Yes, it was too short. Far too short. I am not relaxed. There was not enough time. There is never enough time.
Although I bet there would be enough time if one lived in western MA where everything closes at 8 pm.
Vacation in review (photos forthcoming):
- Woke up too early on Friday in order to get train from Grand Central to New Haven. On the way out the door D accidentally clocked me in the face with his extremely heavy duffel bag. We took a cab to Grand Central because I am slow when carrying a bag that weighs 1/3 of my body. D walked ahead of me through Grand Central without noticing that I was lagging behind due to my heavy bag. It felt as though I was being dragged around. I finished reading The Voice on the train and started reading The Confessions of Max Tivoli, and oh! the guilty pleasure of a romance novel disguised as serious fiction.
- We picked up the car in New Haven and I decided that I don't want to live there. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant where I made my own burrito and became less bitchy after finally eating something. D suggested that we go to Amherst because he wants to know everything about me. I consented to the detour because it meant a lot to him, and because he said "But you said the best cookies ever are at UMass!" "Yes, I did," I said, "but I can't eat cookies anymore." "Not even the best cookies ever?" "Yes, you're right," I said, and we headed in the direction of Amherst. I hadn't counted onrevisiting a place I lived for four years not feeling at all like vacation.
- We drove through Hadley and I was mortified. Media Play is gone. Everything is gone, replaced by chains and big business and freaking Target and Best Buy and other businesses that have no business being in Hadley. The movie theater has changed. D said "It's because college students have more money now." "Fuckers," I said. We parked near Hasbrouke because it was raining. Lots. We ran around the construction surrounding the campus center and I practically skipped into The Blue Wall, where I was mortified to find that the bakery is gone! GONE! Entirely! "Maybe they're at The Hatch now?" I said. I ran through the arcade in The Student Union and The Hatch was closed! NOOOO!!!! I stopped at the table that was distributing caps and gowns and said "Look, this is a weird question, but anyway, I went here a million years ago and The Blue Wall had the best chocolate chip cookies in the world and... do you know if I can get them somewhere else? Like did they move the bakery?" She said they were still available, wrapped individually, in The Blue Wall deli section. Yes! We ran back and no, there weren't any. NOOOO!!!!
- D wanted to go into town to check out some bike shop after we drove by Orchard Hill. I was surprised to see D overwhelmed by something. "It's so big..." he said, losing his sense of direction. I stood out in the rain staring at Amherst while he stared at bikes. We went to Mystery Train together. D went to Food For Thought and whatever that other record store was next door. While he spent too much money on used CDs, I spent too much money on clothes at Zanna. I finally bought a pair of shorts (I haven't bought shorts in like 7 years - nobody looks good in shorts! nobody!). I chatted with the ladies behind the desk about my nostalgia for the town. "I'm happy you're still here," I said. "Everything is changing."
- D wanted food so we went to Antonio's but he was too overwhelmed, again. "Let's go to Amber Waves," I suggested. It was gone. I think I knew that, but I was hopeful. We ended up at some new Thai place that had decent enough noodles and what D claimed was the best Thai iced tea he had ever had. We went to Newbury Comics and then got back on the road.
- We got to the hotel at around 8:30. They had DVD's available, including a DVD of a fireplace. Heh. It seemed decent enough. The room was fabulous, the bathroom bigger than my former apartment, complete with tub and gigantic shower stall with verticle gigantic shower head. Delicious.
- Things took a turn for the worse when we learned that restaurants in the area stop seating at 9:00. I was starving, of course. They had given us chocolates but needless to say I couldn't eat those. D said "I'll go to the grocery store. What do you want?" "I don't know!" I said, "I can't eat anything anymore!" We went back and forth for about half an hour and finally I said "Why don't you just go and get something for yourself?" He did.
- I spent the next half an hour crying and feeling bad for myself, until I sat in the bathtub where I cried all of the hunger and craving out before D's return.
- D returned with a sub from Subway. "The supermarket, and everything else, is closed," he said. "Do you want me to get you a sub?" "No," I said, "Because I don't want to eat at a chain on vacation." He ate his sub while I read more of my guilty pleasure, trying not to focus on the food I wasn't eating.
- I was exhausted but couldn't sleep, because I kept thinking of the last one and how he'd searched the entire planet for calcium-less multivitamins and turned up one day with chewable gummy children's vitamins saying "You have to take these because I want you to be healthy and not have any kidney stones" and how I gave him such a big hug and how ridiculously spoiled I was before this and how in the past the bathtub was something very, very, very exciting and how I felt very pretty and very important. I snuck out into the rain and ended up reading in the lobby cottage until around 3:30 am, when D appeared and said he was "worried" and wanted to know what was going on and when I started to tell him he seemed disinterested. I consented to going back to bed if and only if we could watch our Clive Owen rental, which turned out to be boring and sleep-inducing, thankfully.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Humidity
I spent a great portion of my free time at work over the past month searching for the perfect alarm clock. I decided that I absolutely required, without compromise, an alarm clock with dual alarms and different sonic options for alarm that would also tell me the weather. After much investigation, I found an awesome one from Sony that looked like it met all of my criteria, but when I saw it in person I decided that it was too big.
I couldn't find an alarm clock that indicated the weather that was also cool.
I didn't know what to do.
D and I, while looking for curtains, found ourselves in this cool modern furniture type store in Hell's Kitchen. The store had an amazing collection of funky/darling alarm clocks, none of which met any of my criteria.
I ended up buying one anyway. It's awesome. It is white, modern, minimal, and doesn't light up unless you press a button. When you do press the button, the display alternates between a bunch of different colors, including purple. It's hypnotic. I love this clock.
It does not, however, have a dual alarm. Nor does it have options for alarm volume or alarm content. It doesn't even have a radio. But it is so cute to look at.
What it does have is an internal temperature sensor. It displays the temperature and humidity of the room that it's in. I instantly became obsessed, poking D to say "Can you believe it's 76 degrees in here?" or "It's down to 67! No wonder we need the blanket!" or "Whoa! 76% humidity inside? Is that possible?" I suggested collecting data and plotting quality of sleep vs. temperature. D is unimpressed, but is happy that I am happy.
The reason I mention any of this is because last night, with the air conditioner on, it was 81 degrees in my bedroom. This summer is going to be ugly.
I couldn't find an alarm clock that indicated the weather that was also cool.
I didn't know what to do.
D and I, while looking for curtains, found ourselves in this cool modern furniture type store in Hell's Kitchen. The store had an amazing collection of funky/darling alarm clocks, none of which met any of my criteria.
I ended up buying one anyway. It's awesome. It is white, modern, minimal, and doesn't light up unless you press a button. When you do press the button, the display alternates between a bunch of different colors, including purple. It's hypnotic. I love this clock.
It does not, however, have a dual alarm. Nor does it have options for alarm volume or alarm content. It doesn't even have a radio. But it is so cute to look at.
What it does have is an internal temperature sensor. It displays the temperature and humidity of the room that it's in. I instantly became obsessed, poking D to say "Can you believe it's 76 degrees in here?" or "It's down to 67! No wonder we need the blanket!" or "Whoa! 76% humidity inside? Is that possible?" I suggested collecting data and plotting quality of sleep vs. temperature. D is unimpressed, but is happy that I am happy.
The reason I mention any of this is because last night, with the air conditioner on, it was 81 degrees in my bedroom. This summer is going to be ugly.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Cheating On The Blog
I started a new blog and feel like I have been neglecting this one.
The new one isn't for the world. It's more of a memory exercise for me as my overstimulated brain seems unable to retain information anymore. It occurred to me on Sunday night, as I was watching Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, that I don't remember specifics about movies anymore. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance is part of a trilogy that started with Oldboy, which I loved. I cannot remember, however, specifics about Oldboy. Something about a man in prison. Was he framed? He gets out and seeks vengeance and ends up almost sleeping with his daughter. Why? What? I don't know! I can't remember! I know I liked it, but I don't know why I liked it and I don't really know what it was about.
I watch too many movies. I don't have time to allow things to settle and incorporate into my neurons. I go from one stimulus to another and nothing sticks.
The new blog is movie reviews. It will most likely also involve book and art and theater reviews, if I ever have time to read a book or look at art or afford theater again. This new blog is for me so when I think "Wait - what happened in 'Twelve and Holding?'" I can go back and read a summary of the plot and also what I thought about the movie immediately after seeing it.
I'm excited about the new blog. I think it will improve my writing and force me to consolidate my thoughts.
But I feel a little bad, because I am afraid I might neglect this blog. This blog is an emotional dump. I don't think things through. I just write. It's bare and honest. The new blog requires being organized and thoughtful and therefore requires actual time, time that will be taken away from this blog and other side projects like looking for Mediterranean cruises and investigating vegetarian diets that somehow don't involve sugar.
I'm sure its acceptable to have two blogs.
It is, right?
The new one isn't for the world. It's more of a memory exercise for me as my overstimulated brain seems unable to retain information anymore. It occurred to me on Sunday night, as I was watching Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, that I don't remember specifics about movies anymore. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance is part of a trilogy that started with Oldboy, which I loved. I cannot remember, however, specifics about Oldboy. Something about a man in prison. Was he framed? He gets out and seeks vengeance and ends up almost sleeping with his daughter. Why? What? I don't know! I can't remember! I know I liked it, but I don't know why I liked it and I don't really know what it was about.
I watch too many movies. I don't have time to allow things to settle and incorporate into my neurons. I go from one stimulus to another and nothing sticks.
The new blog is movie reviews. It will most likely also involve book and art and theater reviews, if I ever have time to read a book or look at art or afford theater again. This new blog is for me so when I think "Wait - what happened in 'Twelve and Holding?'" I can go back and read a summary of the plot and also what I thought about the movie immediately after seeing it.
I'm excited about the new blog. I think it will improve my writing and force me to consolidate my thoughts.
But I feel a little bad, because I am afraid I might neglect this blog. This blog is an emotional dump. I don't think things through. I just write. It's bare and honest. The new blog requires being organized and thoughtful and therefore requires actual time, time that will be taken away from this blog and other side projects like looking for Mediterranean cruises and investigating vegetarian diets that somehow don't involve sugar.
I'm sure its acceptable to have two blogs.
It is, right?
Caught
I went to a follow-up doctor's appointment this morning and it became apparent that they were not going to weigh me.
Because I've not been eating cookies and have changed by dietary habits in the past two weeks, I was curious to know if, perchance, I'd lost (or gained) any weight. Not that I'm trying to lose weight (although I should be; weight loss, however, is not the goal of this particular diet), but you understand. Curiosity.
After the nurse left, I decided that certainly I would be waiting for a long time and would therefore have enough time to weigh myself on the fancy (and accurate) doctor's-office-scale! For some reason, however, I felt really guilty about it. Like I was doing something terribly wrong.
I jumped on the scale and determined that I don't weigh 100 pounds. I dropped the big thing down to 50 and was trying to figure out what exactly I weigh when the doctor busted in on me.
I jumped from the scale as though I'd been caught stealing pills.
I was like "Oh... well... I was just weighing... I was curious... you know..." She said nothing.
I don't know what I weigh. I should have weighed myself after she left the room but I was so embarrassed.
And I don't really understand why.
Because I've not been eating cookies and have changed by dietary habits in the past two weeks, I was curious to know if, perchance, I'd lost (or gained) any weight. Not that I'm trying to lose weight (although I should be; weight loss, however, is not the goal of this particular diet), but you understand. Curiosity.
After the nurse left, I decided that certainly I would be waiting for a long time and would therefore have enough time to weigh myself on the fancy (and accurate) doctor's-office-scale! For some reason, however, I felt really guilty about it. Like I was doing something terribly wrong.
I jumped on the scale and determined that I don't weigh 100 pounds. I dropped the big thing down to 50 and was trying to figure out what exactly I weigh when the doctor busted in on me.
I jumped from the scale as though I'd been caught stealing pills.
I was like "Oh... well... I was just weighing... I was curious... you know..." She said nothing.
I don't know what I weigh. I should have weighed myself after she left the room but I was so embarrassed.
And I don't really understand why.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
What's The Deal With Quick Sand?
Last night I said "This memory foam is like f-ing quicksand!"
I hate the memory foam. We have memory foam so D's back won't hurt, but my back hurts because of the memory foam. The thing is that I'd rather have a hurting back than hear D complain about how much his back hurts. This being said, I shall complain now because this is my blog and I can complain if I want to.
I hate it hate it hate it hate it. I wake up feeling like I've run 50 miles. Last night I slept with a stuffed animal under my back so that my back wouldn't curve into the foam. In the past I could tolerate the memory foam because I could go back to my nice, normal mattress and undo the damage done by the foam. But now there is no relief. I cannot wait to get to the hotel on Friday and sleep on a normal mattress.
The point of all this is - what's the deal with quick sand? Does it really exist? If so, where? And what is it? And do people really sink into it? Do people die? If so, do they just disappear? Bizarre. I must investigate this afternoon. D said that he doesn't believe in quick sand. I'm not sure that I do either.
I hate the memory foam. We have memory foam so D's back won't hurt, but my back hurts because of the memory foam. The thing is that I'd rather have a hurting back than hear D complain about how much his back hurts. This being said, I shall complain now because this is my blog and I can complain if I want to.
I hate it hate it hate it hate it. I wake up feeling like I've run 50 miles. Last night I slept with a stuffed animal under my back so that my back wouldn't curve into the foam. In the past I could tolerate the memory foam because I could go back to my nice, normal mattress and undo the damage done by the foam. But now there is no relief. I cannot wait to get to the hotel on Friday and sleep on a normal mattress.
The point of all this is - what's the deal with quick sand? Does it really exist? If so, where? And what is it? And do people really sink into it? Do people die? If so, do they just disappear? Bizarre. I must investigate this afternoon. D said that he doesn't believe in quick sand. I'm not sure that I do either.
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Weekend In Review (alternate title: I Blew It With The Emperor)
1. Delicious Thai food and conversation with NR, who was happy to go to sleep on the couch early. Please keep your fingers crossed for her (and me) that she gets the job.
2. The Parents arriving in record time. They left MA shortly after 7am and arrived at 10:30. I put on clothes and made them a giant breakfast that we had nowhere to eat.
3. The Faith Healer with Mother. We gawked at Ralph Fiennes and enjoyed the play even though others have not. Mother lost her glasses but I found them after crawling around rather unglamorously after the play's conclusion. A good argument for not getting dressed up for the theater.
4. Ralph Fiennes allegedly signing autographs post-play. Mother was so very disappointed that we missed him, as she is a huge fan who checks his website often. We think we saw the back of his head, and remarked that he did not seem tall.
5. Meeting, ahem, THE EMPEROR, Ian McDiarmid, who was also (amazing) in the play. I was the biggest dweeb of all time. Did I maintain enough composure to have my picture taken with him? Of course not. I fumbled with my camera, begging Mother to take our photo, which I guess was asking too much. "But it's the emperor!" I kept saying. "Who? What's wrong with you?" Did I come up with something clever to say to him? Nope. Did I manage to remember even one good Emperor quote? Hell no. Did I pretend to shock him with evil Dark Side like projections from my fingers? Negative. Did I nervously shake his hand and say "The play... was... amazing... you were great..."? Oh yes. He thanked me and went on his way. Lame, I am.
6. Walking through crowds and the 9th Avenue International Food Festival (formerly believed to be The Hell's Kitchen Flea Market). I was disappointed in the lack of finger puppets (although they did have marionettes). I was a model of discipline and did not purchase a deep fried oreo. I did, however, sample bizarrely flavored kettlecorn. Mother shared a disturbing insight and we frantically talked through it before D and Father caught up with us after visiting Grant's Tomb and other uptown landmarks.
7. Barely making it to the roof. "It's worth it," I kept saying as they gasped walking slowly up the stairs. Father took a zillion photos of the view. I took a zillion photos of him taking photos, of D eating a mozzarippa, of my favorite building and the city looking like a facade.
8. Father napping. We chatted. Brother arrived and said "So you live on Sesame Street?"
9. Sarcastic and wonderfully silly waiter at dinner. Gnocchi melting in my mouth - yes! Brother's old friend with newly fabulous hair. Smiling. Laughing. Open window.
10. Cab to Bench Buddy's Farewell Party taking forever.
11. Bench Buddy's Farewall Party being too cold or too crowded, or for me, too trendy and too hurtful. Confrontation with VB. I almost slapped her. I hate apologizing for things that shouldn't matter to humor people (aka diffuse drama). I hate everyone.
12. Vowing to never hang out with coworkers ever. again.
13. Succombing in my own pet peeve - not saying good-bye - so as to avoid more drama and peer pressure from and by coworkers. Not caring. I walked away really upset, wanting to leave New York foreverandeverandever and whatiswrongwithpeoplehere, but felt better when Brother cared. People not-from-New-York make New York acceptable.
