" and then harrass you at the cash register until you buy a soda, a cookie, and chips.

Fine with me! I asked for a white chocolate chip cookie. No chips. Take that!

I sat down to eat and realized they had given me two white chocolate chip cookies! Apparently two cookies is the equivalent of one bag of chips in the meal deal. I bit into cookie 1 and it was pure bliss. Why? Because this cookie, for whatever reason, tasted exactly like a Lucky Charms marshmallow.

And I had two of them.

Yes.

Bad mood officially thwarted by a white chocolate chip cookie.

Word.

Going Home

Now I know what "going home" means. I've never gone home from anywhere but the same state that home was in. Going home is very romantic and exciting when you don't live near home. You feel the climate changing and see grass and trees and get to ride in a car. You receive looks of awe from your family members because you now live "somewhere else." You have an neverending arsenal of things to talk about and, more importantly, things to feel nostalgic about.

Going home was, of course, an ordeal. Getting to Boston from NYC was agony. Penn Station was more chaotic than usual. There were wall to wall people, the air was stagnant, it was about 100 degrees, people were irritable and running over one another with luggage. People were yelling and screaming and hostile. Once on the train, it was delayed for about an hour and a half due to "traffic on the tracks" and "weather." We inched down the tracks - and waited like two seconds away from 128, which is where I was getting off, for a half hour without explanation.

Being at home was nice, although not as relaxing as I'd have liked. Thanksgiving Day itself was lovely - lots of carbs, lots of stories, lots of appreciation of relatives although I feel very distant from them now that they literally have no comprehension of what my life is like. Before they could at least picture where I was even though they don't know much about me.

I felt very romantic on Thankgiving Day because my father forced us to watch the Concert for George, which immediately had me smitten with George Harrison's son Dhani, who looks exactly like George. Freakishly like him. Uncanny. You would think it was George himself if you didn't know what you were watching.

I thought "Wow, I would totally date him," and then I started thinking about George Harrison himself, and how he was such a good man and amazing musician. Eric Clapton organized the concert, and he's amazing as well. And still attractive, despite his age. Then I was thinking "Would I have left George for Eric Clapton like Patti did?" and then I started wondering if she was still sort of in love with George after she left him, because how could she not be? And then I felt all romantic and tragic projecting myself onto Patti Boyd, who was with Eric Clapton but must have still loved George. Sigh. I am so deranged. I couldn't quite deal with the idea of being in love with Eric Clapton and George Harrison at the same time. It's enough to make you explode, but in a good way.

Aside from the fact that my folks are still cheap and therefore refuse to put the heat up to survivable levels thereby necessitating the wearing of two blankets in the house at all times which has caused me to now be sick again, visiting with them was lovely. Turns out I miss them. Tons.

Some highlights from my mini-holiday:

1. My sister got a guinea pig! His name is Tony and he makes her happier than she's ever been. He is adorable, and she is adorable with him.

2. Went out for dinner and ice cream with M and N (and Sister), who were kind enough to journey out into the sub-suburbs to spend time with me. Even though we were fairly full and slightly buzzed after dinner, we had to have sundaes at Friendly's. Fortunately a new Friendly's just opened up within walking distance of where we ate dinner, so we were all set! Friendly's has the best hot fudge on the planet. What they also have, and you did not know this!, is the funniest artwork ever created. Sister looked up and said "Look... there's ice cream in that picture for no reason" and then "See the one next to it? There's a sandwich in the backyard." Yes, folks, for whatever reason, this particular Friendly's decided to adorn its walls with photographs of New England-y scenes - such as covered bridges, sailboats, barns, seascapes, landscapes - with gratuitous Friendly's food items thrown in rather randomly. After we finished eating, we walked around the restaurant, gallery-style, and took in each of these scenes. I couldn't stop laughing at the sandwich in the backyard or the conehead sundae on the tall ship.

3. My sister exposed me to Curb Your Enthusiasm and mark my words! Whenever I have a functional DVD player I'm so renting them! There was an episode in which Larry David goes to the doctor's and is outraged by the sign-in policy. Basically, you make an appointment but once you get there its first come/first serve based on who's signed in first, thus rendering the pre-made appointment pointless. He tries to drum up outrage and support from the other patients in the waiting room, but everyone ignores him. This exact thing happened to me yesterday on the train on my way home to Brooklyn - there was this woman who was absolutely outraged by the train service - like the express train wasn't coming and she kept trying to rally everyone on the train by saying things like "Doesn't anyone think this policy is ridiculous? Why aren't there more express trains? Ridiculous. How can we stand for this?" but everyone ignored her because nobody cared. We are all used to this. It was awesome.

4. My hometown is all developed. There is now a McDonald's, Starbucks, Walgreens, Star Market, and other nonsense. It's just not right.