14. Brunch at restaurant with pink menus. Best french toast of all time - and berries! Mother flirting with gay waiter. This is new and adorable.
15. Talk of family trip - cruise? Meditteranean? Picky, nervous, not wanting to see things that aren't familiar such as Turkey. I convinced them that we should rent a villa. It's fun to fantasize, and even more fun to become the parent. Yes, I will look into it.
16. More street fair. Hell's Kitchen Flea Market. Almost a rain storm on us but HAH we made it inside just in time!
17. Strangers with Candy, a nap, brownies for some, good-byes.
18. Relief, decompression, sadness, alone again, missing the family, LBF, NR. Cleaning, laundry, photos, Sicilian villas, no bed and breakfasts in Northampton, Memoirs of a Geisha.
19. Too much guacamole on the burrito. Too much stress about western MA. But finally a hotel! A vacation! A spa nearby and I will buy myself a massage (and haircut?) because dear god I think I need one if only once ever because the memory foam is killing me. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance finished. No talking about it. Pretending to sleep.
20. Memoirs of a Geisha finished and not hated. 2am. Still not tired. Wanting someone to talk to. Wanting someone to notice. Wanting someone to ask. Remembering when we paid attention. Demanding attention and feeling better until the morning.
Summer hours begin this week! Only three more days and then The Berkshires and museums and not much else because apparently nothing happens in western MA until July. But this means more time to do nothing but read books and look at green things and eat and maybe, just maybe, breadsticks from Spaghetti Freddy's.
2. The Parents arriving in record time. They left MA shortly after 7am and arrived at 10:30. I put on clothes and made them a giant breakfast that we had nowhere to eat.
3. The Faith Healer with Mother. We gawked at Ralph Fiennes and enjoyed the play even though others have not. Mother lost her glasses but I found them after crawling around rather unglamorously after the play's conclusion. A good argument for not getting dressed up for the theater.
4. Ralph Fiennes allegedly signing autographs post-play. Mother was so very disappointed that we missed him, as she is a huge fan who checks his website often. We think we saw the back of his head, and remarked that he did not seem tall.
5. Meeting, ahem, THE EMPEROR, Ian McDiarmid, who was also (amazing) in the play. I was the biggest dweeb of all time. Did I maintain enough composure to have my picture taken with him? Of course not. I fumbled with my camera, begging Mother to take our photo, which I guess was asking too much. "But it's the emperor!" I kept saying. "Who? What's wrong with you?" Did I come up with something clever to say to him? Nope. Did I manage to remember even one good Emperor quote? Hell no. Did I pretend to shock him with evil Dark Side like projections from my fingers? Negative. Did I nervously shake his hand and say "The play... was... amazing... you were great..."? Oh yes. He thanked me and went on his way. Lame, I am.
6. Walking through crowds and the 9th Avenue International Food Festival (formerly believed to be The Hell's Kitchen Flea Market). I was disappointed in the lack of finger puppets (although they did have marionettes). I was a model of discipline and did not purchase a deep fried oreo. I did, however, sample bizarrely flavored kettlecorn. Mother shared a disturbing insight and we frantically talked through it before D and Father caught up with us after visiting Grant's Tomb and other uptown landmarks.
7. Barely making it to the roof. "It's worth it," I kept saying as they gasped walking slowly up the stairs. Father took a zillion photos of the view. I took a zillion photos of him taking photos, of D eating a mozzarippa, of my favorite building and the city looking like a facade.
8. Father napping. We chatted. Brother arrived and said "So you live on Sesame Street?"
9. Sarcastic and wonderfully silly waiter at dinner. Gnocchi melting in my mouth - yes! Brother's old friend with newly fabulous hair. Smiling. Laughing. Open window.
10. Cab to Bench Buddy's Farewell Party taking forever.
11. Bench Buddy's Farewall Party being too cold or too crowded, or for me, too trendy and too hurtful. Confrontation with VB. I almost slapped her. I hate apologizing for things that shouldn't matter to humor people (aka diffuse drama). I hate everyone.
12. Vowing to never hang out with coworkers ever. again.
13. Succombing in my own pet peeve - not saying good-bye - so as to avoid more drama and peer pressure from and by coworkers. Not caring. I walked away really upset, wanting to leave New York foreverandeverandever and whatiswrongwithpeoplehere, but felt better when Brother cared. People not-from-New-York make New York acceptable.
14. Brunch at restaurant with pink menus. Best french toast of all time - and berries! Mother flirting with gay waiter. This is new and adorable.
15. Talk of family trip - cruise? Meditteranean? Picky, nervous, not wanting to see things that aren't familiar such as Turkey. I convinced them that we should rent a villa. It's fun to fantasize, and even more fun to become the parent. Yes, I will look into it.
16. More street fair. Hell's Kitchen Flea Market. Almost a rain storm on us but HAH we made it inside just in time!
17. Strangers with Candy, a nap, brownies for some, good-byes.
18. Relief, decompression, sadness, alone again, missing the family, LBF, NR. Cleaning, laundry, photos, Sicilian villas, no bed and breakfasts in Northampton, Memoirs of a Geisha.
19. Too much guacamole on the burrito. Too much stress about western MA. But finally a hotel! A vacation! A spa nearby and I will buy myself a massage (and haircut?) because dear god I think I need one if only once ever because the memory foam is killing me. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance finished. No talking about it. Pretending to sleep.
20. Memoirs of a Geisha finished and not hated. 2am. Still not tired. Wanting someone to talk to. Wanting someone to notice. Wanting someone to ask. Remembering when we paid attention. Demanding attention and feeling better until the morning.
Summer hours begin this week! Only three more days and then The Berkshires and museums and not much else because apparently nothing happens in western MA until July. But this means more time to do nothing but read books and look at green things and eat and maybe, just maybe, breadsticks from Spaghetti Freddy's.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Hosting
D and I co-hosted our first function last evening to thank those who helped us move.
D put our names on our mailbox and I think my heart skipped a beat. I suppose I hadn't realized that we were living together prior to seeing our names together. He said "I'm sorry I had to put my name first but it sounded dumb the other way." True. Unfortunate, but true.
We got off to a rough start because one of us can't plan ahead so the shopping for vegetables and alcohol was left until last night post-work, giving us exactly one hour to clean the apartment, make cucumber sandwiches, make lasagna (the limiting factor), make a gigantic salad, make brownies, put things out, etc.
D is definitely a more anxious host than me, which I found surprising. I think this is because D is used to having 3 people at most over at a time, whereas my Boston roots trained me to expect no fewer than 40 people. Granted, its been ages since I prepared a meal for over 10 people, but I was the model of composure. I think D's anxiety forced me to chill out.
The lasagna noodles took 10,000 years to boil. We didn't have enough counter space to be working on all of these projects at the same time. D was testy and insecure. He kept asking me "How should I cut the peppers?" "Whatever you think is best." "Do you like the cucumbers peeled?" "I don't care." "Should I put the M&M's in this bowl?" "Whatever you want."
Guests showed up early. D was a bit nervous. We have a list of "Things To Do" on our refrigerator involving the apartment and personal things, such as "Dye Hair Soon." One of the items was "Check for Roof Access," which, for some reason, we hadn't done until last night. We sent The Boss and Bench Buddy on an expedition to see if we had roof access.
When they didn't turn up for quite some time, we concluded that they were either dead or that we do, indeed, have roof access. The remaining guests and I headed up to the roof. I tripped on a step en route, fell over, and managed to spill wine everywhere but not drop the glass. How is that possible? Although, if I had dropped the glass it wouldn't have broken because it was an unbreakable glass from M and A.
And oh! The roof. We are morons for not having investigated sooner. But we have become people who run out of milk and toilet paper because there is too much going on. It was a glorious evening and the sun was setting and we can see The Empire State Building and all of midtown and oh! Exquisite. I held court with a re-telling of the Statue Story involving The Parents for those who hadn't yet heard it. They found it riveting.
We stayed up there too long and forgot to heat up the lasagna. At 9:00 we returned and I drunkenly cooked the lasagna for too long and then didn't let it cool off for long enough, so it became a runny mess but was still oh-so-delicious.
And curse you, NR, for you and your Journey-loving ways! When we sat down for dinner, D put on the Journey video, which is awesome for about ten minutes, but man. Why break up a perfectly nice conversation and force everyone to watch and discuss Journey?
We ate brownies and ice cream (wrong, I know, but it was a special night!) and everyone was gone by 11:00. I did dishes while D mopped everything because he is unable to deal with shoes in the house.
I didn't sleep well because of wine and memory foam, and today I am a wreck, but we had fun and I want to always have people over as long as it doesn't involve lasagna.
D put our names on our mailbox and I think my heart skipped a beat. I suppose I hadn't realized that we were living together prior to seeing our names together. He said "I'm sorry I had to put my name first but it sounded dumb the other way." True. Unfortunate, but true.
We got off to a rough start because one of us can't plan ahead so the shopping for vegetables and alcohol was left until last night post-work, giving us exactly one hour to clean the apartment, make cucumber sandwiches, make lasagna (the limiting factor), make a gigantic salad, make brownies, put things out, etc.
D is definitely a more anxious host than me, which I found surprising. I think this is because D is used to having 3 people at most over at a time, whereas my Boston roots trained me to expect no fewer than 40 people. Granted, its been ages since I prepared a meal for over 10 people, but I was the model of composure. I think D's anxiety forced me to chill out.
The lasagna noodles took 10,000 years to boil. We didn't have enough counter space to be working on all of these projects at the same time. D was testy and insecure. He kept asking me "How should I cut the peppers?" "Whatever you think is best." "Do you like the cucumbers peeled?" "I don't care." "Should I put the M&M's in this bowl?" "Whatever you want."
Guests showed up early. D was a bit nervous. We have a list of "Things To Do" on our refrigerator involving the apartment and personal things, such as "Dye Hair Soon." One of the items was "Check for Roof Access," which, for some reason, we hadn't done until last night. We sent The Boss and Bench Buddy on an expedition to see if we had roof access.
When they didn't turn up for quite some time, we concluded that they were either dead or that we do, indeed, have roof access. The remaining guests and I headed up to the roof. I tripped on a step en route, fell over, and managed to spill wine everywhere but not drop the glass. How is that possible? Although, if I had dropped the glass it wouldn't have broken because it was an unbreakable glass from M and A.
And oh! The roof. We are morons for not having investigated sooner. But we have become people who run out of milk and toilet paper because there is too much going on. It was a glorious evening and the sun was setting and we can see The Empire State Building and all of midtown and oh! Exquisite. I held court with a re-telling of the Statue Story involving The Parents for those who hadn't yet heard it. They found it riveting.
We stayed up there too long and forgot to heat up the lasagna. At 9:00 we returned and I drunkenly cooked the lasagna for too long and then didn't let it cool off for long enough, so it became a runny mess but was still oh-so-delicious.
And curse you, NR, for you and your Journey-loving ways! When we sat down for dinner, D put on the Journey video, which is awesome for about ten minutes, but man. Why break up a perfectly nice conversation and force everyone to watch and discuss Journey?
We ate brownies and ice cream (wrong, I know, but it was a special night!) and everyone was gone by 11:00. I did dishes while D mopped everything because he is unable to deal with shoes in the house.
I didn't sleep well because of wine and memory foam, and today I am a wreck, but we had fun and I want to always have people over as long as it doesn't involve lasagna.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Phobia
Apparently the best cure for your fear of public speaking is sleep deprivation. I was too tired this morning to be anxious and anything but utterly poised. Sweet!
I feel a song coming on...
I feel a song coming on...
Readers Of My Mundane Life In Song RULE!
(said in the style of "Wyld Stallyns RULE!")
Thank you all so much for the cyber hugs and support.
I felt way less lonely when I read your words this morning.
I wish you all lived in Hell's Kitchen.
Thank you all so much for the cyber hugs and support.
I felt way less lonely when I read your words this morning.
I wish you all lived in Hell's Kitchen.
Lonely
M said that the best thing would be to have someone at home every night who would be there when you want to cry for no reason.
She didn't mention that he would just fall asleep before asking you how you were and therefore not afford you the opportunity to cry. She didn't mention that then in order to not wake him up you'd spend evenings crying on the couch and trying desperately to fall asleep there. She didn't mention that you wouldn't be able to sleep. She didn't mention that you'd feel claustrophobic and tense and sad and hopeless. She didn't mention that you'd constantly wonder if the self-confessed appeaser is always just appeasing you. She didn't mention how sad it would make you to hear him planning your life for you without asking and being excited about and planning for the race that's taking place in over a month when he can't discuss the trip for which you still do not have tickets (or a destination) that's allegedly occurring next week. She didn't mention that you would want to cry when he tells you that the race is the same week as the fictional Europe trip that won;'t happen because he's appeasing you and not really wanting to do any of these things - If he did he'd plan them with the zeal with which he planned the race logistics. She didn't mention that you'd feel lonelier than you've ever felt, because you can't just make sad phone calls at 1 am anymore to be cheered up. She didn't mention that he'd forget the presentation. She didn't mention that he wouldn't care. She didn't mention that you'd both disappear. She didn't recommend buying a more comfortable couch. She didn't mention how ridiculous it is to be crying by yourself in the livihg room on the eve of your big seminar when you REALLY need to get more than 4 hours' sleep while he's in there blissfully sleeping.
I'm lame because I can't sleep when there are emotions.
I'm lame because I can't quite sleep when I'm lonely.
And even lamer because I can't sleep at all when I feel lonely when I really shouldn't feel lonely.
It makes me want to run away and never look back. The original impetus for moving (alone) was to sleep better. I had no idea loneliness would be louder than the gas station.
She didn't mention that he would just fall asleep before asking you how you were and therefore not afford you the opportunity to cry. She didn't mention that then in order to not wake him up you'd spend evenings crying on the couch and trying desperately to fall asleep there. She didn't mention that you wouldn't be able to sleep. She didn't mention that you'd feel claustrophobic and tense and sad and hopeless. She didn't mention that you'd constantly wonder if the self-confessed appeaser is always just appeasing you. She didn't mention how sad it would make you to hear him planning your life for you without asking and being excited about and planning for the race that's taking place in over a month when he can't discuss the trip for which you still do not have tickets (or a destination) that's allegedly occurring next week. She didn't mention that you would want to cry when he tells you that the race is the same week as the fictional Europe trip that won;'t happen because he's appeasing you and not really wanting to do any of these things - If he did he'd plan them with the zeal with which he planned the race logistics. She didn't mention that you'd feel lonelier than you've ever felt, because you can't just make sad phone calls at 1 am anymore to be cheered up. She didn't mention that he'd forget the presentation. She didn't mention that he wouldn't care. She didn't mention that you'd both disappear. She didn't recommend buying a more comfortable couch. She didn't mention how ridiculous it is to be crying by yourself in the livihg room on the eve of your big seminar when you REALLY need to get more than 4 hours' sleep while he's in there blissfully sleeping.
I'm lame because I can't sleep when there are emotions.
I'm lame because I can't quite sleep when I'm lonely.
And even lamer because I can't sleep at all when I feel lonely when I really shouldn't feel lonely.
It makes me want to run away and never look back. The original impetus for moving (alone) was to sleep better. I had no idea loneliness would be louder than the gas station.
Monday, May 15, 2006
The Apartment Has Been Rented!
I guess that's all.
In short:
The guy about whom I declared "This is the guy who is going to rent the apartment!" after talking to him for two minutes rented the apartment.
He is thrilled, ecstatic, bouncing-off-the-walls enamored with my apartment.
When I gave him the keys, he gave me a bottle of wine in exchange. I love when people extend unnecessary kindnesses.
He offered us blinds.
He did a little dance when I gave him the keys and sang "I can't believe I'm a New Yorker!"
He wants to invite me over after he's settled in.
They are charging me rent for all of May even though he now lives there.
They are not, however, charging me the lease-breaking fee because "You have been so sweet and you're such a nice kid and you've been so helpful through all of this so we'll just keep the deposit. I think that's fair. And you have a boyfriend and you're living with him and you're happy and we're happy for you. I think this is fair."
"So do I."
Do I? No, but am I just glad that I don't have to deal with this anymore? Yes. I'd rather pay an extra $300 than have this draw on, have to go there, fill out paperwork, etc. It's worth it to me to just be done with it.
Now all I need are some curtains and I will be officially settled.
WOOOO!!!!!!
In short:
The guy about whom I declared "This is the guy who is going to rent the apartment!" after talking to him for two minutes rented the apartment.
He is thrilled, ecstatic, bouncing-off-the-walls enamored with my apartment.
When I gave him the keys, he gave me a bottle of wine in exchange. I love when people extend unnecessary kindnesses.
He offered us blinds.
He did a little dance when I gave him the keys and sang "I can't believe I'm a New Yorker!"
He wants to invite me over after he's settled in.
They are charging me rent for all of May even though he now lives there.
They are not, however, charging me the lease-breaking fee because "You have been so sweet and you're such a nice kid and you've been so helpful through all of this so we'll just keep the deposit. I think that's fair. And you have a boyfriend and you're living with him and you're happy and we're happy for you. I think this is fair."
"So do I."
Do I? No, but am I just glad that I don't have to deal with this anymore? Yes. I'd rather pay an extra $300 than have this draw on, have to go there, fill out paperwork, etc. It's worth it to me to just be done with it.
Now all I need are some curtains and I will be officially settled.
WOOOO!!!!!!
Finger Puppets!!!
I ate breakfast today.
I then walked 87 miles to the train in the rain. It really seems like 87 miles when it's pouring.
The weekend was good. Real good.
It started off with macaroni and cheese and one deadly glass of wine with J. We tried to get a psychic reading but were turned away! Do psychics really make enough money to turn people away? I think not! I bought sugar-free goodies and flowers and went home and read and watched The Dying Gaul and slept lots.
I woke up early on Saturday to meet up with LBF, but my plans were thwarted when I discovered that my key to my building no longer worked. I buzzed my neighbors furiously. 2C let me in.
I knocked on their door and said "Hi - ummm - I'm your new neighbor. Have you guys been having trouble getting into the building lately?" 2C explained that this happens at times, and that you just have to jiggle the key in the lock.
I said "But I can't even get my key into the lock at all!"
2C offered to come downstairs with me to demonstrate his jiggling technique. Nice! We discovered that there was indeed something wrong with my key in particular- it was too thick? Curse you, Home Depot! 2C went above and beyond the neighborly call of duty and gave me his key from which to have a new copy made. I ran to a hardware store, made a copy of his key, had my pre-existing key adjusted, ran back to my apartment, let myself into the building (sweet!) after an older couple explained that they'd been locked out for 10 minutes but had moments before jiggled themselves in, ran up to 2C, thanked him profusely, and ran to meet LBF at Rockefeller Center.
There we partook in Art Rock. It was cool. Here are some photos:
We then headed down to Chelsea to check out the John Waters exhibit. Our plans were thwarted when we encountered a street fair! Oh how I love me a street fair.
LBF bought 12 magnets for $5.
For me she purchased a magnet shaped like the perfect food - avocado. Yummmmm.
There were, of course, finger puppets.
And most importantly, a Yoda finger puppet!
And candied apples.
And candied strawberries.
And outfits for your cell phone.
And corn.
Oh how I love a street fair!
We ate burritos and then went to the gallery. I bought a much-needed deep frame at a neighborhood stoop sale on 23rd for $7! Jackpot! We headed downtown to see a disturbing cartoon festival (but awesome - probably one of the best cartoon festivals I've seen - it was consistently good) at The Film Forum. We meandered. We lingered in Washington Square Park. We wandered up to Union Square and ate Indian food. We saw a show at Upright Citizen's Brigade (hilarious - with a skit about puppets!).
It is lovely when people visit because rather than tend to chores and other city nonsense errands blah blah blah, I get to enjoy the city and remember why I live here. I live here because you can walk around aimlessly and be pleasantly suprised by a vat of finger puppets.
After letting myself into the building without a problem because someone has duct taped the lock so the door no longer locks at all, I framed my project in the deep frame after much duress and after slicing my finger open with one of those little brackets in the back of the frame that folds over to keep the art inside. It was gory. Blood dripping everywhere. I watched a bit of Battle In Heaven and decided that I wasn't in the mood to be disturbed. I read and slept lots again.
I have decided that productivity gives me confidence. Yesterday was one of the more productive days I have ever had. I woke up early. I did laundry. I read The Village Voice. I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom in anticipation of our party on Wednesday and of my parents' visit this coming weekend. I ate breakfast and lunch. I talked to Father. I watched some more of Battle in Heaven and decided that I still couldn't handle it. I talked to Mother en route to B & H. I bought the long-overdue polarizing filter and lens cleaner. B & H is magic even on the weekends. I went to Duane Reade. I discovered a small shop that sells vintage/retro glassware and plates. Delicious. I bought only two with polka dots hoping for D's approval and the go-ahead to buy many, many more. I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought new space-efficient photo albums and a curtain. I went home and transferred every single photo from the old photo albums into the new ones. I uploaded photos from the weekend. I ordered prints of photos from the past two months. I cleaned the lens (finally! no more of R's fingerprints in my photos!). I finally watched the rest of Battle in Heaven and will spend the rest of my life trying to forget that I ever saw it. It's an amazing and elegant movie but I can't recommend it to you because I don't recommend that any of you torture yourselves. I played piano for hours. I sang showtunes at the top of my lungs. I made the bed because D was coming home and I know how much he likes a neat bed. I fixed my hair in anticipation of his arrival. I contemplated putting on makeup but decided that makeup in the house is excessive when greeting your boyfriend who should in theory be excited to see you after a week no matter what you look like. I listened to the new Stills album two more times and decided that I don't hate it and actually really like it and can't wait for the show. I made dinner when D arrived. I tried not to miss the quiet. I tossed and turned and missed sleeping in the middle, but enjoyed hearing his breathing.
It was a good weekend. I got lots done, but also had fun. Actually, it was a perfect weekend.
I then walked 87 miles to the train in the rain. It really seems like 87 miles when it's pouring.
The weekend was good. Real good.
It started off with macaroni and cheese and one deadly glass of wine with J. We tried to get a psychic reading but were turned away! Do psychics really make enough money to turn people away? I think not! I bought sugar-free goodies and flowers and went home and read and watched The Dying Gaul and slept lots.
I woke up early on Saturday to meet up with LBF, but my plans were thwarted when I discovered that my key to my building no longer worked. I buzzed my neighbors furiously. 2C let me in.
I knocked on their door and said "Hi - ummm - I'm your new neighbor. Have you guys been having trouble getting into the building lately?" 2C explained that this happens at times, and that you just have to jiggle the key in the lock.
I said "But I can't even get my key into the lock at all!"
2C offered to come downstairs with me to demonstrate his jiggling technique. Nice! We discovered that there was indeed something wrong with my key in particular- it was too thick? Curse you, Home Depot! 2C went above and beyond the neighborly call of duty and gave me his key from which to have a new copy made. I ran to a hardware store, made a copy of his key, had my pre-existing key adjusted, ran back to my apartment, let myself into the building (sweet!) after an older couple explained that they'd been locked out for 10 minutes but had moments before jiggled themselves in, ran up to 2C, thanked him profusely, and ran to meet LBF at Rockefeller Center.
There we partook in Art Rock. It was cool. Here are some photos:
We then headed down to Chelsea to check out the John Waters exhibit. Our plans were thwarted when we encountered a street fair! Oh how I love me a street fair.
LBF bought 12 magnets for $5.
For me she purchased a magnet shaped like the perfect food - avocado. Yummmmm.
There were, of course, finger puppets.
And most importantly, a Yoda finger puppet!
And candied apples.
And candied strawberries.
And outfits for your cell phone.
And corn.
Oh how I love a street fair!
We ate burritos and then went to the gallery. I bought a much-needed deep frame at a neighborhood stoop sale on 23rd for $7! Jackpot! We headed downtown to see a disturbing cartoon festival (but awesome - probably one of the best cartoon festivals I've seen - it was consistently good) at The Film Forum. We meandered. We lingered in Washington Square Park. We wandered up to Union Square and ate Indian food. We saw a show at Upright Citizen's Brigade (hilarious - with a skit about puppets!).
It is lovely when people visit because rather than tend to chores and other city nonsense errands blah blah blah, I get to enjoy the city and remember why I live here. I live here because you can walk around aimlessly and be pleasantly suprised by a vat of finger puppets.
After letting myself into the building without a problem because someone has duct taped the lock so the door no longer locks at all, I framed my project in the deep frame after much duress and after slicing my finger open with one of those little brackets in the back of the frame that folds over to keep the art inside. It was gory. Blood dripping everywhere. I watched a bit of Battle In Heaven and decided that I wasn't in the mood to be disturbed. I read and slept lots again.
I have decided that productivity gives me confidence. Yesterday was one of the more productive days I have ever had. I woke up early. I did laundry. I read The Village Voice. I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom in anticipation of our party on Wednesday and of my parents' visit this coming weekend. I ate breakfast and lunch. I talked to Father. I watched some more of Battle in Heaven and decided that I still couldn't handle it. I talked to Mother en route to B & H. I bought the long-overdue polarizing filter and lens cleaner. B & H is magic even on the weekends. I went to Duane Reade. I discovered a small shop that sells vintage/retro glassware and plates. Delicious. I bought only two with polka dots hoping for D's approval and the go-ahead to buy many, many more. I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought new space-efficient photo albums and a curtain. I went home and transferred every single photo from the old photo albums into the new ones. I uploaded photos from the weekend. I ordered prints of photos from the past two months. I cleaned the lens (finally! no more of R's fingerprints in my photos!). I finally watched the rest of Battle in Heaven and will spend the rest of my life trying to forget that I ever saw it. It's an amazing and elegant movie but I can't recommend it to you because I don't recommend that any of you torture yourselves. I played piano for hours. I sang showtunes at the top of my lungs. I made the bed because D was coming home and I know how much he likes a neat bed. I fixed my hair in anticipation of his arrival. I contemplated putting on makeup but decided that makeup in the house is excessive when greeting your boyfriend who should in theory be excited to see you after a week no matter what you look like. I listened to the new Stills album two more times and decided that I don't hate it and actually really like it and can't wait for the show. I made dinner when D arrived. I tried not to miss the quiet. I tossed and turned and missed sleeping in the middle, but enjoyed hearing his breathing.
It was a good weekend. I got lots done, but also had fun. Actually, it was a perfect weekend.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Pet
I had a dream last night in which I bought a pet cockroach.
I went to pick him up at the store. In dream-land, when you buy a pet cockroach, he is given to you in a box with a little window.
I left the store and looked through the little window to gaze upon him with pride, and completely freaked out when he turned out to be a grasshopper!
Seriously. I screamed, threw the box into the air, dropped the box, causing the grasshopper to jump away and disappear. My heart rate skyrocketed and I kept screaming and screaming and screaming "I DIDN'T WANT A GRASSHOPPER! HE'S DISGUSTING!"
Right.
It all seemed so reasonable in the dream.
I went to pick him up at the store. In dream-land, when you buy a pet cockroach, he is given to you in a box with a little window.
I left the store and looked through the little window to gaze upon him with pride, and completely freaked out when he turned out to be a grasshopper!
Seriously. I screamed, threw the box into the air, dropped the box, causing the grasshopper to jump away and disappear. My heart rate skyrocketed and I kept screaming and screaming and screaming "I DIDN'T WANT A GRASSHOPPER! HE'S DISGUSTING!"
Right.
It all seemed so reasonable in the dream.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Disable Cookies
It's been a while since I've written.
Not writing is a result of being busy at work, feeling boring, feeling like nobody is reading (but does that really matter? the blog is for me), feeling sick, etc.
This is what has been consuming my time as of late:
Hanging stuff on walls.
Coming to terms with the possibility of no more cookies.
Trying to decide what to do with all of the cookies that will never be eaten by me.
Trying to decide what exercise videos to purchase.
Getting rubber cement all over my hands.
Looking through archives of photographs to not hang on the walls.
Experiencing anxiety about the stupid apartment when I actually remember the stupid apartment (how lovely it is to no longer be obsessed) that is allegedly rented, about which they said "We'll let you know" but of course they have not let me know. Ugh. This is tiresome.
Making slides and being uncharacteristically assertive so as to avoid being micromanaged like some lame seminar-giving puppet.
Not having much of a life due to double rent being paid for two months (not to mention due to the paying of ridiculous realtor fee).
Saving money. Yes!
Reading D's magazines.
Sleeping in the middle of the bed.
Yearning for vacation.
Searching for frames and alarm clocks and vacations.
Not blogging regularly.
I'll be back to normal soon, I promise. I think once the apartment is rented and I have a grasp on what my life should be like, I'll feel settled and normal and can go back to living and looking forward instead of being stuck.
OK.
Boring boring boring. See!?
Not writing is a result of being busy at work, feeling boring, feeling like nobody is reading (but does that really matter? the blog is for me), feeling sick, etc.
This is what has been consuming my time as of late:
Hanging stuff on walls.
Coming to terms with the possibility of no more cookies.
Trying to decide what to do with all of the cookies that will never be eaten by me.
Trying to decide what exercise videos to purchase.
Getting rubber cement all over my hands.
Looking through archives of photographs to not hang on the walls.
Experiencing anxiety about the stupid apartment when I actually remember the stupid apartment (how lovely it is to no longer be obsessed) that is allegedly rented, about which they said "We'll let you know" but of course they have not let me know. Ugh. This is tiresome.
Making slides and being uncharacteristically assertive so as to avoid being micromanaged like some lame seminar-giving puppet.
Not having much of a life due to double rent being paid for two months (not to mention due to the paying of ridiculous realtor fee).
Saving money. Yes!
Reading D's magazines.
Sleeping in the middle of the bed.
Yearning for vacation.
Searching for frames and alarm clocks and vacations.
Not blogging regularly.
I'll be back to normal soon, I promise. I think once the apartment is rented and I have a grasp on what my life should be like, I'll feel settled and normal and can go back to living and looking forward instead of being stuck.
OK.
Boring boring boring. See!?
Monday, May 08, 2006
Not In The Mood Today
I am not in the mood to work. There is much to be done, but do I want to do it? No. The work is comprised of many small tasks, the sort of small tasks that can pile up and vex you at day's end. I'm trying, I swear.
I'm a bit burnt from the weekend. Not sure why - I got plenty of sleep and plenty of time to indulge in mundane projects around the home. I've been feeling fuzzy-headed and faint as of late, which can be confused with being tired. And the headaches - oh my. I guess lots o' drugs can make you feel cloudy.
Nevertheless, the weekend was full.
A summary:
Lamest party ever to celebrate Cinco de Mayo on Friday night. I resent wealth that is not earned. I loathe former prep-school douchebags who drop hedgefund terminology to seem relevant. I hate giant flat screen TVs in kitchens. I hate feeling awkward around mariachi bands. I hate models. I hate dogs in pocketbooks. I hate entitlement.
Got home early in order to sleep. Didn't catch up on Netflix because School of Rock was on and I'd never seen it. Did projects.
Had breakfast with a coworker and her sons before they took our shelves away from us - thank you thank you THANK YOU. Her 13-year-old was eager to impress. I told him that I liked his shaggy hair and he was sold. He dropped comics knowledge and smiled so hard it made me want to cry when he found out that I too like The Beastie Boys. I forced Watchmen upon him and know that it will blow his mind. He wants to see X-Men 3 with us.
Met up with PW and The New Boy for a Tribeca Film Fest film that was sold out. No David Duchovny in a comedy for us! Plan B involved the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market, sweet and salty at Amy's Bread, brief detour at the new abode and then gawking at David Blaine in the bubble (photos forthcoming). For some reason I love a spectacle, and moreso a spectacle that manages somehow miraculously to soothe.
Walked too much and walked then to the Amish Market which is not an Amish Market at all. There are indeed Amish goodies there but also a plethora of fancy foods, a mere three blocks from the new abode! I meant only to buy vegetables but left with other things I needn't ever eat.
Did more projects prior to attending D's friend's birthday party in Guam... er... Brooklyn. Sat on the roof and shivered. Devoured delicious vegetarian sandwiches and salads. Nursed a deadly daquiri and was eventually defeated by a fly's being stuck within. "Waiter, there's a fly stuck in my daquiri." Stared at a cute kit. "This cat is thin!" I said. What a stupid thing to say.
Home early yet again to sleep in preparation for D's race.
Talked to LBF and can't wait to see her. I canNOT wait. I cannot!
D won the biathlon! HE WON!!! My boy has no confidence regarding things about which he should have confidence. He has blind faith in the intentions of others, but none in his own abilities. So endearing. I smothered him with proud kisses as soon as I could. He said he thought of me for the entire race, saying he wanted to make his girl proud. I said I was proud no matter what. I'm proud that he rides a bike at all, dear god. I'm proud of his dedication to and enthusiasm for things. I'm proud of him for wearing his cute superhero bike outfit. I'm proud of him for getting up at 6 am. I'm proud to know him, proud to be with him, proud to be the person who makes him happy.
We went for lunch to celebrate. His suggestion that he start competing nationally and assertion that I will come to support him! promptly resulted in my having a meltdown about finances. "We can't live like this," I said. "We need a budget." "We need to prioritize." "We have spent an absurd amount of money this past month and we cannot get it back." He said "We will save it." I said "We will not, because we live in New York City. You can't save money here." We decided on no more eating out and no more popcorn at movies and fewer movies anyway and will make a list of possible vacation destinations because I really need a vacation. And a keyboard. And a filter for my lens. And lens cleaner. And more photo albums. And an alarm clock. And new sheets. And a coffee table. And a flash. And an external hard drive.