Getting back yesterday, as usual, too forever. LBF dropped me off in Harvard Square at about noon and I got to South Station at about 12:40 for my 1:00 train, which didn't come until 1:30. We were then delayed due to "slippery tracks" as well as "increased passenger volume" and then "engine issues." I got into Penn Station at about 7:30.

Right now I am exhausted, sick, and desperately want to decompress. I have a huge pile of phone calls to make, songs to write/record, errands to run, gifts to purchase, Christmas songs to practice just in case I have to play them this weekend. The world doesn't let me forget, either - Christmas carols are already on non-stop. Solid rotation. The station that was playing in tissue culture this morning actually boasted of their "Uninterrupted Holiday Music!" Instead of putting me in the spirit it just makes me anxious. Because I suck at "Let It Snow" and have no time to practice. And because I don't know what to get anyone, or where to get it, or who I'm getting things for.

Blech. This is just fatigue talking. Or maybe its having been away from where I want to be that's talking. When you find where you want to be, suddenly its hard to be away from it. I really missed New York while I was in MA. I had dreams starring my New York friends. It's good to be back, but I won't really feel like I'm back until after the holidays. Hope you all had stellar Thanksgivings. I will report back tomorrow when I am in a better mood and when hopefully I will no longer suck at "Let It Snow."

Word.

One More Thing....

I saw a teenager on the train today who was wearing this bizarre Donald Duck Nascar jacket. Interesting. I thought "Does that particular city teenager have a thing for Donald Duck or is this the newest in hip hop fashion?"

Then, on my way to and from the glasses place, I saw two more kids with these jackets, but they were Mickey Mouse!

So apparently this is the new trend in hip hop fashion.

I am thoroughly confused by it. Disney characters? On jackets in 2004? For $200? Wtf?

To see the jackets please visit:

http://www.abasleatherjackets.com/micmous.html

Now I'm really leaving.

All Bow to the German-ator

Blog Reference: Karma Officially Trampled (11.16.04); comment by German:

"hi leah,

if you still have problems with your new glasses after
the prescription is fixed, make sure that you take with
you your old specs, and bend the frame with the same angles
as your old one.

I actually had major headaches with my new glasses, then
I went back and the person there just said, oh, we need
to bend them the way your used to. I don't know if I'm
describing it well enough.. but the frames' bent position
can make a HUGE diference.."

I just went to the eyeglasses place.

I threw no fit.

When asked how I was doing ("LEAH! HOW ARE YOU?! We thought you were leaving today for Thanksgiving!" because now we are old friends), I said "I am quite cross, actually." I explained what was now wrong, how I felt about it, and said "I'd like my money back."

They said "Well, we already did two re-do's for no charge."

"The re-do's were not my fault."

"I know, I know, maybe we can give you a store credit..."

"That won't do."

They gave my glasses to the lens-making-man to look at. He claimed that the new glasses were the same exact prescription as the old glasses. I said "No, because I can't see out of the new ones and get crazy headaches."

He gave them to the doctor, who also said "These are the same prescription."

"But I can't see!"

"But its the same."

"But I can't see. See, I get bad headaches. And everything is wavy. And I can't see."

"I don't know. They are the same."

"BUT THEY DON'T WORK!"

"Maybe you need a different frame or something. We'll get a new frame." For the love of god. The lenses with the chip in that exact frame worked fine.

Then... like magic... a German shaped puppet appeared in my mind (think Team America)and I thought "Wait! German said that maybe... just maybe... if you bend your glasses a certain way, they will magically work!"

Just as I thought this, the doctor said "Or, perhaps its the angle..."

"Might you try to bend them?"

"We'll see what we can do."

He disappeared for about five minutes, returned, and voila! I could see.

They said "You're just very sensitive to your prescription."

Yes. I am very sensitive to being able to see appropriately. They said "Make sure you don't drop those because then you won't be able to see" as though its my fault that the angle was weird.

Whatever.

At least now I won't have to ever go back there or hopefully to any eye type place for the next few years.

And it has been confirmed, once more, that German is brilliant.

And that blogs are useful.

Rage

I rarely get mad. I'm more of a sad type. When I do get mad, I freak out, a lot, and yell about whatever's making me mad to people who aren't involved with the madness-inducing incident or person. People generally think this is cute and don't take me seriously, which makes me even more mad.

Because I don't get mad often, when I do get mad I can't really deal with it. Especially when I'm mad to the point where I feel like I should probably deal with it. And then I get freaked out, because I feel really mad and pissed and victimized and can't deal with that on top of knowing that I need to confront something in order to feel better.

Tonight I am extremely pissed off. Livid. Going fucking nuts. It's not serious. It's my fucking glasses. Again. I am pissed off because I gave these glasses people a ridiculous amount of money and they can't do their job. If your job is to cut lenses, then just cut lenses!!!!