We stopped by to see David Blaine again.
We walked too much and didn't get curtains or sheets.
D napped while I did a long-overdue categorization of thousands of photos.
We interrupted eating and more eating with projects around the house. We hooked up the stereo in its final home. We stared at the walls and didn't hang anything up. We forgot to eat the corn. We watched Mrs. Henderson Presents and I gushed over Dame Judy. We are in desperate need of a vacation.
D is going on vacation this week. Work for him is not as much of an issue, nor is money, so he's off to sleep and swim and read and watch movies and mow lawns.
This means, for yours truly, that I will not be forced to do projects round-the-house for five whole days! Luxury. I am going to sleep and read and watch movies and sleep in the middle of the bed. This will be a good week.
I'm a bit burnt from the weekend. Not sure why - I got plenty of sleep and plenty of time to indulge in mundane projects around the home. I've been feeling fuzzy-headed and faint as of late, which can be confused with being tired. And the headaches - oh my. I guess lots o' drugs can make you feel cloudy.
Nevertheless, the weekend was full.
A summary:
Lamest party ever to celebrate Cinco de Mayo on Friday night. I resent wealth that is not earned. I loathe former prep-school douchebags who drop hedgefund terminology to seem relevant. I hate giant flat screen TVs in kitchens. I hate feeling awkward around mariachi bands. I hate models. I hate dogs in pocketbooks. I hate entitlement.
Got home early in order to sleep. Didn't catch up on Netflix because School of Rock was on and I'd never seen it. Did projects.
Had breakfast with a coworker and her sons before they took our shelves away from us - thank you thank you THANK YOU. Her 13-year-old was eager to impress. I told him that I liked his shaggy hair and he was sold. He dropped comics knowledge and smiled so hard it made me want to cry when he found out that I too like The Beastie Boys. I forced Watchmen upon him and know that it will blow his mind. He wants to see X-Men 3 with us.
Met up with PW and The New Boy for a Tribeca Film Fest film that was sold out. No David Duchovny in a comedy for us! Plan B involved the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market, sweet and salty at Amy's Bread, brief detour at the new abode and then gawking at David Blaine in the bubble (photos forthcoming). For some reason I love a spectacle, and moreso a spectacle that manages somehow miraculously to soothe.
Walked too much and walked then to the Amish Market which is not an Amish Market at all. There are indeed Amish goodies there but also a plethora of fancy foods, a mere three blocks from the new abode! I meant only to buy vegetables but left with other things I needn't ever eat.
Did more projects prior to attending D's friend's birthday party in Guam... er... Brooklyn. Sat on the roof and shivered. Devoured delicious vegetarian sandwiches and salads. Nursed a deadly daquiri and was eventually defeated by a fly's being stuck within. "Waiter, there's a fly stuck in my daquiri." Stared at a cute kit. "This cat is thin!" I said. What a stupid thing to say.
Home early yet again to sleep in preparation for D's race.
Talked to LBF and can't wait to see her. I canNOT wait. I cannot!
D won the biathlon! HE WON!!! My boy has no confidence regarding things about which he should have confidence. He has blind faith in the intentions of others, but none in his own abilities. So endearing. I smothered him with proud kisses as soon as I could. He said he thought of me for the entire race, saying he wanted to make his girl proud. I said I was proud no matter what. I'm proud that he rides a bike at all, dear god. I'm proud of his dedication to and enthusiasm for things. I'm proud of him for wearing his cute superhero bike outfit. I'm proud of him for getting up at 6 am. I'm proud to know him, proud to be with him, proud to be the person who makes him happy.
We went for lunch to celebrate. His suggestion that he start competing nationally and assertion that I will come to support him! promptly resulted in my having a meltdown about finances. "We can't live like this," I said. "We need a budget." "We need to prioritize." "We have spent an absurd amount of money this past month and we cannot get it back." He said "We will save it." I said "We will not, because we live in New York City. You can't save money here." We decided on no more eating out and no more popcorn at movies and fewer movies anyway and will make a list of possible vacation destinations because I really need a vacation. And a keyboard. And a filter for my lens. And lens cleaner. And more photo albums. And an alarm clock. And new sheets. And a coffee table. And a flash. And an external hard drive.
We stopped by to see David Blaine again.
We walked too much and didn't get curtains or sheets.
D napped while I did a long-overdue categorization of thousands of photos.
We interrupted eating and more eating with projects around the house. We hooked up the stereo in its final home. We stared at the walls and didn't hang anything up. We forgot to eat the corn. We watched Mrs. Henderson Presents and I gushed over Dame Judy. We are in desperate need of a vacation.
D is going on vacation this week. Work for him is not as much of an issue, nor is money, so he's off to sleep and swim and read and watch movies and mow lawns.
This means, for yours truly, that I will not be forced to do projects round-the-house for five whole days! Luxury. I am going to sleep and read and watch movies and sleep in the middle of the bed. This will be a good week.
Friday, May 05, 2006
It Was Impossible For Me To... (aka Not So-lame)
... rent my apartment (although still up in the air will this ever end!? and why do I have to pay all of May even though someone will be living there?), get my eyeglasses refund, get my tax refund, and get Radiohead tickets in the same week.
I swear the tickets sold out in approximately one second.
I'd hatched an elaborate scheme in which D and I would both attempt to get tickets by computer, work phone, and cell phone (in my case) at exactly 10:00 am. "Make sure you are at your desk at 10! Call if you get the tickets."
D kept saying "I really don't think it's going to sell out..."
"Look, it is going to sell out. It will sell out in five minutes."
"No, it won't. I don't think anyone knows about this."
"Everyone knows about this! It's all over every blog out there!"
I finally conceded and said that the 5-prong approach to getting tickets was of use because we would be assured actual seats and not have to stand. D was sold.
But it didn't matter, because there were no tickets remaining at 10:01.
I am sad, but things are otherwise acceptable. The weather is nice, it is the weekend, experiments are working, I am going to go to bed early tonight...
And D and I went to The Cirque last night in a rare example of my weilding my girlfriendly powers of coercion.
Half way through the first act, D leaned over and whispered "This is fucking rad!" and I thought "Oh how I love this boy."
We took the ferry to and from the Cirque, and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the skyline.
I do appreciate the wonders of digital photography and the fact that everyone can develop their photographic skills, but dear god must people ruin everything with their cameras? The dark ferry ride back to 34th Street was tained by every third person with his or her digital camera popping flashes every two seconds. I wanted to kill everyone.
I am looking forward to the weekend, although not to tonight when I succomb to the boyfriendly powers of coercion and attend a Cinco de Mayo party (and yes, I have had the Liz Phair song in my head all day and it will not go away!) that I have no desire to go to. I had no desire to go even before I learned that VB will be in attendance. Tomorrow will be unpacking and breakfast and a free movie and another party I'm not terribly excited about but I have duties to perform. Hopefully there will be time for the flea market and a moment to gawk at David Blaine in the bubble. Sunday will be sleeping in (!) and then nothing in particular other than possibly performing more girlfriendly duties that involve an hour plus train ride to NJ to meet a friend who is an email-once-a-month friend to whom he is not close but "I want you to meet her!" so I guess I have to. Maybe a movie. Maybe laundry. Maybe a doughnut. Maybe groceries. Ah, groceries, it's been too long.
Until Monday...
I swear the tickets sold out in approximately one second.
I'd hatched an elaborate scheme in which D and I would both attempt to get tickets by computer, work phone, and cell phone (in my case) at exactly 10:00 am. "Make sure you are at your desk at 10! Call if you get the tickets."
D kept saying "I really don't think it's going to sell out..."
"Look, it is going to sell out. It will sell out in five minutes."
"No, it won't. I don't think anyone knows about this."
"Everyone knows about this! It's all over every blog out there!"
I finally conceded and said that the 5-prong approach to getting tickets was of use because we would be assured actual seats and not have to stand. D was sold.
But it didn't matter, because there were no tickets remaining at 10:01.
I am sad, but things are otherwise acceptable. The weather is nice, it is the weekend, experiments are working, I am going to go to bed early tonight...
And D and I went to The Cirque last night in a rare example of my weilding my girlfriendly powers of coercion.
Half way through the first act, D leaned over and whispered "This is fucking rad!" and I thought "Oh how I love this boy."
We took the ferry to and from the Cirque, and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the skyline.
I do appreciate the wonders of digital photography and the fact that everyone can develop their photographic skills, but dear god must people ruin everything with their cameras? The dark ferry ride back to 34th Street was tained by every third person with his or her digital camera popping flashes every two seconds. I wanted to kill everyone.
I am looking forward to the weekend, although not to tonight when I succomb to the boyfriendly powers of coercion and attend a Cinco de Mayo party (and yes, I have had the Liz Phair song in my head all day and it will not go away!) that I have no desire to go to. I had no desire to go even before I learned that VB will be in attendance. Tomorrow will be unpacking and breakfast and a free movie and another party I'm not terribly excited about but I have duties to perform. Hopefully there will be time for the flea market and a moment to gawk at David Blaine in the bubble. Sunday will be sleeping in (!) and then nothing in particular other than possibly performing more girlfriendly duties that involve an hour plus train ride to NJ to meet a friend who is an email-once-a-month friend to whom he is not close but "I want you to meet her!" so I guess I have to. Maybe a movie. Maybe laundry. Maybe a doughnut. Maybe groceries. Ah, groceries, it's been too long.
Until Monday...
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Impossible
I had a change of heart last week and decided that I wasn't jealous that D gets to go to the Mission Impossible 3 premier because I was, in all honesty, thrilled by the idea of being in my apartment alone! All by myself! With spare hours to clean the bathroom and find receipts and go through photos and organize books and watch my very own DVDs by myself! Yeah!!!
I have very much been looking forward to a night alone, a night on which I will be able to go to bed at 10 pm after sitting in bed eating cookies and watching Breakfast On Pluto, which has been sitting, unopened, in its red Netflix envelope for a week.
Oh yes, the idea of going to be early has sustained me today, as I go through the day in delirium interrupted only by the occasional energy brought upon by trying to conjure up a phone call from The Management or The Potential Tenant.
D sent me an email this afternoon indicating that he may not be going to the premier, because it starts later than he thought - in that, he is supposed to meet his friend at 6:00 but the movie doesn't start until 9:30 and this is not something he is terribly interested in.
I tried to convince him that this was interesting! A great opportunity! Tom Cruise! With bangs! What fun! And the movie will be free! Yes! YAY! Rah!
I then convinced myself that it wouldn't be the end of the world if he didn't go, because we could, together, get the apartment a bit in order after last night's book/CD explosion and then we could watch separate movies and be alone but together.
He appeared a few moments ago and said "Well, we're going to head up there and see what's going on and if its at 9:30 we're going to bail and hang out... we'll probably just come back to the apartment and just chill out and listen to music or something."
OH NO YOU WILL NOT!
I didn't say that, of course, because the first time these sorts of things happen you don't really know what to say because you hadn't realized that these sorts of things could become issues.
I said "Oh... ok... well... you know... I am going to be early. Like really. early. And if you're going to hang out at the apartment... can you just call me so I'm not, like, in my pajamas or something? Yeah... can you just call me?" instead of saying "Could you guys maybe go out for a drink? I'd really like to be alone. And unconscious as soon as possible."
Ugh. Hopefully he'll call either way at which time I can say "Hey - why don't you two go grab a drink somewhere not in the apartment?"
Yeah. I'll totally say that. Right. Wish me luck.
I have very much been looking forward to a night alone, a night on which I will be able to go to bed at 10 pm after sitting in bed eating cookies and watching Breakfast On Pluto, which has been sitting, unopened, in its red Netflix envelope for a week.
Oh yes, the idea of going to be early has sustained me today, as I go through the day in delirium interrupted only by the occasional energy brought upon by trying to conjure up a phone call from The Management or The Potential Tenant.
D sent me an email this afternoon indicating that he may not be going to the premier, because it starts later than he thought - in that, he is supposed to meet his friend at 6:00 but the movie doesn't start until 9:30 and this is not something he is terribly interested in.
I tried to convince him that this was interesting! A great opportunity! Tom Cruise! With bangs! What fun! And the movie will be free! Yes! YAY! Rah!
I then convinced myself that it wouldn't be the end of the world if he didn't go, because we could, together, get the apartment a bit in order after last night's book/CD explosion and then we could watch separate movies and be alone but together.
He appeared a few moments ago and said "Well, we're going to head up there and see what's going on and if its at 9:30 we're going to bail and hang out... we'll probably just come back to the apartment and just chill out and listen to music or something."
OH NO YOU WILL NOT!
I didn't say that, of course, because the first time these sorts of things happen you don't really know what to say because you hadn't realized that these sorts of things could become issues.
I said "Oh... ok... well... you know... I am going to be early. Like really. early. And if you're going to hang out at the apartment... can you just call me so I'm not, like, in my pajamas or something? Yeah... can you just call me?" instead of saying "Could you guys maybe go out for a drink? I'd really like to be alone. And unconscious as soon as possible."
Ugh. Hopefully he'll call either way at which time I can say "Hey - why don't you two go grab a drink somewhere not in the apartment?"
Yeah. I'll totally say that. Right. Wish me luck.
Suspense
OH MY GOD why can't anyone just PLEASE call me to tell me what is going on with the apartment!??! WHY WHY WHY!?!?
D said that nobody is calling because they are all busy signing leases and having copies of keys made, etc.
I hope this is the case.
The management gushed today when I called to see if they talked to Potential Tenant. They adored him. They were anxiously awaiting the arrival of his credit report and would call me as soon as they knew anything.
The Potential Tenant said that he was on "pins and needles" waiting for any news... he asked that I think positively and told me he'd get back to me as soon as he knew anything.
I have no reason to think positively about this. Nothing positive has happened yet. Tenants have been denied, people have lied, doors have been broken by realtors, people don't call me back, there is really no reason to think positively.
Why oh why will they not just call me?
I can't take it.
I warned D that there may be tears if this doesn't work out.
I am so very tired.
D said that nobody is calling because they are all busy signing leases and having copies of keys made, etc.
I hope this is the case.
The management gushed today when I called to see if they talked to Potential Tenant. They adored him. They were anxiously awaiting the arrival of his credit report and would call me as soon as they knew anything.
The Potential Tenant said that he was on "pins and needles" waiting for any news... he asked that I think positively and told me he'd get back to me as soon as he knew anything.
I have no reason to think positively about this. Nothing positive has happened yet. Tenants have been denied, people have lied, doors have been broken by realtors, people don't call me back, there is really no reason to think positively.
Why oh why will they not just call me?
I can't take it.
I warned D that there may be tears if this doesn't work out.
I am so very tired.
Senile
Speaking of being senile, en route to work this morning whilst alternatingly daydreaming about Ethan Hawke (somehow encountering my blog and listening to the song I wrote about him and contacting me and then becoming my dear dear friend) and fantasizing about my stupid old apartment being rented, I managed to completely walk by the subway.
I walked two entire long blocks extra across this beloved island before realizing I'd gone completely out of my way.
Sleep - I miss you ever so.
I walked two entire long blocks extra across this beloved island before realizing I'd gone completely out of my way.
Sleep - I miss you ever so.
Geography
National Geographic came out with a survey about the world and American kids aged 18 - 24 performed poorly.
I took the questionnaire, and everything was fine, but it is occurring to me that I know absolutely nothing about geography. Nothing! I don't know where anything is. If I am looking at a map I can pick things out, but if I try to imagine in my head which country El Salvador is I have absolutely no idea. I might know where it is in relationship to other countries, maybe, but unto itself? No clue.
I have never been good at geography. And since I am getting dumber with time and have Alzheimer's and can't remember anything I read or see and can't even remember what entire books or movies were about (for example, the other day I had to ask D what 2046 was about because yes, I saw it, but I can't remember anything about it), things are getting much worse.
I hate that my mind is going. I used to be smart. I was a smart kid. I was smart in college. As soon as I hit the real world, the dumbing began. I instantly forgot everything I had learned. I can't remember song lyrics. I can't remember where restaurants are. I can't remember what happened in the news a week ago. I can't remember what I read three seconds after reading it. I can't remember entire books. I will remember if I liked them or not, but can I quote from a movie? Absolutely not. I can't remember what normality is. I surely can't remember how to calculate it. I can't remember neuroscience. I can't remember who directed what movie. I'm not even good at the Kevin Bacon game anymore. I can't remember what words mean. I used to be complimented on my vast vocabulary. Now I have to ask D what he's talking about because I'm not sure what his words mean.
I have, however, evolved an uncanny ability to remember what people say. I can also remember movie times and dates, but only dates in the future. If I know something is happening in the future on a particular date, awesome. If it already happened? It's as though it never happened at all.