The sequence of events:

Monday - purchase two pairs of glasses
Tuesday - pick up glasses but both glasses are incorrect prescription (and, both are different incorrect prescriptions, which is weird, because they're supposed to be cut from the same glass)
Friday - pick up glasses again and they are correct prescription!
Saturday - have to to back because glasses were incorrectly adjusted and are crooked
Sunday - have to go back again because noticed a chip in one lens and glue on other lens of one pair
Monday - pick up new glasses, again... note: this is the THIRD PAIR
Tuesday - packing for Thanksgiving and want to see self in third pair of conservative pair, start watching TV, and realize right eye is fucking WRONG PRESCRIPTION AGAIN

Now.

I have been to this place, which is nowhere near where I work or live, 6 out of the last 9 days.

I gave them tons of money.

Fucking inexcusable.

I went last week knowing that I'd be able to wear my new glasses which actually fit and are not disintegrating home for Thanksgiving.

I don't have time for this!!! Who has time for this!??!? And I paid LOTS OF MONEY for this!!!!

So now, tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving, I have to go back AGAIN. I will not be able to wear conservative pair home for Thanskgiving. I am pissed about having to do this, as it is going to rain tomorrow and as I will be rushing around trying to finish IP's and tissue culture in order to leave by 3 pm to get to my train in time.

I have to go there and force myself to throw a fit. I should have thrown a fit last time. I just couldn't do it because Roommate was there and I felt calm. Some people are good at fit-throwing. I am just not the type. I try to be patient. Right now I am impatient. How do you good fit-throwers do it? You don't back down. You rule.

I have to demand my money back. I think what I am going to do is pay for the frames and demand the money back on the lenses and just have lenses made somewhere else, because this is fucking absurd. Hopefully they'll then say "No! Don't do that - we'll give you the money back on the lenses and we'll make them again for you. In fact, we'll give you the money back on the frames, too, for all your inconvenience."

Right.

I have to be firm.

Man am I pissed.

Procrastination

I have never been the type to procrastinate. I've been accused of being "too productive." I always had the paper written weeks in advance and started studying for finals a month before finals.

I do, however, procrastinate one thing and one thing only. Packing. I can't stand it. I just did millions of dishes to procrastinate packing. I am now sitting on my bed blogging, submerged in a pile of socks and lip sticks and books I might bring and way too many shirts for four days, in order to procrastinate.

I don't know what it is about packing. I loathe it. I despite it above all else. And its only packing for trips. I didn't have issues with packing to move. I was all over it. I did it gradually over weeks so it never really got out of control.

But man. Packing for a few days is torture. I think its because you have to limit what you bring, and as a girl this is infuriating. I'd love nothing more than to bring three different pairs of shoes and all forty three pairs of glasses and every possible skin product and enough clothing options to cover whatever happens with the weather. Like sweaters, shirts, blouses, and two different coats just in case.

But no. It all needs to fit in one bag and can't weigh too much.

It's much easier in the summer because the clothes are smaller and there's not much variability with the weather.

OK.

Now I am going to, ahem, pack.

One more thing: Theo from The Cosby Show got HOT. I know this because I was watching the 80's Retrosexual nonsense on VH1 to procrastinate.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all if I don't blog tomorrow, and hope to see some of you this weekend!

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Genre: Emo Drama!
Date: 11.22.04



Description:

I think the song speaks for itself. I'm still sad about this so wrote a song that involves some really bad singing. Things got a little messy (complicated) when I recorded this. The high end is a little too high, and the low end is a little too low so sometimes inaudible. The actual version on an actual piano is much better than the recording. At some point I'll have to go back and record it live. Nevertheless, thanks ladies for listening, and special thanks to N and M for your advice and for, ahem, some of the lyrics.

Lyrics:

Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't tell
Remain delusional

We're chatting, we're sickening, one thing leads to another like it always does
From the way you're behaving I don't think to ask if there's anyone involved but us
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love

Ten years ago I was your world
Now I'm just a notch in your belt, some skanky girl, a story to tell
From the rooftop I told you I loved you
Then crawled into his bed knowing I'd never say those words to him
Still I pretended he didn't exist
I didn't let myself see your face but I still thought of you in his embrace

You must think I'm desperate, pathetic
I take back all the loving things I said and especially what I did
I trust noone else but you but not today
You're losing me
By forcing me to be who I used to be
Give me the choice, let me decide
I can't believe its come down to this
I never imagined something could end us

We're bad at being friends, cuz we can't be just friends
Lying and lying in a fight
To maintain this bullshit in our lives
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love

Never Will I Get Used to This (or I Am Absolutely Star Struck)

So after having a quick lunch today and dropping my purple pants off to be hemmed, I arrived back at work to see the street blocked off in front of my building and a bunch of bystanders standing around, not knowing what was going on.

I thought "Well, I might as well stand around for a bit since I'm in an incubation, and whatever it is will probably be more exciting than Freddie Prinze, Jr."