I don't know if this is because I am getting older or because I can't focus as much as I used to or because there is just too much information in my brain or, most likely, because I am not sleeping enough and am in a daze a majority of the time. Or maybe things are spread too thin. I think this is it. I think there is so much going on in the world, so much stimulus, that I don't concentrate on any one thing and therefore don't commit anything at all to memory and therefore can't incorporate anything that happened or was learned into my neurons.
Sometimes I actually worry that there is something wrong with my brain.
Mostly I'm just embarrassed and keep quiet and don't participate in conversations that involve trivia or politics or news.
I'm a sham.
I'm a scam.
I have everyone fooled, and I'd be lying if I said that I don't worry that someday D will find out. There will come a day when our child is doing homework and asks me to point out Azerbaijan and I will have no idea, and D will walk out immediately. He will be disappointed. He will feel fooled.
I've become more conceptual with time. I definitely want to make crafts instead of learning about my field. I want to sit on the grass reading fiction instead of reading nonfiction, which I will forget instantly. I want snippets instead of depth. I'd rather talk to a friend for two hours than read The New York Times. Not that I ever read The Times, but people do, and I feel stupid for not reading it.
I have no idea what's going on in the world. I've been so out of touch since the move. It is atrocious how unconnected I am right now.
I've been staring at maps all day, trying to remember where things are. I am wondering why so many mountain ranges begin with "A." Is this on purpose? I am trying to memorize things I will have forgotten by tonight.
Ugh.
Terrible, terrible, terrible.
More later.
I took the questionnaire, and everything was fine, but it is occurring to me that I know absolutely nothing about geography. Nothing! I don't know where anything is. If I am looking at a map I can pick things out, but if I try to imagine in my head which country El Salvador is I have absolutely no idea. I might know where it is in relationship to other countries, maybe, but unto itself? No clue.
I have never been good at geography. And since I am getting dumber with time and have Alzheimer's and can't remember anything I read or see and can't even remember what entire books or movies were about (for example, the other day I had to ask D what 2046 was about because yes, I saw it, but I can't remember anything about it), things are getting much worse.
I hate that my mind is going. I used to be smart. I was a smart kid. I was smart in college. As soon as I hit the real world, the dumbing began. I instantly forgot everything I had learned. I can't remember song lyrics. I can't remember where restaurants are. I can't remember what happened in the news a week ago. I can't remember what I read three seconds after reading it. I can't remember entire books. I will remember if I liked them or not, but can I quote from a movie? Absolutely not. I can't remember what normality is. I surely can't remember how to calculate it. I can't remember neuroscience. I can't remember who directed what movie. I'm not even good at the Kevin Bacon game anymore. I can't remember what words mean. I used to be complimented on my vast vocabulary. Now I have to ask D what he's talking about because I'm not sure what his words mean.
I have, however, evolved an uncanny ability to remember what people say. I can also remember movie times and dates, but only dates in the future. If I know something is happening in the future on a particular date, awesome. If it already happened? It's as though it never happened at all.
I don't know if this is because I am getting older or because I can't focus as much as I used to or because there is just too much information in my brain or, most likely, because I am not sleeping enough and am in a daze a majority of the time. Or maybe things are spread too thin. I think this is it. I think there is so much going on in the world, so much stimulus, that I don't concentrate on any one thing and therefore don't commit anything at all to memory and therefore can't incorporate anything that happened or was learned into my neurons.
Sometimes I actually worry that there is something wrong with my brain.
Mostly I'm just embarrassed and keep quiet and don't participate in conversations that involve trivia or politics or news.
I'm a sham.
I'm a scam.
I have everyone fooled, and I'd be lying if I said that I don't worry that someday D will find out. There will come a day when our child is doing homework and asks me to point out Azerbaijan and I will have no idea, and D will walk out immediately. He will be disappointed. He will feel fooled.
I've become more conceptual with time. I definitely want to make crafts instead of learning about my field. I want to sit on the grass reading fiction instead of reading nonfiction, which I will forget instantly. I want snippets instead of depth. I'd rather talk to a friend for two hours than read The New York Times. Not that I ever read The Times, but people do, and I feel stupid for not reading it.
I have no idea what's going on in the world. I've been so out of touch since the move. It is atrocious how unconnected I am right now.
I've been staring at maps all day, trying to remember where things are. I am wondering why so many mountain ranges begin with "A." Is this on purpose? I am trying to memorize things I will have forgotten by tonight.
Ugh.
Terrible, terrible, terrible.
More later.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Showtime, Synergy
Instead of showing the accursed apartment last night, I opted to take a break and dine with my friend J.
When J and I get together, we eat too much and drink even more. We split a bottle and salad and cheese plate and bread pudding. We devoured baguette. I accidentally ate meat because there was meat in one of the breads in the bread basket, but did I care? No, because I was happy drunk.
Which resulted in my taking the wrong train home. I wasn't thinking. I was on auto pilot, and therefore heading, apparently, to my old apartment.
I realized as soon as I got on the train that I was on the wrong train. It's not that I was on the wrong train - I was just on an express train that wouldn't stop at the closest stop to my apartment.
I got off at the stop nearest to my apartment and exited on the northwest side of the street, and then proceeded to walk south... to MY OLD APARTMENT.
It took me two blocks to realize that I was going the wrong way.
As soon as I realized what I was doing, I smiled and basically started running home because I thought "Wait! Yay! I live with D! And D is there, at my apartment, waiting for me! I can see him very soon!"
I literally ran.
And when I walked in, I fell all over him and smiled and thought "This is how it will be once my life is back to normal and I don't have to be a realtor by night."
Scientist by day, rock star... er... realtor by night. Heh.
When J and I get together, we eat too much and drink even more. We split a bottle and salad and cheese plate and bread pudding. We devoured baguette. I accidentally ate meat because there was meat in one of the breads in the bread basket, but did I care? No, because I was happy drunk.
Which resulted in my taking the wrong train home. I wasn't thinking. I was on auto pilot, and therefore heading, apparently, to my old apartment.
I realized as soon as I got on the train that I was on the wrong train. It's not that I was on the wrong train - I was just on an express train that wouldn't stop at the closest stop to my apartment.
I got off at the stop nearest to my apartment and exited on the northwest side of the street, and then proceeded to walk south... to MY OLD APARTMENT.
It took me two blocks to realize that I was going the wrong way.
As soon as I realized what I was doing, I smiled and basically started running home because I thought "Wait! Yay! I live with D! And D is there, at my apartment, waiting for me! I can see him very soon!"
I literally ran.
And when I walked in, I fell all over him and smiled and thought "This is how it will be once my life is back to normal and I don't have to be a realtor by night."
Scientist by day, rock star... er... realtor by night. Heh.
Please
Is it asking too much of the gods-of-things-actually-working-out-and-not-being-a-total-pain that both the shelves and CD cabinet be delivered as scheduled and that my apartment be rented all in the same day?!
Oh please, please, please make this the best day ever. Please.
A hyper-enthusiastic guy sent me not one but three emails last night, begging me to show him the apartment. When I got off the phone with him after a 20 minute conversation, I said "That was the guy who is going to live in my old apartment. I just know it." I begged D to show it to him at 8:00 am today. I said "This guy is overeager. He wants the apartment this minute. If we show it to him first thing in the morning, he will get the ball rolling immediately and will be living there by the end of tomorrow. I just know it. This guy is motivated. He has follow-through ability."
"What about that other girl?"
"Screw that other girl! She didn't follow through! She's irresponsible. I can tell these things about people! She is not going to get her ass in gear to apply for the apartment. This is the guy."
D, bless him, agreed to show the apartment.
I said "Look, I know it's early in the morning, but I swear this guy is going to take it. He is going to be there at 8:00, but I have a feeling he's actually going to show up at 7:20. I can just tell."
At 7:30 this morning D's phone rang, and it was the guy, saying that he was already at the apartment.
I knew it!
D claimed that the guy wanted the apartment and that he was headed directly over to the management post-viewing.
I called the guy at around noon. He was amidst trying desperately to get all of his paperwork in order - proof of employment, W-2's, all the nonsense required to live in New York City. He said that if they gave him the apartment, that he would take it.
He also said that he was going to try to talk them down on the rent and that he was still going to look at a few more places this afternoon and that he would call me when he knew what was going on.
He hasn't called.
I am freaking out.
What if they were distressed by his trying to talk them down on the rent and they are not giving him the apartment just to spite him?
What if he found a better apartment?
What if he was run over by a bus on the way to the office?
WHY ISN'T HE CALLING ME!?!??!?
I hate dealing with strangers. Seriously. I finally had a good feeling about someone and now this! How can I trust anyone? How can I trust what people tell me? So many people have claimed to be "definitely taking the apartment" and still nobody has!
Please please please let this guy take the apartment so that this nonsense can be over.
Update:
The shelves and cabinets have arrived, which means that the apartment will not be rented. I figured, at best, we'd get 2 out of 3. Ugh.
Oh please, please, please make this the best day ever. Please.
A hyper-enthusiastic guy sent me not one but three emails last night, begging me to show him the apartment. When I got off the phone with him after a 20 minute conversation, I said "That was the guy who is going to live in my old apartment. I just know it." I begged D to show it to him at 8:00 am today. I said "This guy is overeager. He wants the apartment this minute. If we show it to him first thing in the morning, he will get the ball rolling immediately and will be living there by the end of tomorrow. I just know it. This guy is motivated. He has follow-through ability."
"What about that other girl?"
"Screw that other girl! She didn't follow through! She's irresponsible. I can tell these things about people! She is not going to get her ass in gear to apply for the apartment. This is the guy."
D, bless him, agreed to show the apartment.
I said "Look, I know it's early in the morning, but I swear this guy is going to take it. He is going to be there at 8:00, but I have a feeling he's actually going to show up at 7:20. I can just tell."
At 7:30 this morning D's phone rang, and it was the guy, saying that he was already at the apartment.
I knew it!
D claimed that the guy wanted the apartment and that he was headed directly over to the management post-viewing.
I called the guy at around noon. He was amidst trying desperately to get all of his paperwork in order - proof of employment, W-2's, all the nonsense required to live in New York City. He said that if they gave him the apartment, that he would take it.
He also said that he was going to try to talk them down on the rent and that he was still going to look at a few more places this afternoon and that he would call me when he knew what was going on.
He hasn't called.
I am freaking out.
What if they were distressed by his trying to talk them down on the rent and they are not giving him the apartment just to spite him?
What if he found a better apartment?
What if he was run over by a bus on the way to the office?
WHY ISN'T HE CALLING ME!?!??!?
I hate dealing with strangers. Seriously. I finally had a good feeling about someone and now this! How can I trust anyone? How can I trust what people tell me? So many people have claimed to be "definitely taking the apartment" and still nobody has!
Please please please let this guy take the apartment so that this nonsense can be over.
Update:
The shelves and cabinets have arrived, which means that the apartment will not be rented. I figured, at best, we'd get 2 out of 3. Ugh.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Living
Genre: Emo
Date: 4.21.06
Description:
"Music is fiction."
Right.
Living together is a big transition.
It's been good. It just wasn't for a moment, and MG didn't answer the phone because she was at a diner, so during that moment I wrote this song, while he ran and showered and existed without realizing that I was freaking out and missing him even though he was physically closer than ever. So the song, of course, is fictitious, but inspired by true events.
It's mostly inspired by (and is a homage to) the Liz Phair song "Go On Ahead" from Whitechocolatespaceegg, which is one of the best songs ever written, in my humble and currently drunken opinion, and has been going through my head non-stop since the cohabitation began, not because it's accurate, but because it's good and is relevant without actually being relevant.
This song, however, is not good. I wrote and recorded it in about 30 minutes, while realizing that it's hard to write and record songs when you have a roommate who might care about the songs' content.
I'm not going to write anymore because I feel like I am going to slur my typing too so here you go.
Lyrics:
It wasn't in order to get less of you
It wasn't in order to make less of us
Not to be business partners
Not to stop drowning in duplicates
Not to self destruct
It wasn't in order to feel alone
It wasn't in order to be on my own
Not to have the most sparkly
Windows on the island
Not to write sad songs
Not to go to sleep without saying goodnight
Not to not go to sleep at all
Not to wish for information
Or smiles and kisses
Not for convenience
It's for you
To be nearer to you
It's to be nearer to you
Date: 4.21.06
Description:
"Music is fiction."
Right.
Living together is a big transition.
It's been good. It just wasn't for a moment, and MG didn't answer the phone because she was at a diner, so during that moment I wrote this song, while he ran and showered and existed without realizing that I was freaking out and missing him even though he was physically closer than ever. So the song, of course, is fictitious, but inspired by true events.
It's mostly inspired by (and is a homage to) the Liz Phair song "Go On Ahead" from Whitechocolatespaceegg, which is one of the best songs ever written, in my humble and currently drunken opinion, and has been going through my head non-stop since the cohabitation began, not because it's accurate, but because it's good and is relevant without actually being relevant.
This song, however, is not good. I wrote and recorded it in about 30 minutes, while realizing that it's hard to write and record songs when you have a roommate who might care about the songs' content.
I'm not going to write anymore because I feel like I am going to slur my typing too so here you go.
Lyrics:
It wasn't in order to get less of you
It wasn't in order to make less of us
Not to be business partners
Not to stop drowning in duplicates
Not to self destruct
It wasn't in order to feel alone
It wasn't in order to be on my own
Not to have the most sparkly
Windows on the island
Not to write sad songs
Not to go to sleep without saying goodnight
Not to not go to sleep at all
Not to wish for information
Or smiles and kisses
Not for convenience
It's for you
To be nearer to you
It's to be nearer to you
Not Crying At Work
I am in a much better mood today.
Things that improve moods include:
1. Friends who answer the phone when you really need them to
2. Talking
3. Remembering that people are not psychic
4. Talking more
5. Being nice to each other
6. Sharing burdens
7. Enthusiastic people in your old apartment
8. People being nice about your old apartment
9. Meeting cool people in your old apartment
10. Meeting cool people while accompanied by your boyfriend in your old apartment
11. Getting New York history lessons in your old apartment
12. People following through on your old apartment (although this is merely a guess, as this has yet to happen despite being promised over and over again)
13. Superballs being located
14. Trees
15. Sun
16. Stars
17. More than 8 hours sleep
18. Perfectly scrambled eggs
19. Family
20. Getting out of the city
21. Exciting news
21. Doing laundry together
22. Not actually taking a nap
23. Experiments working when they really need to
24. Clive Owen
25. Not feeling alone
Things are better today because things aren't just mine anymore, which is one of the main points, right?
Until tomorrow...
Things that improve moods include:
1. Friends who answer the phone when you really need them to
2. Talking
3. Remembering that people are not psychic
4. Talking more
5. Being nice to each other
6. Sharing burdens
7. Enthusiastic people in your old apartment
8. People being nice about your old apartment
9. Meeting cool people in your old apartment
10. Meeting cool people while accompanied by your boyfriend in your old apartment
11. Getting New York history lessons in your old apartment
12. People following through on your old apartment (although this is merely a guess, as this has yet to happen despite being promised over and over again)
13. Superballs being located
14. Trees
15. Sun
16. Stars
17. More than 8 hours sleep
18. Perfectly scrambled eggs
19. Family
20. Getting out of the city
21. Exciting news
21. Doing laundry together
22. Not actually taking a nap
23. Experiments working when they really need to
24. Clive Owen
25. Not feeling alone
Things are better today because things aren't just mine anymore, which is one of the main points, right?
Until tomorrow...
Friday, April 28, 2006
Crying At Work
So the apartment has not been rented, which means at least a month of double rent for yours truly.
Which means no Europe for me.
My boyfriend, who has a ton of money saved for buying a home outright and a ton of worthful stock he's excited to sell and an apartment that he rented with zero effort because my friend gave him a tenant and who will be going to Europe not once but twice this year, just called to tell me that his friend invited him to the world-premiere red carpet showing of Mission Impossible: 3 at The Ziegfeld, which we have both been very excited about and talking about non-stop for months and now he is going to see it with Tom Cruise and Philip Seymoure-Hoffman.
I said "Of course you should go." What am I supposed to say? No? We were supposed to do that together? Don't hang out with Tom Cruise?
"Are you going to be jealous?"
"Yes."
"Did that girl rent the apartment?"
"No."
"What about the other guy? Did you hear from him?"
"Of course not."
"Well, I'm pretty psyched. I guess since Tom Cruise is going to be there so I can't bring a weapon."
Silence.
"What? Don't you get it?"
"I think I should get off the phone. I'm going to start crying if I don't."
So he said "Oh, OK, bye," and hung up.
I am crying at work. Like actual tears streaming down my face. No sobbing, so that's good. I have to meet up with a girl to whom I am selling D's silverware, and then I am going to get my hair cut and be expected to be pleasant and fun.
I hope I don't see him today. All of this stress I am experiencing is unfairly being deflected onto him, but I guess when you're in a relationship and the source of your stress is the fact that you moved in with someone who is not experiencing the same stress, you tend to get a little bitter. I guess I naively thought we would share this, but apparently we don't.
OK. Now I am about to sob.
I have to pull it together to explain how I want someone to fix this horrific haircut that D gave me.
Which means no Europe for me.
My boyfriend, who has a ton of money saved for buying a home outright and a ton of worthful stock he's excited to sell and an apartment that he rented with zero effort because my friend gave him a tenant and who will be going to Europe not once but twice this year, just called to tell me that his friend invited him to the world-premiere red carpet showing of Mission Impossible: 3 at The Ziegfeld, which we have both been very excited about and talking about non-stop for months and now he is going to see it with Tom Cruise and Philip Seymoure-Hoffman.
I said "Of course you should go." What am I supposed to say? No? We were supposed to do that together? Don't hang out with Tom Cruise?
"Are you going to be jealous?"
"Yes."
"Did that girl rent the apartment?"
"No."
"What about the other guy? Did you hear from him?"
"Of course not."
"Well, I'm pretty psyched. I guess since Tom Cruise is going to be there so I can't bring a weapon."
Silence.
"What? Don't you get it?"
"I think I should get off the phone. I'm going to start crying if I don't."
So he said "Oh, OK, bye," and hung up.
I am crying at work. Like actual tears streaming down my face. No sobbing, so that's good. I have to meet up with a girl to whom I am selling D's silverware, and then I am going to get my hair cut and be expected to be pleasant and fun.
I hope I don't see him today. All of this stress I am experiencing is unfairly being deflected onto him, but I guess when you're in a relationship and the source of your stress is the fact that you moved in with someone who is not experiencing the same stress, you tend to get a little bitter. I guess I naively thought we would share this, but apparently we don't.
OK. Now I am about to sob.
I have to pull it together to explain how I want someone to fix this horrific haircut that D gave me.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Windows
Would someone please tell my dear boyfriend that "dirty windows" is not listed among the reasons why my old apartment is not being rented?
The man is obsessed.
He offered this morning to conduct this evening's apartment viewing so that I could actually go straight home post-work for the first time ever in the new apartment. I'd planned on taking him up on his offer, until I ran into him at work, where he complained about his "stiff neck" and how "so tired" he is and how he wants to "sit in the hot tub tonight" because his neck "hurts so bad."
I feel bad for him and his stiff neck, and don't want him to have to be at the apartment. He should not have to sit at the apartment so that I can relax for one night since it is he who has a stiff neck.
I said "Look, no, don't worry about it. You don't need to be there. I'll go."
"No, I don't mind. Just give me your keys."
"Well, I mind. Your neck hurts. You're in a bad mood. You clearly don't want to do this tonight. You want to sit in the hot tub."
"No, I'll do it."
"Don't worry about it."
"Well, then, can I come and keep you company?"
Much more appealing, because then it wouldn't be complete torture for either of us.
I agreed to the keeping of company.
He called just now and said "I'm coming to get your keys."
"Why?"
"So I can meet people."
"But nobody will be there."
"Why not?"
"Because I told people to come at 6:00 because that's when I can be there."
"Oh, ok. Then I'll meet you up there?"
"Really, you don't have to come. It's ok."
"Well, I really want to clean the windows."
"No."
"I bet if you clean the windows people will rent it."
"No."
"No, I want to."
"Look, I'm not going to stop you, but every single person who has walked into that apartment has said 'This is the cleanest apartment I've ever seen' followed by 'Wow, the sunlight here is amazing.' I don't think city dust on the windows is the reason people aren't renting it."
"No, but it will make a difference."
"I don't think it will make the difference. Honestly, honey, I'm not sure most people are looking at the outsides of city windows. I know it's important to you but I think they probably know that the windows are going to be gross again in two weeks, especially living above the gas station that sometimes has explosions followed by immense clouds of chemical dust."
"I think it will get rented if I go up there with a towel..."
"No."
"But..."
"No."
"But..."
"No. It is the price and the location and the size and not the outside of the windows. I promise you. Nobody is going to pass up an apartment they actually like because of the windows. Please."
"OK. See you at home."
Am I wrong? Are people really concerned with this? Honestly, when I've seen apartments I've liked I have never noticed the status of the outsides of the windows. I've looked at the insides. I've made sure I can see out of them. I agree with him that a clean window really makes a big difference, but I don't think its a deal breaker, especially not in NYC.
Not to mention the fact that it is not my responsibility to maintain the outside of the building. Yes, if I lived there and I was driven mad by the insantly accumulating city residue on my windows (like D), sure, clean them. But after I've moved out? No.
If he wants to, he can do it, but I don't want to be there if he's doing it whilst in a vile mood.
Which reminds me... I have an apartment to show!
Until tomorrow...
The man is obsessed.
He offered this morning to conduct this evening's apartment viewing so that I could actually go straight home post-work for the first time ever in the new apartment. I'd planned on taking him up on his offer, until I ran into him at work, where he complained about his "stiff neck" and how "so tired" he is and how he wants to "sit in the hot tub tonight" because his neck "hurts so bad."
I feel bad for him and his stiff neck, and don't want him to have to be at the apartment. He should not have to sit at the apartment so that I can relax for one night since it is he who has a stiff neck.
I said "Look, no, don't worry about it. You don't need to be there. I'll go."
"No, I don't mind. Just give me your keys."
"Well, I mind. Your neck hurts. You're in a bad mood. You clearly don't want to do this tonight. You want to sit in the hot tub."
"No, I'll do it."
"Don't worry about it."
"Well, then, can I come and keep you company?"
Much more appealing, because then it wouldn't be complete torture for either of us.
I agreed to the keeping of company.
He called just now and said "I'm coming to get your keys."
"Why?"
"So I can meet people."
"But nobody will be there."
"Why not?"
"Because I told people to come at 6:00 because that's when I can be there."
"Oh, ok. Then I'll meet you up there?"
"Really, you don't have to come. It's ok."
"Well, I really want to clean the windows."
"No."
"I bet if you clean the windows people will rent it."
"No."
"No, I want to."
"Look, I'm not going to stop you, but every single person who has walked into that apartment has said 'This is the cleanest apartment I've ever seen' followed by 'Wow, the sunlight here is amazing.' I don't think city dust on the windows is the reason people aren't renting it."
"No, but it will make a difference."
"I don't think it will make the difference. Honestly, honey, I'm not sure most people are looking at the outsides of city windows. I know it's important to you but I think they probably know that the windows are going to be gross again in two weeks, especially living above the gas station that sometimes has explosions followed by immense clouds of chemical dust."
"I think it will get rented if I go up there with a towel..."
"No."
"But..."
"No."
"But..."
"No. It is the price and the location and the size and not the outside of the windows. I promise you. Nobody is going to pass up an apartment they actually like because of the windows. Please."
"OK. See you at home."
Am I wrong? Are people really concerned with this? Honestly, when I've seen apartments I've liked I have never noticed the status of the outsides of the windows. I've looked at the insides. I've made sure I can see out of them. I agree with him that a clean window really makes a big difference, but I don't think its a deal breaker, especially not in NYC.
Not to mention the fact that it is not my responsibility to maintain the outside of the building. Yes, if I lived there and I was driven mad by the insantly accumulating city residue on my windows (like D), sure, clean them. But after I've moved out? No.
If he wants to, he can do it, but I don't want to be there if he's doing it whilst in a vile mood.
Which reminds me... I have an apartment to show!
Until tomorrow...
Last Night
Two no-shows. Jerks.
And again, two really enthusiastic girls. As with the night before, one took all of the information and said "I am going to go there tomorrow to fill out an application! I WANT this apartment! It's perfect for me." I asked her to call me either way, even if she changed her mind, as I asked the girl the night before.
I've heard from neither of them. Of course.
I really can't take this anymore. I can't believe that my old apartment has become my entire life. I have spent more time in that apartment since I've moved out than I ever did when I lived there.
I hate people.
Except for the guys who bought my bookshelf last night.
And again, two really enthusiastic girls. As with the night before, one took all of the information and said "I am going to go there tomorrow to fill out an application! I WANT this apartment! It's perfect for me." I asked her to call me either way, even if she changed her mind, as I asked the girl the night before.
I've heard from neither of them. Of course.
I really can't take this anymore. I can't believe that my old apartment has become my entire life. I have spent more time in that apartment since I've moved out than I ever did when I lived there.
I hate people.
Except for the guys who bought my bookshelf last night.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Catching Up
OK. Getting caught up. Ugh. Work is still crazy, apartment is still unrented, life is still stressful but normalcy will return eventually.
Here are some things I meant to blog about but didn't because I have been too busy calling strangers and working like a maniac and, well, yeah. Breathe.
1. I saw Kinky Boots, which is a film in my favorite genre, that being feel-good but not-too-sappy wacky based-on-a-true-story British film with British or Scottish people doing weird things in a very cute way. I loved it, and it was just what my mood needed this weekend. Thanks, PW, for coming out in the rain and giving me a hug.
2. The Boss was mean to me and I was all upset, especially given the mood as of late. I know that he, too, is stressed. I vow if I ever am The Boss that I will not allow stress to trickle down. I wanted to cry, to look for a new job, to crawl into a hole. The following day he apologized and said it wasn't fair of him and that he is going through family drama and he took out his anger towards his brother on me. Oh, The Boss. He's a good guy. We all handle stress differently.
3. I started a new class last week. It was terrible. I knew too much. The teacher was also terrible. She sat down to teach and used notecards. If you have to use notecards to teach the class, you probably shouldn't be teaching the class.
4. I transferred into an entirely different class. When the TA (who looks just like young Cher) told us that the real teacher would be out sick and that we'd be having a substitute, I had a panic attack because I was nearly certain that the teacher from the previous class would be the sub. Luckily she was not, and intead we had this gigantic Austrian guy whose catch phrase was "as such."
5. When you are cohabitating you end up watching things that you wouldn't ordinarily watch. D was given a copy of MTV's Wonder Showzen on DVD for his birthday. It's ok. Funny at times. Mostly tasteless. In case you don't know what it is (neither D nor I had ever heard of it - I guess this is the sort of thing you know about if you have cable), it is basically Sesame Street for adults, and in incredibly bad taste with kids saying things that they don't understand. I guess its pretty funny. Anyway, one of the puppets (green) was distressed and was trying to convince another puppet to let her do something, so she was like "I will put on a puppet show to convince you!" So the green puppet put on a puppet show with mini puppet-versions of her and the other puppet. And then the mini puppet version of the green puppet put on a smaller puppet show of the same thing. And then the even smaller puppet put on yet another smaller puppet show of the same thing. It was so freaking funny.
6. The new stove sucks. Hard. D tried to make crepes and it was a disaster.
7. We tried to make potato pancakes last night and they too were a disaster.
8. Luckily the fried ravioli were good.
9. I have yet to locate a superball-selling machine in this city! Where are kids getting superballs!?
10. It's hard to write songs when you live with someone else. While D was running I wrote the song. When he went out to grab milk I quickly recorded it. While he was in the shower I did vocals. I haven't mixed it down yet, though. Hopefully I will have time to do that tonight after showing my apartment and selling bookshelves and watching The Gilmore Girls. I think D will be mortified that I watch that show, but he can deal.
11. It's also hard to call your girlfriends to flip out about living with someone when you live with someone.
12. I didn't sleep very much this weekend. I think things are settling in, and it's not that I'm distressed. I am just aware of the seriousness of such decisions and about the amount of effort that living together will require. I think living together requires a new level of dialogue that I am not immediately comfortable with. We have to find sweet ways of saying "I need to be alone now" and "I need you to be with me now while I cry."
13. I said both of those things this weekend. The first was remarkably easy to say. The second was extremely difficult.
14. I went grocery shopping this weekend with D for food for our apartment. Utterly insane.
15. The apartment is looking good. I am trying to decide if it's worth it to buy new bedding. We both went nuts about this set we saw in SoHo and we've been obsessed ever since. Do we need it? No. Do either of us have real grownup bedding? No. My sheets are lame, I am in no way attached to them. I bought them because they were purple and because they were cheap. My blankets are equally lame, and I've had them for even longer. His sheets used to be navy but are now faded. I think grownup bedding is a worthwhile investment, but every time we get tempted with such things I say "Hold off... we will wait for a time when someone will give them to us" and then we both giggle and freak out and then get excited. I think if I rent my apartment before 5/1 I will buy them for us, because new fancy luscious sheets are a good investment and it will be something for us, which I think is important. When I said "I really think we should just get them" he said "So do I, but we're not leaving many things for people to give to us..."
16. I haven't talked to anyone in ages. I haven't even talked to my parents. I'm so cut off. I haven't read the news. I have no idea what's going on in the world outside of my two apartments and my bench. It's terrible.
17. I slept on the couch on Saturday night because I was sad.
18. I have to learn that informing someone of your sadness can actually make you happier.
19. At what point in a relationship will I be comfortable and not rendered incapacitated with insecurity when my boyfriend talks about some girl he met at a party who he talked to all night and who was so cool because she's an industrial designer and then looks up her line on the web and then says that he has invited us to visit her in Philadelphia because not only is she an industrial designer how awesome is that but she is also an artist and painter and we can see her studio? Luckily I knew of the line he was talking about and said "You will hate it" before he looked it up and realized that he hated it. And yes, he invited us to her studio but no, I do not want to go to her studio and be all third wheel while they talk art and while he hangs on her every word and brushstroke. I said "Actually, I'll just hang out with NR when we go to Philly since that's why we're going to Philly and you can be smitten on your own." Ouch. Bitchy. But moreso because of other things non-related to industrial designing girls. This is all but forgotten, but will be a sore subject when Philly happens.
20. Am feeling more positive today because the sun is shining and the boss has apologized and people were nice to my apartment last night and I don't care about girls in Philadelphia because I like living with D now and I think everything will be fine. Right. It will.
Here are some things I meant to blog about but didn't because I have been too busy calling strangers and working like a maniac and, well, yeah. Breathe.
1. I saw Kinky Boots, which is a film in my favorite genre, that being feel-good but not-too-sappy wacky based-on-a-true-story British film with British or Scottish people doing weird things in a very cute way. I loved it, and it was just what my mood needed this weekend. Thanks, PW, for coming out in the rain and giving me a hug.
2. The Boss was mean to me and I was all upset, especially given the mood as of late. I know that he, too, is stressed. I vow if I ever am The Boss that I will not allow stress to trickle down. I wanted to cry, to look for a new job, to crawl into a hole. The following day he apologized and said it wasn't fair of him and that he is going through family drama and he took out his anger towards his brother on me. Oh, The Boss. He's a good guy. We all handle stress differently.
3. I started a new class last week. It was terrible. I knew too much. The teacher was also terrible. She sat down to teach and used notecards. If you have to use notecards to teach the class, you probably shouldn't be teaching the class.
4. I transferred into an entirely different class. When the TA (who looks just like young Cher) told us that the real teacher would be out sick and that we'd be having a substitute, I had a panic attack because I was nearly certain that the teacher from the previous class would be the sub. Luckily she was not, and intead we had this gigantic Austrian guy whose catch phrase was "as such."
5. When you are cohabitating you end up watching things that you wouldn't ordinarily watch. D was given a copy of MTV's Wonder Showzen on DVD for his birthday. It's ok. Funny at times. Mostly tasteless. In case you don't know what it is (neither D nor I had ever heard of it - I guess this is the sort of thing you know about if you have cable), it is basically Sesame Street for adults, and in incredibly bad taste with kids saying things that they don't understand. I guess its pretty funny. Anyway, one of the puppets (green) was distressed and was trying to convince another puppet to let her do something, so she was like "I will put on a puppet show to convince you!" So the green puppet put on a puppet show with mini puppet-versions of her and the other puppet. And then the mini puppet version of the green puppet put on a smaller puppet show of the same thing. And then the even smaller puppet put on yet another smaller puppet show of the same thing. It was so freaking funny.
6. The new stove sucks. Hard. D tried to make crepes and it was a disaster.
7. We tried to make potato pancakes last night and they too were a disaster.
8. Luckily the fried ravioli were good.
9. I have yet to locate a superball-selling machine in this city! Where are kids getting superballs!?
10. It's hard to write songs when you live with someone else. While D was running I wrote the song. When he went out to grab milk I quickly recorded it. While he was in the shower I did vocals. I haven't mixed it down yet, though. Hopefully I will have time to do that tonight after showing my apartment and selling bookshelves and watching The Gilmore Girls. I think D will be mortified that I watch that show, but he can deal.
11. It's also hard to call your girlfriends to flip out about living with someone when you live with someone.
12. I didn't sleep very much this weekend. I think things are settling in, and it's not that I'm distressed. I am just aware of the seriousness of such decisions and about the amount of effort that living together will require. I think living together requires a new level of dialogue that I am not immediately comfortable with. We have to find sweet ways of saying "I need to be alone now" and "I need you to be with me now while I cry."