A jeep drove by with some cameras in it...

Followed by a bunch of NYPD and various other vehicles including...

A gigantic truck on which sat U2.

Now.

I am not a fan of U2, but Bono is a superstar, megastar, star star star.

The truck, which had a huge open bed and the entire band set up with instruments etc., stopped right in front of my building for a minute, during which U2 chatted with us.

Bono said "Hi" to us and I said "Hello" and the Edge nodded at me and sort of tilted his guitar in my direction.

And then they left. They were about 5 feet away. Freaking bizarre. Apparently they are filming at TV spot under the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon.

It's all very surreal, because this happened while I was at work.

Again, not a fan, but I'd like to say that Bono (and the rest) is larger than life (even in person) and is just a nice guy. They didn't need to stop and talk to us. They didn't even need to let people know that they were there. Instead, they decided to make a bunch of people's days and be friendly.

Many people were giddy (literally squealing) in the elevator after this happened.

This is the first time I ever thought "Why don't I have a camera phone!?"

New York rocks.

Storm Troopers

I think I feel settled after this weekend.

I spent Friday night being "productive" after I got a bit sidetracked by a movie being filmed on the streets of Williamsburg starring Freddie Prinze Jr., who is not at all attractive in real life. I cleaned the apartment, wrote a song, and got nearly 13 hours of sleep.

On Saturday I completed writing the song and then went to the movies with E. We went to see "Ray," which I didn't particularly want to see, but had to see because E is a film student and sees everything the minute it comes out. One work to describe Ray: Amazing. I didn't expect to like it, but it blew my mind away. Jamie Foxx was exquisite. You should all see it. It was very powerful. We didn't go to dinner because the movie was really long and I had to get back to the Burg for a show at Galapagos. It was surf rock show that was supposed to begin at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and the show didn't start until around 9:45, which was agony because I was by myself just sitting there for an hour. The show began with a god awful "film" set to music by the opening band. More agony. It was an art film with scenes that not only didn't make any sense, but just went on and on forever. Like a bride in black and white on a swing set for 10 minutes. And then two brides! And then THREE!!! The film ended and they needed to set up for the opening band, which took about an hour. The opening band wasn't bad - they were sort of a not-as-developed Low - but I realized three seconds into the set that going to a show when you have an ear infection is a bad idea. I left three songs into it and called my friend D, who "met me" at the show but didn't actually meet up with me because he and his friends wanted to chill near the bathroom (where there were less people) and I didn't want to because I had a sweet spot with a chair. Yay adult rock show. D and his two friends came over and we hung out in the loft for a bit. It was nice to have visitors.

And today I slept late again and then went to the Comics Expo with Roommate. It was very overwhelming and full of wonderful toys, all of which we wanted. We decided that we will have to find loads of money before the next Expo, which is in January.

I was disappointed, though, because I really wanted to get a Flava Flav clock for cheap, but they did not have it. Nor did they have a Snoop Dogg action figure. They did, however, have Nelly. But I don't want Nelly.

On our way out, we met some storm troopers! We were so smitten and just generally flustered after having met them that we took the train uptown instead of downtown. Luckily we realized it and just backtracked. I wanted to go back up and get the storm troopers' phone numbers since we had to go back there, but we decided to go home instead. And now we are home, looking at the photo. Sigh.

Storm_Troopers, originally uploaded by leah_lar.

Since I've Been Talking About My New Glasses Non-stop....

.... Here they are!!! I picked them up tonight and they actually had the right lenses in them this time!


Fabulous old red glasses that I will always love!

New everyday conservative pair that I am wearing as I type!

Cheap pair I got because I am a guinea, but now that I've spent hours in that place, I realize that they give everybody deals for one reason or another, so it wasn't really a deal at all. I am so gullible. But I love the glasses, so I don't care.

I realize I am insane. I am going to spend no money for the next few weeks to make up for the insanity.

But you have to admit the new glasses are tres cute.

Wu Tang Is For the Children! (or Ear Infections Aren't Just For Children)

Hello friends.

Some observations:

1. The other night after the glasses fiasco I decided to assuage my disappointment by rewarding myself with a walk-through of DSW. If I found boots, that would be even better (incidentally, my horoscope today said that I should think about buying a pair of boots - weird). I walked in and saw very cute pocketbooks on display, and thought "I need a pocketbook and those pocketbooks on display are cute!" I went over to them and looked at the price tag and thought "Why the hell are these pocketbooks in DSW priced at $400?" Then I overheard these two women say "Oh, *there* are the Prada bags!" Now. Do the DSW's in MA sell Prada and Versace and I just never noticed, or is this a uniquely NY phenomenon? Ladies, help me! I just don't know!