13. I said both of those things this weekend. The first was remarkably easy to say. The second was extremely difficult.
14. I went grocery shopping this weekend with D for food for our apartment. Utterly insane.
15. The apartment is looking good. I am trying to decide if it's worth it to buy new bedding. We both went nuts about this set we saw in SoHo and we've been obsessed ever since. Do we need it? No. Do either of us have real grownup bedding? No. My sheets are lame, I am in no way attached to them. I bought them because they were purple and because they were cheap. My blankets are equally lame, and I've had them for even longer. His sheets used to be navy but are now faded. I think grownup bedding is a worthwhile investment, but every time we get tempted with such things I say "Hold off... we will wait for a time when someone will give them to us" and then we both giggle and freak out and then get excited. I think if I rent my apartment before 5/1 I will buy them for us, because new fancy luscious sheets are a good investment and it will be something for us, which I think is important. When I said "I really think we should just get them" he said "So do I, but we're not leaving many things for people to give to us..."
16. I haven't talked to anyone in ages. I haven't even talked to my parents. I'm so cut off. I haven't read the news. I have no idea what's going on in the world outside of my two apartments and my bench. It's terrible.
17. I slept on the couch on Saturday night because I was sad.
18. I have to learn that informing someone of your sadness can actually make you happier.
19. At what point in a relationship will I be comfortable and not rendered incapacitated with insecurity when my boyfriend talks about some girl he met at a party who he talked to all night and who was so cool because she's an industrial designer and then looks up her line on the web and then says that he has invited us to visit her in Philadelphia because not only is she an industrial designer how awesome is that but she is also an artist and painter and we can see her studio? Luckily I knew of the line he was talking about and said "You will hate it" before he looked it up and realized that he hated it. And yes, he invited us to her studio but no, I do not want to go to her studio and be all third wheel while they talk art and while he hangs on her every word and brushstroke. I said "Actually, I'll just hang out with NR when we go to Philly since that's why we're going to Philly and you can be smitten on your own." Ouch. Bitchy. But moreso because of other things non-related to industrial designing girls. This is all but forgotten, but will be a sore subject when Philly happens.
20. Am feeling more positive today because the sun is shining and the boss has apologized and people were nice to my apartment last night and I don't care about girls in Philadelphia because I like living with D now and I think everything will be fine. Right. It will.
Craigslist People
I've met so many people in the past two weeks its absurd.
On top of meeting a bunch of people every day who do not want to live in my apartment, I've engaged in the "sell everything I own using Craigslist" portion of moving.
Not that I'm selling everything I own. I am selling things that are duplicates of D's things. Included: VCR, 5-disc CD changer, and ancient AIWA stereo from college with a non-functional CD player but decent enough speakers and double tape deck! Woop! I am also selling things that are no longer required, such as my adorable kitchen cart with drawers. Without items in the drawers, lovely. With Hershey Bars and Macaroni and Cheese rations, eye sore. I am trying to sell the wall mounting shelves that saved me in midtown. I am trying to sell the bookshelf I bought for $7 when I moved into my first ever apartment post-college.
D and I agreed that the kitchen cart would sell first and that the AIWA stereo wouldn't sell at all given its age and the fact that it is hideous to behold. D said "Please promise me that if nobody wants that in a week we will remove it from the household." "Well... I want to try to give it away for free before we do that... but yes... I understand, and yes, it will be removed."
We argued about the VCR. D wants me to convert all of my VHS tapes to DVD because "Who watches VHS tapes anymore? We don't need a VCR at all. Nobody uses VCR's. Who uses VCR's?" "I bet it will sell. I'm only selling it for $10." "But why would people be watching VHS?" "I don't know... old home movies, maybe they still tape things because not everyone can afford a TiVo, I don't know. It will sell."
The items were sold in this order:
Kitchen cart (stampede for this; sold to a frantic girl who had just moved into a new place and who was trying to buy D's IKEA dresser which was not for sale, sadly she did not want any electronics)
VCR (hah!; to an equally frantic girl who said "Mine just broke and I'm going away for a week and have to find one before I leave!")
AIWA Stereo (inconceivable!; sold to a DJ who has turntables but no money left, he will use it as a receiver since it is black and in his opinion decent looking and was thrilled about the tape deck because he will be able to tape his music; his friends gushed about our apartment and D and I were ever so proud)
Someone is coming to pick up the book shelf tonight, and hopefully the white sort-of-floating shelves. That leaves only the 5-disc changer, which I thought would sell rather quickly.
You can't predict these things. You can't predict what people will need.
I have no idea how we existed pre-Craig.
On top of meeting a bunch of people every day who do not want to live in my apartment, I've engaged in the "sell everything I own using Craigslist" portion of moving.
Not that I'm selling everything I own. I am selling things that are duplicates of D's things. Included: VCR, 5-disc CD changer, and ancient AIWA stereo from college with a non-functional CD player but decent enough speakers and double tape deck! Woop! I am also selling things that are no longer required, such as my adorable kitchen cart with drawers. Without items in the drawers, lovely. With Hershey Bars and Macaroni and Cheese rations, eye sore. I am trying to sell the wall mounting shelves that saved me in midtown. I am trying to sell the bookshelf I bought for $7 when I moved into my first ever apartment post-college.
D and I agreed that the kitchen cart would sell first and that the AIWA stereo wouldn't sell at all given its age and the fact that it is hideous to behold. D said "Please promise me that if nobody wants that in a week we will remove it from the household." "Well... I want to try to give it away for free before we do that... but yes... I understand, and yes, it will be removed."
We argued about the VCR. D wants me to convert all of my VHS tapes to DVD because "Who watches VHS tapes anymore? We don't need a VCR at all. Nobody uses VCR's. Who uses VCR's?" "I bet it will sell. I'm only selling it for $10." "But why would people be watching VHS?" "I don't know... old home movies, maybe they still tape things because not everyone can afford a TiVo, I don't know. It will sell."
The items were sold in this order:
Kitchen cart (stampede for this; sold to a frantic girl who had just moved into a new place and who was trying to buy D's IKEA dresser which was not for sale, sadly she did not want any electronics)
VCR (hah!; to an equally frantic girl who said "Mine just broke and I'm going away for a week and have to find one before I leave!")
AIWA Stereo (inconceivable!; sold to a DJ who has turntables but no money left, he will use it as a receiver since it is black and in his opinion decent looking and was thrilled about the tape deck because he will be able to tape his music; his friends gushed about our apartment and D and I were ever so proud)
Someone is coming to pick up the book shelf tonight, and hopefully the white sort-of-floating shelves. That leaves only the 5-disc changer, which I thought would sell rather quickly.
You can't predict these things. You can't predict what people will need.
I have no idea how we existed pre-Craig.
Lame People
Some other lame people I've encountered whilst trying to rent my apartment:
"Well, seeing this apartment just confirms that I need to increase my budget for rent."
"Ummm... I actually just walked by your apartment and decided I'm not even going to come up because... well... the area."
"No, no, this just won't do. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even interested in this place. It's just on my way home. I don't think you'll have a hard time renting it, though. I just couldn't live here. Why not? Well, I want my friends to visit me and nobody would visit here. I mean, this area just isn't cool enough. I mean, how would I convince my friends to hang out here? I have to live in the East Village or something. And really, money is no object for me so why would I live here?"
(Note: this guy was totally a smug business tool aged approximately 25, to whom I wanted to say "You and your friends suck, and they clearly don't like you very much, since they won't visit you unless your apartment meets certain criteria, but then again, I don't see how anyone could actually like you for you, so I guess I understand where they're coming from.")
"NO! TOO SMALL!" said the girl in her pointy high heels and too-much makeup and impeccable hair, in just enough time before I tackled her and her pointy-heeled friend for fear of their leaving small bitchy little dents in my spotless apartment.
(Note: literally, that's all she said after saying "hello.")
Ugh. It is nice that none of these people liked my apartment, because if they had I'd have been conflicted as I don't want any of these types of people to live there.
Not everyone has been this lame. There have been lukewarm people and charming people and people I'd love to befriend.
But not these people. These people suck, and not because they don't like my apartment. They just suck, and they don't deserve to live in my apartment anyway. Hmph.
"Well, seeing this apartment just confirms that I need to increase my budget for rent."
"Ummm... I actually just walked by your apartment and decided I'm not even going to come up because... well... the area."
"No, no, this just won't do. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even interested in this place. It's just on my way home. I don't think you'll have a hard time renting it, though. I just couldn't live here. Why not? Well, I want my friends to visit me and nobody would visit here. I mean, this area just isn't cool enough. I mean, how would I convince my friends to hang out here? I have to live in the East Village or something. And really, money is no object for me so why would I live here?"
(Note: this guy was totally a smug business tool aged approximately 25, to whom I wanted to say "You and your friends suck, and they clearly don't like you very much, since they won't visit you unless your apartment meets certain criteria, but then again, I don't see how anyone could actually like you for you, so I guess I understand where they're coming from.")
"NO! TOO SMALL!" said the girl in her pointy high heels and too-much makeup and impeccable hair, in just enough time before I tackled her and her pointy-heeled friend for fear of their leaving small bitchy little dents in my spotless apartment.
(Note: literally, that's all she said after saying "hello.")
Ugh. It is nice that none of these people liked my apartment, because if they had I'd have been conflicted as I don't want any of these types of people to live there.
Not everyone has been this lame. There have been lukewarm people and charming people and people I'd love to befriend.
But not these people. These people suck, and not because they don't like my apartment. They just suck, and they don't deserve to live in my apartment anyway. Hmph.
Words
I am trying to figure out what to do with some spinach I have in the refrigerator.
It will soon go bad.
I went to recipesource.com and typed in "spinach," and have been staring at the word "spinach" for the past half an hour and it's tripping me out.
"Spinach" is a really weird looking word, when you stare at it for too long.
SPINACH.
I just typed in "spinach quiche" and I think my brain is about to explode.
It will soon go bad.
I went to recipesource.com and typed in "spinach," and have been staring at the word "spinach" for the past half an hour and it's tripping me out.
"Spinach" is a really weird looking word, when you stare at it for too long.
SPINACH.
I just typed in "spinach quiche" and I think my brain is about to explode.
Nice People
Four viewings of the apartment were scheduled last evening.
I asked D to accompany me, as spending time alone in that place has really been getting to me. He obliged, of course, because he is good-natured and because he's been desperately trying to come up with ways "to help" and "to make things easier" and "to not feel so helpless."
As we approached the apartment, D said "Oh no! I think those two girls are waiting to see your apartment!" We were over a block away. I said "How can you tell?" He said "I can just tell."
I suffered a mild panic, but on the behalf of the girls, because how awkward must it be to look at an apartment you might potentially adore at the same time as someone else? It must be like interviewing for a job at the same exact time as another potential candidate.
I said "Hey, are you guys here to look at the apartment?"
They were both there to look at the apartment.
I fell in love with both of them immediately. I desperately want one of them to live there.
And, bizarrely, they both liked it!
Of course I can't count on strangers to have good credit and to get their acts together enough to fill out an application and woo The Landlord's Lackey (although, I must state on the record that The Landlord's Lackey has metamorphosed into a sickly sweet care-giving woman who said, on the phone yesterday, "I know, this must be so stressful for you, I completely understand and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help"), so hopes are not up.
Nevertheless...
It was slightly awkward when the first girl, more of a go-getter and assured of herself to the point that I was made jealous, declared "I will apply for it. Please give me the information."
The second girl was adorable and I want her to liver there only so I can give her my old shelves and become her new best friend.
A guy came third, and he too was enamored with the place but isn't looking to move until July. But he was flexible. He'd mentioned his salary in my original screening email and yes, he can most certainly be flexible. He had a friend with him, and, again, I immediately fell in love with them both.
Which brings me to the fourth guy, and the fourth guy will be the first in a story of ill-mannered potential tenants about whom I will blog when things are less frantic at work.
OK. First of all, I should have known better as he is "a student." Not that I have anything against students, but students can be, well, flaky, and are therefore less than appealing as potential tenants.
Second of all, he had a name that annoyed me.
He did not show up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and because I am organized to a fault, I had his name and phone number and appointment time written down on the neverending list of people-who-will-look-at-and-criticize my apartment.
I called him.
This is what happened:
Me: Hello?
Boy: Hello?
Me: Is this Boy?
Boy: Yes.
Me: Hi, this is Leah Lar, I'm wondering if you still wanted to take a look at the apartment tonight.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hi.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hello.
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: (checking phone, having 5 bars)
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: Hello? Can you hear me?
Boy: I can't hear you.
Hangs up.
I call back. Phone rings. He does not pick up. At all.
Tool.
I asked D to accompany me, as spending time alone in that place has really been getting to me. He obliged, of course, because he is good-natured and because he's been desperately trying to come up with ways "to help" and "to make things easier" and "to not feel so helpless."
As we approached the apartment, D said "Oh no! I think those two girls are waiting to see your apartment!" We were over a block away. I said "How can you tell?" He said "I can just tell."
I suffered a mild panic, but on the behalf of the girls, because how awkward must it be to look at an apartment you might potentially adore at the same time as someone else? It must be like interviewing for a job at the same exact time as another potential candidate.
I said "Hey, are you guys here to look at the apartment?"
They were both there to look at the apartment.
I fell in love with both of them immediately. I desperately want one of them to live there.
And, bizarrely, they both liked it!
Of course I can't count on strangers to have good credit and to get their acts together enough to fill out an application and woo The Landlord's Lackey (although, I must state on the record that The Landlord's Lackey has metamorphosed into a sickly sweet care-giving woman who said, on the phone yesterday, "I know, this must be so stressful for you, I completely understand and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help"), so hopes are not up.
Nevertheless...
It was slightly awkward when the first girl, more of a go-getter and assured of herself to the point that I was made jealous, declared "I will apply for it. Please give me the information."
The second girl was adorable and I want her to liver there only so I can give her my old shelves and become her new best friend.
A guy came third, and he too was enamored with the place but isn't looking to move until July. But he was flexible. He'd mentioned his salary in my original screening email and yes, he can most certainly be flexible. He had a friend with him, and, again, I immediately fell in love with them both.
Which brings me to the fourth guy, and the fourth guy will be the first in a story of ill-mannered potential tenants about whom I will blog when things are less frantic at work.
OK. First of all, I should have known better as he is "a student." Not that I have anything against students, but students can be, well, flaky, and are therefore less than appealing as potential tenants.
Second of all, he had a name that annoyed me.
He did not show up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and because I am organized to a fault, I had his name and phone number and appointment time written down on the neverending list of people-who-will-look-at-and-criticize my apartment.
I called him.
This is what happened:
Me: Hello?
Boy: Hello?
Me: Is this Boy?
Boy: Yes.
Me: Hi, this is Leah Lar, I'm wondering if you still wanted to take a look at the apartment tonight.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hi.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hello.
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: (checking phone, having 5 bars)
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: Hello? Can you hear me?
Boy: I can't hear you.
Hangs up.
I call back. Phone rings. He does not pick up. At all.
Tool.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Rain, Please, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
Rain, Please, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
Please, Rain, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I also hate that I walk in some bizarre way that causes rain water to accumulate on my legs below my knees, and especially in my pant cuffs. This morning I conducted a study in which I stared at the legs of other people, and deduced that this phenomenon seems not to plague others. I think maybe 1 in 10 people I looked at had wet cuffs.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffolding in NYC, I love it above all else on days like this.
I also hate that I walk in some bizarre way that causes rain water to accumulate on my legs below my knees, and especially in my pant cuffs. This morning I conducted a study in which I stared at the legs of other people, and deduced that this phenomenon seems not to plague others. I think maybe 1 in 10 people I looked at had wet cuffs.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffolding in NYC, I love it above all else on days like this.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Black and White
I watched "Good Night and Good Luck" last night, which was mostly boring aside from, of course, George Clooney.
In addition, I couldn't stop marvelling over how much David Straithairn resembles Sam The Eagle. It's uncanny.
In addition, I couldn't stop marvelling over how much David Straithairn resembles Sam The Eagle. It's uncanny.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Fatigue and Nothing More
So.
I've been terrible at blogging as of late for two reasons.
The first reason is that I haven't really had time. I generally blog from work, and work has been at its most insane as of late.