2. "Tarnation" was total masturbation. I have been aching to see this movie for quite some time. In fact, I have been trying to see it for the last six weeks. I finally went to see it last night and was disappointed. Yes, he had an awful life. Yes, its cool that he had video from his youth. But the video didn't tell the story. What's the point of making a movie if you have to explain the story in text? Granted, he didn't have storyline footage from when he was 10. Granted, his life sucked. Moreso than I can imagine. The payoff was amazing, though. The last 20 or so minutes are phenomenol. The first 70 were torture.

3. The good thing, though, was that I cried during the ending, which made me realize that my mood-shift may, in fact, just be PMS. Woo hoo!!!

4. Or my mood-shift might be correlated with my ear infection. I spent three hours waiting today in a super sketchy clinic thing downtown. I was finally seen by a doctor who gave me 10-days-worth of antibiotics. Two a day. Awshummmm. M convinced me last night that sleeping a lot wouldn't make an ear infection go away, and that I had to go to a doctor. But I don't have one. Nor do I have any idea how to find one. I went online last night and wrote down the names of "providers," and called some this morning. They all have weird hours - like Wednesdays 2 - 6 or something. Then I called my health insurance and they were like "You should go to Urgent Care" so I'm like "OK, where?" and they could only find TWO and both were in NJ. I kept saying "But I work in Manhattan - you mean to tell me that there's no urgent care on the entire island?" and they're like "Yes, this is what we're telling you." Idiots. I ended up calling R and asking him if he has a doctor, which he doesn't, but he walks by a Family Care place on the way to work, which is where I ended up going, because they accept walk-ins. And why doesn't insurance tell people this? Idiots.

5. The doctor was like "When was the last time you went to the gynecologist?" and I said "I have no idea." "When was the last time you had a breast exam?" "I don't know, like 6 years ago?" "When was the last time you had your cholestrol checked?" "Dunno, but I know it was good?" When he was finished checking my ear, he said "You know, you should really make some appointments to have other things checked out." Yes, yes, I know. I know. Especially now that I'm, ahem, pushing 30. He's right. I got to thinking - why is it that I don't do these things? Other people do these things. Other people are concerned. I thought about it for a while, and realized it comes from being raised by a family of people who are health-obsessed hypochondriacs, who discuss health non-stop, and who adore failing health. Who's having what test, what symptoms they displayed, how they realized they were dying. Every sniffle could mean death. Not going to the doctor is some pathetic form of rebellion.

6. Which brings me back to *Tarnation.* There is a powerful moment in it in which Jonathan is talking to the camera (being melodramatic and masturbatory, but still powerful) and says something like "I'm afraid I'm going to end up like my mother."

7. So yes. I have an ear infection. Instead of rushing home to start the antibiotics regiment, I went out for drinks with my coworkers. While I was there all I could think was "Man, would I like to be in bed starting antibiotics!" I'm totally serious. Ear infections suck.

8. But not as much as kidney stones.

9. My boss went on a date tonight. It was very cute. I was stuck late at work and still do not have access to the radiation room, so I called him to ask when he would be leaving so I could borrow his badge to get in. He said "I can't stay late tonight because I have a date, and, unlike you, I am going to go on it." Heh. My boss and I don't really talk anything but shop. The other day when I was writing the email to Intimate Apparel about being in "friend mode" my boss came up behind me to ask me about something science and said "Are you ok? You look like you're in severe pain." I explained to him that I was lying to someone, and that it was causing me severe pain. Now, apparently, we can relate since we both "date."

10. My final thought of the day is that subway musicians in NY rock. After sketchy clinic today there was a FABULOUS doo-wop quartet singing underground. In NYC the musicians you hear in the subway stations are musicians you'd pay lots of money to hear. Oftentimes I let three or four trains pass before I get on, just so I can keep listening.

OK. My eyes are burning from being overtired and my ear is throbbing, so I must sleep. But how awesome is it that I can blog from bed?!?!? Yippee!!!

Sleep

I slept for ten hours last night and that worries me.

I am worried because either I am still sick (which is possible because my ears are really hurting, thus making me paranoid about ear infections, an experience I'd care not to repeat) or my mood is shifting. I don't know which is worse. I think its my mood, though, and I think its because I've been unproductive. I haven't worked on music in forever. I really need to get back to it. Nevertheless...

Ten hours of sleep is cool because you have lots of dreams.

The only one I remember is one where I was moving into a new apartment with two
new roommates - one was fictional and the other was Anna Nicole Smith. The house was a three story home with wall-to-wall carpeting (I think this is based on M's gigantic apartment, which has carpets) that I was orgasmic over. Like I was so thrilled about the carpets and was rolling around on the floors being like "You guys! CARPETS!!!!" The house was built by my fabulous former landlord Joe, who in real life is a saint and who in the dream built all sorts of wall storage for us. He also built an addition on the top of the house so that I had my own master bedroom and bathroom and recording studio. I thought my roommates would be jealous of my suite, but Anna Nicole said "No, don't worry, you need this. We understand." I was then supposed to go to a show at the Middle East or something so I took the train there and was stood up by whoever I was supposed to be meeting. (It also wasn't the Middle East as much as it was a Mexican restaurant.) And then there wasn't a show, but I did meet Jimmy Fallon. So I tried to get back to my house but couldn't find it! I was lost. I kept calling Anna Nicole and she kept saying "You know where it is. You'll find it" but I couldn't. And they were decorating without me and all I wanted to do was see the carpet again.

So I think this is a finding-yourself type of dream, and might be related to the mood issues. Don't know. I think it just indicates that I want "a home" - and that's what the carpets represent. The exact opposite of concrete floors, which is what I have in NY.

H.O.P.E.

The Knitting Factory (in NYC) and a group called H.O.P.E. (Horrified Observers of Pedestrian Entertainment)are offering to help out all of the stupid people who bought Ashlee Simpson's CD! In exchange for their copies of Autobiography, these people can get CD's of "higher entertainment quality" such as Elvis Costello and Ray Charles.

http://www.hopeinamerica.com

I think I am going to join! Woo hoo!!!!

Karma Officially Trampled (or The Future Is Now)

The Future is now! I am blogging via wireless internet in my bedroom!!!

I had hoped to post photos of my fabulous new glasses but, alas, karma is alive and kicking and my glasses were the wrong prescriptions. Both wrong. In different ways. I put them on and my eyes crossed and with insta-headache pounding I thought "Of course."

Allegedly I can pick them up on Friday if Karma is satisfied.

Friend Mode (or Trampled Karma)

So I am ignoring the results from the poll I took.

I know you all voted for me to go out with Intimate Apparel, but I have decided not to.

See. The thing is that I met him a month ago, wasn't too thrilled about him then, haven't actually spoken to him for more than 10 minutes since, and dammit, I have better things to do with my time, such as pick up my new glasses tonight!

I took a brief poll of coworkers, and their suggestions were:

1. Lie
2. Lie or
3. Lie.

Now. I see the benefits of lying. I really do. But. I didn't want to lie by saying I was sick, or that I double booked, or that I had to work late. These things are all implied lies and he'd know I was lying, so what is the point? Plus, by saying any of those things I'd be implying that there might be a point in time when I wasn't sick, or didn't have other plans, or got out of work on time.

Various voters at work said to tell him "I don't want a relationship" or "Anthing serious" or "I only want to be friends," but these things are not true. Really, what I should say is "I don't want any sort of relationship with you" or "I seriously don't want to see you" or "I only want to be friends with people who aren't you." If I said any of the lie variants, he could counter and then I'd have to lie again. And again. And then again. One voter at work said to claim that I am in "friend mode" right now, which I liked, and which is mostly true. I think people who are new to places really need to find where they fit in before they start dating - and that involves spending time with friends and picking up two new pairs of glasses.

So I emailed him and said I suck and am scattered and told my coworkers I'd go out with them which I think that I should since I am in "friend mode."

Friend mode. Heh.

I said things will be crazy during and after the holidays, but that I could call him after the craziness settles down but I'd understand if he didn't want me to.

See!!! Now he gets to reject me by ignoring the email I sent! And everyone feels fabulous!!!!

Everyone except my karma, which is shot to shit. But how many times have men done this to me? And at least I didn't ignore him completely like I would have in the old days!

I don't know what my problem is. Is it intimacy issues or the fact that I desperately want my new glasses? How am I to know?

Glasses, glasses, and then more glasses

After work last night I went into Union Square to replace my somewhat broken glasses. I first went to a place called Union Square Optical which accepts my vision insurance. They were utterly disinterested in helping me find glasses, which is absurd when all of the glasses are in cases. Frustrated with the salesforce, I walked across the street to a less-than-sophisticated place with many deals on glasses.

Their selection wasn't fabulous, but the salesforce was hilarious. I was initially working with one chick who was annoyed that I wanted to try on more than five pairs of glasses. Now. This woman wears glasses so she must understand the importance of having a good pair. It's your face. You have to see it every day. It is crucial that you have glasses you like. The five I tried on were all hideous. She dished me off to another woman.

This woman was a riot. There was a very well-dressed and attractive British man in the store who I kept asking for advice about my glasses since the women in the store weren't, well, the most stylish of folks. He disappeared around the corner to have his eyes checked, and this woman says "Man, would I like to do him!" Heh. I said, quietly, "Me too, actually." She said "Yeah, but his lips are thin. I have no use for thin lips. I'm Italian." I agreed. Then she said "He's gay, anyway, and has thin lips. Who needs 'im?"

She was patient with me and told me her life story while I stared at myself for hours in different pairs of glasses. I narrowed it down to two. I chose the pair that most people in the store preferred and had her charge me for it. After she charged me, she whispered "Because you're a guinea I'll cut you a deal - I'll give you that second pair for $200." Shit. That is a good deal, but the first pair wasn't a good deal. I talked them down on the first pair by threatening to go elsewhere with my vision insurance. And its not like I need more glasses because I clearly already have too many. But $200 for an adorable pair of glasses? You can't beat that!