The second reason is that I am boring right now. My brain and body have disconnected, I travel through life in a general haze, not sure of what I am doing or supposed to be doing or what would be best to be doing at any given time. My life right now is:
- posting ads
- calling people to respond to the ads
- trying to convince them that they absolutely must live in my former apartment
- feeling guilty for acting so smarmy
- hoping that people actually show up for their appointments to view the apartment
- telling people that the neighborhood is really really quiet followed by feeling guilty for acting so smarmy
- sitting on hardwood floors reading a book while waiting for people to show up and tell me that my apartment is "too small" or that "the area is terrible" or that the landlords are "asking too much"
- fantasize about yelling at the landlords and telling them that they're making it virtually impossible for me to find a replacement tenant and then hopefully suing them or throwing a fit in their office or something because I hate this more than anything I have ever done in my life
- getting up early to show the apartment
- getting into work early to leave early to show the apartment
- going to class and hating it
- getting home from class really late and doing things around the apartment while detesting the class
- transferring into another class and going to it and liking it but not being entirely sure that I like it since I am in a zombie state
- not sleeping enough
- not sleeping well
- not eating enough
- not eating well
- not enjoying anything because all I can think about is renting my stupid apartment
- experiencing great anxiety about money
- supporting D in ordering a CD cabinet
- spending too much money on awesome modular shelves from DWR
- wishing I had more money
- wishing I had more job security
- wishing I had more time time time and then also more time
- wishing I had a minute to myself
- daydreaming about not having to deal with this apartment situation
- daydreaming about pictures hung on the walls
- daydreaming about air conditioners already installed
- daydreaming about cabinets and shelves already delivered
- daydreaming about being settled
- daydreaming about a functional stove
Life is so very boring right now. I want desperately to enjoy living with D, but I have barely been in the apartment since we moved. And when I am, I'm irritable and short and not wanting to paint or unpack or organize or whatever. I do these things because they mean a lot to D, but man, I just want to watch a movie or read a book or something.
We are supposed to go to a comedy show with D's friends tonight but little does he know that I am not going. If I have to interact with people after showing my apartment to like 8 people (well, probably 3 of them will show up and I'll be sitting there on the floor for an hour and a half clinging to false hopes) I think I will kill someone. I need desperately to do laundry and file my nails (still distressed from moving tons of boxes) and stare at something and not be in transit.
I feel like I've walked three thousand miles this week.
Ugh. Last week there was lots of walking, lots of going back and forth between old and new apartment, up and down stairs, into and out of trucks, etc. Last weekend was walking to Home Depot and Bed, Bath and Beyond and the grocery store and back and forth between old and new apartments and carrying stuff all the time.
And this week:
Monday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to Joe's Pub from work, walked from Joe's Pub to D's old apartment, from D's old apartment to train, from train to new apartment. Home by 10:30 and curtain rod project.
Tuesday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to train, walked from train to class, walked from class to apartment. Home by 10:00 and sanding and painting and vacuuming and what else I can't even remember.
Wednesday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to train, walked from train to old apartment, walked from old apartment to meet C for dinner, walked from dinner to apartment. Home, drunk, yes!, by 10:00 after eating the best gnocchi ever which happens to be on my new street! Woo. Then unpacking and cramming things into closets and rearranging closets and hampers and shoes and I don't know what else because I was drunk.
Thursday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked from work to and then through SoHo which involved walking for about an hour and a half staring at lovely furniture and bedding that we will never be able to have, walked back to work, walked to train, took train to class, walked to class, walked to apartment from class. Home by 10:00 and in good mood because class was better. Ate popcorn and made phone calls about old apartment and did nothing house related other than look online at potential shelving and cabinet schemes.
Friday: Walked to old apartment from new apartment, walked from old apartment to train, walked from train to work, walked around SoHo again for an hour, and will soon be taking train to old apartment where I will hang out for an hour and a half, then I will walk to CVS, then I will walk with bundles home, then I will walk to the laundromat and then and only then will I be sedentary.
And I'm not going anywhere because dammit I want to just be in the new apartment. I want to eat a meal there. I want to know what it's like to live there. I want D to come home to me instead of the other way around. Of course I will be asleep when he comes home but this is not the point! I feel a lot like I'm staying at his place because he's spent far more time there this week than I have.
Granted this is not how it will be always, but it will be like this until I unload that accursed apartment, and until then I will be there every night and morning.
Oh my god I am so boring.
I swear I will be less boring next week.
Have good weekends!
I've been terrible at blogging as of late for two reasons.
The first reason is that I haven't really had time. I generally blog from work, and work has been at its most insane as of late.
The second reason is that I am boring right now. My brain and body have disconnected, I travel through life in a general haze, not sure of what I am doing or supposed to be doing or what would be best to be doing at any given time. My life right now is:
- posting ads
- calling people to respond to the ads
- trying to convince them that they absolutely must live in my former apartment
- feeling guilty for acting so smarmy
- hoping that people actually show up for their appointments to view the apartment
- telling people that the neighborhood is really really quiet followed by feeling guilty for acting so smarmy
- sitting on hardwood floors reading a book while waiting for people to show up and tell me that my apartment is "too small" or that "the area is terrible" or that the landlords are "asking too much"
- fantasize about yelling at the landlords and telling them that they're making it virtually impossible for me to find a replacement tenant and then hopefully suing them or throwing a fit in their office or something because I hate this more than anything I have ever done in my life
- getting up early to show the apartment
- getting into work early to leave early to show the apartment
- going to class and hating it
- getting home from class really late and doing things around the apartment while detesting the class
- transferring into another class and going to it and liking it but not being entirely sure that I like it since I am in a zombie state
- not sleeping enough
- not sleeping well
- not eating enough
- not eating well
- not enjoying anything because all I can think about is renting my stupid apartment
- experiencing great anxiety about money
- supporting D in ordering a CD cabinet
- spending too much money on awesome modular shelves from DWR
- wishing I had more money
- wishing I had more job security
- wishing I had more time time time and then also more time
- wishing I had a minute to myself
- daydreaming about not having to deal with this apartment situation
- daydreaming about pictures hung on the walls
- daydreaming about air conditioners already installed
- daydreaming about cabinets and shelves already delivered
- daydreaming about being settled
- daydreaming about a functional stove
Life is so very boring right now. I want desperately to enjoy living with D, but I have barely been in the apartment since we moved. And when I am, I'm irritable and short and not wanting to paint or unpack or organize or whatever. I do these things because they mean a lot to D, but man, I just want to watch a movie or read a book or something.
We are supposed to go to a comedy show with D's friends tonight but little does he know that I am not going. If I have to interact with people after showing my apartment to like 8 people (well, probably 3 of them will show up and I'll be sitting there on the floor for an hour and a half clinging to false hopes) I think I will kill someone. I need desperately to do laundry and file my nails (still distressed from moving tons of boxes) and stare at something and not be in transit.
I feel like I've walked three thousand miles this week.
Ugh. Last week there was lots of walking, lots of going back and forth between old and new apartment, up and down stairs, into and out of trucks, etc. Last weekend was walking to Home Depot and Bed, Bath and Beyond and the grocery store and back and forth between old and new apartments and carrying stuff all the time.
And this week:
Monday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to Joe's Pub from work, walked from Joe's Pub to D's old apartment, from D's old apartment to train, from train to new apartment. Home by 10:30 and curtain rod project.
Tuesday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to train, walked from train to class, walked from class to apartment. Home by 10:00 and sanding and painting and vacuuming and what else I can't even remember.
Wednesday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked to train, walked from train to old apartment, walked from old apartment to meet C for dinner, walked from dinner to apartment. Home, drunk, yes!, by 10:00 after eating the best gnocchi ever which happens to be on my new street! Woo. Then unpacking and cramming things into closets and rearranging closets and hampers and shoes and I don't know what else because I was drunk.
Thursday: Walked to train from apartment, walked to work from train, walked from work to and then through SoHo which involved walking for about an hour and a half staring at lovely furniture and bedding that we will never be able to have, walked back to work, walked to train, took train to class, walked to class, walked to apartment from class. Home by 10:00 and in good mood because class was better. Ate popcorn and made phone calls about old apartment and did nothing house related other than look online at potential shelving and cabinet schemes.
Friday: Walked to old apartment from new apartment, walked from old apartment to train, walked from train to work, walked around SoHo again for an hour, and will soon be taking train to old apartment where I will hang out for an hour and a half, then I will walk to CVS, then I will walk with bundles home, then I will walk to the laundromat and then and only then will I be sedentary.
And I'm not going anywhere because dammit I want to just be in the new apartment. I want to eat a meal there. I want to know what it's like to live there. I want D to come home to me instead of the other way around. Of course I will be asleep when he comes home but this is not the point! I feel a lot like I'm staying at his place because he's spent far more time there this week than I have.
Granted this is not how it will be always, but it will be like this until I unload that accursed apartment, and until then I will be there every night and morning.
Oh my god I am so boring.
I swear I will be less boring next week.
Have good weekends!
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Another Curb Incident Wherein I am Not Larry David
D and I went to Joe's Pub on Monday night to see this musical/cartoon Mark Mulcahey/Ben Katchor thing that was good despite possessing the uncanny ability to turn people into zombies despite their actual interest in the piece.
Joe's Pub is simultaneously an awesome but horrific place to see a show.
They have tables, which is good. You can sit and eat or drink.
They also have couches, which is even better.
They also try to seat as many people as possible at the tables and on the couches. They do this because there is a $12 minimum per person if you are seated at a table or on a couch. This leads to far too many people crowded into small spaces, brushing up against one another, making it impossible for anyone to get up during the show. This also leads to rather obnoxious people causing problems regarding a $12 minimum per person.
I started the evening off a bit edgy as I was exhausted from the move and move-related things on Monday. When we got there, the host claimed to have no record of D's table reservation. D was in a mild panic, as it was he who was very excited about this show. I knew nothing about it (other than Ben Katchor's being a contributor of New Yorker art, which made me predisposed to dislike his work even though I had no reason to dislike it) and was basically just tagging along to keep D company. That, and it was a musical, and I love me a musical.
The host said "Well, we have this table here..." and pointed us to an unreserved table in the corner. D, excited, said "Yes!"
I was like "NO! We are NOT SITTING THERE. It's BEHIND the screen!"
It was behind the screen, and the whole reason we were there was so D could see the cartoons.
"I mean, D, if you want to sit there, we can, but I don't think you're going to be able to see."
D was glad that I'd pointed this out, so we opted to sit on a couch farther back but with a better view of the screen.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom after we were situated, and returned to find this older lady sitting in my seat and D just sitting there oblivious. Her feet were on my bag. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
"Hey lady, move it."
"Lady, you're in my seat. Move."
"Look, lady, just because you read The New Yorker doesn't mean you can take my seat."
"Hey, boyfriend, could you please tell this lady to get out of my seat?"
"Hey, boyfriend, why didn't you tell this lady that I was sitting next to you?"
This woman was so very New Yorker. I hated her from the moment I saw her.
Luckily D said "Um, excuse me, my girlfriend was sitting there."
I smiled at her, but not sincerely.
She rolled her eyes and moved over so that I could sit down, but not enough so that there was actually room for me on the couch. When I sat down our legs were touching.
I edged closer to D so as not to have any more contact with this woman. She and her husband were clearly peeved, not happy to be there, etc.
When the waitress came to our area, she asked the couple what they wanted.
"Nothing," they said.
"Oh, well, you have to buy something. There's either a two drink minimum per person or $12 minimum."
"Oh, well, we don't want anything," they said, combative.
"It's our policy, I mean, you could buy like two bottles of water or maybe sodas? Or would you like a juice?"
"We are not buying anything."
"Well, it's the policy. It says on the ticket. They tell you when you buy your tickets."
"Nobody told us," they yelled.
"Well, I'm sorry, but it's the policy. You have to buy something if you want to sit at a table or on the couches."
"We're not going to," they said. "We didn't know, so we're not going to."
"Well, I'm really sorry, but you have to."
"No, we won't."
"Well, I'll go on to the back and get the manager, then, and he'll come out and talk to you."
Poor waitress. Lame New Yorker reading upper crust having-too-much-money complaining about $20 in drinks assholes.
Now.
First of all, I agree that the two drink minimum or the dollar minimum is ridiculous. If you've already paid for a ticket, why do you have to pay another $12 just to be there? It would be better if the tickets were just slightly more costly.
Second of all, it is indeed possible for someone not to have known about the minimum. This has happened to us all, and we're always annoyed when we find out that we have to buy drinks even though we're not thirsty.
But.
Where do these people get off thinking they're exempt from the rules?
Why do they just get to break the rules?
The waitress came back and said "Well, the manager said you don't have to buy anything this time, but just know that in the future there will be a two drink minimum."
Ahhh!
They got away with it.
And it's not even annoying that they got away with it. If they had been nice people who were taken aback by the minimum and apologetic for not knowing, fine.
But these people were mean. They made the waitress uncomofortable. They intimidated her into backing down. And the rest of us, a bunch of people who weren't hungry or thirsty, had to pay an extra $12 or more to see the same show.
These people could have just gotten up and stood, like the other people who didn't feel compelled to pay the two drink minimum, but no. They just decided to be jerks and be mean and be the squeakiest wheels and roll their eyes and sigh loudly and just be generally unpleasant.
Ugh.
I liked the show, though, even though I was irritable and falling asleep.
I swear I'll be in a better mood soon.
Joe's Pub is simultaneously an awesome but horrific place to see a show.
They have tables, which is good. You can sit and eat or drink.
They also have couches, which is even better.
They also try to seat as many people as possible at the tables and on the couches. They do this because there is a $12 minimum per person if you are seated at a table or on a couch. This leads to far too many people crowded into small spaces, brushing up against one another, making it impossible for anyone to get up during the show. This also leads to rather obnoxious people causing problems regarding a $12 minimum per person.
I started the evening off a bit edgy as I was exhausted from the move and move-related things on Monday. When we got there, the host claimed to have no record of D's table reservation. D was in a mild panic, as it was he who was very excited about this show. I knew nothing about it (other than Ben Katchor's being a contributor of New Yorker art, which made me predisposed to dislike his work even though I had no reason to dislike it) and was basically just tagging along to keep D company. That, and it was a musical, and I love me a musical.
The host said "Well, we have this table here..." and pointed us to an unreserved table in the corner. D, excited, said "Yes!"
I was like "NO! We are NOT SITTING THERE. It's BEHIND the screen!"
It was behind the screen, and the whole reason we were there was so D could see the cartoons.
"I mean, D, if you want to sit there, we can, but I don't think you're going to be able to see."
D was glad that I'd pointed this out, so we opted to sit on a couch farther back but with a better view of the screen.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom after we were situated, and returned to find this older lady sitting in my seat and D just sitting there oblivious. Her feet were on my bag. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
"Hey lady, move it."
"Lady, you're in my seat. Move."
"Look, lady, just because you read The New Yorker doesn't mean you can take my seat."
"Hey, boyfriend, could you please tell this lady to get out of my seat?"
"Hey, boyfriend, why didn't you tell this lady that I was sitting next to you?"
This woman was so very New Yorker. I hated her from the moment I saw her.
Luckily D said "Um, excuse me, my girlfriend was sitting there."
I smiled at her, but not sincerely.
She rolled her eyes and moved over so that I could sit down, but not enough so that there was actually room for me on the couch. When I sat down our legs were touching.
I edged closer to D so as not to have any more contact with this woman. She and her husband were clearly peeved, not happy to be there, etc.
When the waitress came to our area, she asked the couple what they wanted.
"Nothing," they said.
"Oh, well, you have to buy something. There's either a two drink minimum per person or $12 minimum."
"Oh, well, we don't want anything," they said, combative.
"It's our policy, I mean, you could buy like two bottles of water or maybe sodas? Or would you like a juice?"
"We are not buying anything."
"Well, it's the policy. It says on the ticket. They tell you when you buy your tickets."
"Nobody told us," they yelled.
"Well, I'm sorry, but it's the policy. You have to buy something if you want to sit at a table or on the couches."
"We're not going to," they said. "We didn't know, so we're not going to."
"Well, I'm really sorry, but you have to."
"No, we won't."
"Well, I'll go on to the back and get the manager, then, and he'll come out and talk to you."
Poor waitress. Lame New Yorker reading upper crust having-too-much-money complaining about $20 in drinks assholes.
Now.
First of all, I agree that the two drink minimum or the dollar minimum is ridiculous. If you've already paid for a ticket, why do you have to pay another $12 just to be there? It would be better if the tickets were just slightly more costly.
Second of all, it is indeed possible for someone not to have known about the minimum. This has happened to us all, and we're always annoyed when we find out that we have to buy drinks even though we're not thirsty.
But.
Where do these people get off thinking they're exempt from the rules?
Why do they just get to break the rules?
The waitress came back and said "Well, the manager said you don't have to buy anything this time, but just know that in the future there will be a two drink minimum."
Ahhh!
They got away with it.
And it's not even annoying that they got away with it. If they had been nice people who were taken aback by the minimum and apologetic for not knowing, fine.
But these people were mean. They made the waitress uncomofortable. They intimidated her into backing down. And the rest of us, a bunch of people who weren't hungry or thirsty, had to pay an extra $12 or more to see the same show.
These people could have just gotten up and stood, like the other people who didn't feel compelled to pay the two drink minimum, but no. They just decided to be jerks and be mean and be the squeakiest wheels and roll their eyes and sigh loudly and just be generally unpleasant.
Ugh.
I liked the show, though, even though I was irritable and falling asleep.
I swear I'll be in a better mood soon.
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