I gave in and she whispered "I'm only doing this for ya because your Sicilian," which is weird, because I never told her I was Sicilian. I said "How can you tell?" and she said "I've dated your kind."

She ran my credit card through again, and it wouldn't go through. She tried many times with no luck. She finally called Master Card and the Master Card dude wanted to talk to me on the phone. He asked me my mother's maiden name and then said they just wanted to make sure everything was fine since there'd been an unusual amount of activity on my card that day. I confirmed my Amtrak purchase (Thanksgiving!) and then my double glasses purchase.

So how awesome would it be if someone stole your credit card and used it to buy tons of glasses? I'd be psyched. A glasses-buying rampage scheme of mass proportions! Purple frames! Wire frames! Perscription sunglasses! Freaking awesome.

After my purchase I grabbed a slice of pizza at Pronto Pizza and Chinese Food. While there, a homeless man approached me and asked me for some money. Since I'd just spent a ton of money, I thought "Well, I can't be that selfish. I'll give the dude a dollar." I gave him a dollar and then watched him walk around the rest of Pronto asking for money, and realized the dude had a really nice walkman and a better coat than me. Right.

I then went to see The Incredibles which was perfect. And timely considering the class I am taking right now. I got a lot of the comic jokes that I'd probably have missed had I not taken this class.

Normally I like to go to movies by myself (and will most likely be doing a lot of that here), but I noticed last night some bad things about going to movies by oneself. Such as:

1. You can't multitask - I got there a bit later than I'd have preferred, and when that happens, you usually say "You get seats, you get food, while I run to the bathroom." But I could only do one of those things at a time, which caused me to ....

2. End up sitting on the side of the theater (no aisle seats remaining!) where I was seated under one of those overheard lights and felt like I was either on stage or going blind and I had nobody to complain to!

3. When you are by yourself, you look even more ridiculous spazzing out to the preview for Revenge of the Sith than you would if you were with your dorky friends.

4. You have nobody to say "Man, I can't freaking wait for the Johnny Depp Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" to.

And as far as more glasses go, today is our Health and Safety Fair where I will be getting prescription safety glasses! And a cholesterol test, if there's enough time.

ODB R.I.P.

A piece of me has died along with the knowledge that Ol' Dirty Bastard, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Big Baby Jesus is dead.

In honor of ODB, I will take this opportunity to remind you of the following link. Enjoy. And feel free to post your results in honor of ODB.

http://www.recordstore.com/wuname/wuname.pl

(Incidentally, I am reminded of our original discovery of this website and how some of us tried to figure out the algorithm. Man were we cool back then!)

Word from Superintendant God-Botherer.

Sniff.

Fung Wah

My sister came to visit this weekend. We had a marvelous time. I'd forgotten just how lovely it is to have close girl friends in your proximity. I guess I successfully managed to forget how much I miss her. It was great to see her, but incredibly sad to see her go.

She arrived late on Friday night due to stupid weather. We opted not to go out and instead sat up late catching up (my sister is even worse than me at the phone, which is hard to believe!) and drinking bad wine and eating good cheese and strawberries.

On Saturday we went for breakfast at Relish, where I had amazing onion rings. Hmmmm. We then walked aimlessly around Williamsburg (I'd hoped to cross one of the movies off my list of Seven-Movies-To-See-Before-Thansgiving but by the time we motivated to get out of the house there was no way we could fit one in) and then around the Village, where, drum roll please, I acquired purple pants! They were far too expensive and don't actually fit, but they require only a hem so there is hope!

We then ate dinner at the vegetarian restaurant in Williamsburg. Why is vegetarian food always so dry? I don't understand. We went back to the loft feeling bloated and tired, but managed to rally to go to a show with Roommate and her friend L in SoHo. Roommate has been so excited for this show and was therefore devastated when we arrived to the 8:00 show at 8:30 to find out that the box office closed at 8.

When does that ever happen? Since when do shows start on time? Like we got there and the show was going on and there wasn't even a door! We had to press a buzzer and we were like "We're here for the show?" and they were like "The Box Office Is Closed." It was all very Wizard of Oz. Then a dude appeared and said very zen-ly "Why didn't you get here at 7:30?" Why ever would we have done that? We ended up grabbing a few drinks at some lame place in the East Village, where my sister and I felt like imposters. I felt really really really lonely.

We journeyed back to Williamsburg where we met up with some of Roommate's friends and a friend of mine from work, D, and his friends. Some weird kid approached my sister and I the second we were alone and said "What do you guys do?" and then "Are you guys Jewish?" and "How do you know each other?" We told him we were both 25% Sicilian and from the same area but still he had no idea we were sisters. I admired his courage, though, and have to admit it was cute when he yelled across the bar to his friend "We have two Italians here!"

My friend D, his friends, my sister and I then went back to the loft to chill, drink some water, eat some sesame sticks, decompress. We tried then to meet up with Roommate et. al. at a party at our realtor's loft. Now. I am not a big fan of the realtor. In fact, I just don't like him. I don't like him because he is smarmy and exudes desparation and is a lovesick puppy towards Roommate. He thinks he is ultra cool and he is not.

Roommate told us she'd meet us but didn't appear for a while. I didn't want to go to the party without her because clearly I know the realtor and clearly he did not invite me. That's crashing. That's not cool. Our hatred for each other is mutual. We waited in the lobby of his building for a long time, while everyone except me became increasingly frustrated. Finally Roommate appeared, and we all walked up to the third floor.

There, we were asked to remove our shoes. There were hundreds of shoes in the hallway. There was a dude there who was paid to watch our shoes. Ridiculous. Realtor thinks he's so cool. We removed our shoes after throwing many fits, and then walked into the party where a dude checked our coats for us. Also ridiculous. Realtor's loft is fanastic - its called The Green Room and has green stained hardwood floors and amazing lighting and furniture and atmosphere. He'd hired three DJ's. There was a disco ball and lighting and fog. It was a rave inside. Realtor was wearing black silk pajamas and being ultra-smarmy and ultra-desperate. He has an 8x10 shag rug in his apartment and sitting on it were about 20 catatonic drugged-out hipsters doing nothing but looking angsty and tired. The party was awful, but worth the stories.

Yesterday we slept in too late again and went for breakfast and then did nothing all day but discuss what sort of guinea pig my sister should get.

Last night she was slated to take the Fung Wah bus out of New York. Last time she tried to do this, she missed the one she was scheduled for and had to take one an hour later, which was late, so it was a fiasco. This time she swore getting there half an hour early would solve all of the problems.

We got there 15 minutes early, but there were, no joke, at least 300 people waiting in line for the next bus. And no bus came. And when no bus came, I said "When is the bus coming?" and nobody knew. I said "All of these people are holding tickets - so there will be more than one bus?" and they said "No" and I said "What are they to do?" and they said "They will all get on the bus."

I said "Yes, but, they all have tickets for the 6:00 bus and there's only one bus."

They said "No, 7:00."

I said, "No, 6:00."

"6:30!!!!"

"OK, well, its 6:30 and the 6:00 bus hasn't come nor has the 6:30, so when do you suppose these buses are coming?"

"6:00!"

"No, no, see, these people all have tickets for the same bus that was supposed to come half an hour ago and we're just wondering what you intend to do."

"Just wait in line..."

"NO! But see, we're just wondering if they should make other plans to get home, because this is freaking ridiculous."

"I'll find you in line..."

"No, but really, like, is the bus actually coming at all?"

"Don't know. Ask the window."

I went to the window and said "Listen, when is the 6:00 bus going to get here?"

"How should I know?"

I nearly lost my mind.

This all took place over 45 minutes in the freezing cold in a line of 300 irritable, anxious, teeth-chattering people.

I just don't understand how they can't be communicating with the buses. Like really. How hard could that possibly be?!?!? And I don't understand why they refuse to give out any information. At least at Peter Pan, when they oversell a bus, they tell you and try to keep you calm and explain to you your options. Fung Wah apparently oversells their buses 3-fold and then expects nobody to care. Why can't they just be honest?

After trying to deal with these people I found my sitser in line and found that a group of Bostonians around her had been calling other methods of transporations, and there were no flights or Peter Pan buses that weren't sold out. I felt their pain. They decided to take the Acela, but too late. They said "We will take the 7:00!" and I said "No you won't, there's no way you're going to make it." They said "But we will take a cab!" and I said "No way. Not going to make it. Traffic."

I have so much expertise now in the public transit woes of the New York/Boston commute.

My sister jumped in a cab with three other people from Boston and they went to Penn Station without getting a refund from fucking Fung Wah.

At 7:45 she called to say she'd be taking the 8:00.

At 9:00 she called to say that the 8:00 had been delayed indefinitely in Newark due to mechanical problems.

At 9:30 she called to say she was on the train and that she'd be getting to Boston at 1:30. She said they'd joked with the cab driver who offered to take them to Boston for $400. They should have just done that.

In response to my text message "Did you get home ok?" this morning, my sister sent the following message:

3:30.

Fuck.

I feel awful. But mostly because I am afraid this experience will deter her from ever coming to NYC again.

So, dear readers, when you come to visit, do not take the Fung Wah. You get what you pay for.

I haven't done a minute of work today. Mondays suck.

French Toast

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....

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.

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:

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. ;)

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Best Thing In the World Is....

Having amazing girlfriends who will bash men with you.

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.