The View

I went to the Met today and was reminded why I live in New York City.

Last night was an emotional drain and I needed some good hand-holding one-on-one time with the boyfriend. I was thrilled this morning when he declared "Look, today we should go to a museum of some sort. The Whitney or..." and then proceeded to list a million museums that are on the long list of museums-to-go-to that we will never have time to go to. He ended with "... or The Met." In a rare moment of assertiveness, I said "Look, I don't think I can look at another piece of contemporary art for at least two weeks. Let's go to The Met."

We looked at mummies and armor and a hilarious exhibit on photography and the occult and Van Gogh drawings and some Santiago Calatrava sculptures (and no, the exhibit did not feature his bridge from Buenos Aires) and smiled and ooh-ed and aah-ed and said things like "I knew you would like that because I know your taste now." I revelled in being able to look at skilled art that's good without being challenging. I liked Van Gogh's sketches of trees because that's all they were.

We ran to the roof, excited to see the Sol Lewitt sculptures but more excited to see our city.

"This is why I live here," I said as soon as I stepped into the freezing air up there and saw the view. I gasped. I looked at my favorite new building from above. D said "There's your building. It's a really good addition to the skyline."

I am feeling better about New York City today because today was easy and made us both happy. No amount of cockroaches that just walked past my alarm clock as I was about to set it for my nap that isn't going to happen can prevent my happiness! No getting dark earlier will interfere with my enjoying life! No! I will just think about mummies and everything will be fine.

And... here are some photos!

Syrup!

I have been hating New York lately, but sometimes I can't help but smile when I think about all of the bizarre things that have happened during my time living here.

Despite being sickly last evening, I decided to, against better judgment, accompany D to this contemporary art fair to which he'd been given two free tickets to an opening reception cocktail party. I have, dear readers, decided that I am contemporary-arted out. I'm just not an art person. I like art, but I am not obsessed and I don't get much out of looking at it constantly.

The art fair was cool, if, of course, you are rich, and can afford art. It's actually billed as an affordable art fair - prices range from $100 to $10,000, though the least expensive thing I saw was $1200. There were some cool pieces, and in my former life when I had money and was not in a constant financial panic, I'd probably have considered buying something.

I overheard a woman who said "I wish I had a bigger apartment so I could buy all of this stuff!" which struck me as odd, because if she could afford to buy all of this stuff to put in her small apartment, she can most likely afford a larger apartment. I feel like the appropriate thing to declare loudly was "I wish I had more money in general!"

Anyway... I wasn't drinking because I was sickly, and D tends to involute and not speak when we look at art, so I wasn't having the best time. Being sober when everyone else is drunk is never fun.

This was supposed to be our date night - out for dinner! Yeah! We never do this - we never make plans to go out together, so I'd been very excited before the sickness kicked in. D suggested we take a cab from the art fair to a restaurant. When we got in the cab, D said "Can we go to blah blah blah and take 9th Avenue, please."

The cab driver decided to ignore D and take a ridiculous route that was much congested with traffic. This meant lots of stop and go, which is not good when you are sick. About ten minutes into the ride, I yelled "Ummm, can we please get out?" because I was fairly certain that another minute of his insane driving would cause me to lose what little food I'd eaten that day. D said "Can you just drop us off here?" The cab driver kept going. "Can we just get out here? This will be fine..." Still he ignored us. I felt myself turning more and more green and was about to scream when D did. "Please, HERE!" he said and the cab driver was all "What? You want to get out?" and KEPT DRIVING!

Once we were out, we decided that he must have been deaf. CRAZY.

Anyway, we got in another cab and were dropped off in the vicinity of some restaurants we'd seen earlier in the week that we thought looked cool. It smelled really good outside. "Hmmm.... smells like cookies!" I said. D said it smelled like something else... I can't remember. "Or caramel!" I said.

We ate. Well, D ate and I had like three gnocchi and some water. When we left the restaurant, we walked for a few minutes and still it smelled delicious. "I guess what we were smelling was from over here!" D said as we walked a bit.

He then smiled and said "It smells everywhere. Maybe it's me!"

Heh.

Back at my apartment, I swore I could still smell it. "Maybe it's me," I thought, but said nothing while compulsively smelling my hands to see if it was something I'd touched that day.

This morning, I saw this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/28/nyregion/28odor.html

Upon reading more on the blogosphere, I have learned that everyone everywhere smelled maple syrup last night. People in Harlem! People in Brooklyn! People in Astoria! People in NJ!!!! I love being part of insane New York news.

This being said, this is a little weird. Apparently we are not to worry, but really, what could possibly cause everyone to smell maple syrup? I don't think a spill. It's a release of some sort - chemical? On purpose? Someone online suggested that maybe its a plot to determine the successfulness of a chemical release on the city. Or maybe it is a chemical release on the city.

NUTS, folks, nuts.

I just mentioned this to Bench Buddy and he was all "Oh my god, I thought it was me! It was driving me crazy! I hate things that smell sickly sweet!"

So yeah. Another crazy thing in NYC.

And now it is the weekend. Thank god. I am going to Princeton to visit my brother because I am in desperate need of some unconditional affection. And I will sleep lots, because I am still feeling weird.

Have good weekends.

Until Monday...

Christian Slater

I was home sick from work today.

This finally afforded me time to watch "Pump Up the Volume," which Netflix sent a few weeks ago.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I was much in love with Christian Slater back in the day. I think I saw "Gleaming the Cube" 4 million times. And, as I mentioned in a song, I unsuccessfully launched a search involving hundreds of people to find a very specific "Gleaming the Cube" poster.

Anyway, I never saw "Pump Up the Volume." I know what you're thinking - how could any self-respecting Christian Slater fan not have seen "Pump Up the Volume?"

The answer is: conservative parents.

I think I was nearly grounded for throwing a fit about not being allowed to see "Pump Up the Volume" because, dear readers, it was Rated R.

All of my girlfriends were going to see it and they didn't love him nearly as much as I did! I was livid. My parents were insane about things Rated R. "Not until you're 17," they would say, and I knew that even when I was 17 they would be distressed about my seeing boobs onscreen. When "Pump Up the Volume" came out, I too was conservative and too conservative to consider lying to my parents and sneaking into the movie.

So I never saw it until today!

And oh my god. I still love Christian Slater. Not Christian Slater now, but Christian Slater then. Dear god. I think I would have combusted if I'd seen it in 1990.

I am thinking that D has slightly Christian-Slater-like hair. Awwww yeah.

OK. This is boring because I am delirious. Hopefully I will be coherent tomorrow. Until then... Christian Slater. Yum.

Umbrella

What makes a good umbrella good?

Or, why is my umbrella the only one, in a sea of umbrellas, that inverts every three seconds!??!?!?!?

Conspiracy

The weekend is over and I am thrilled.

I had fun this weekend, but the plot also thickens.

Bad things that have happened recently:

1. No hot water in apartment.

2. No heat in apartment.

3. Cockroach infestation in apartment (traps are not working! will have to involve super; this is not only gross but makes me feel gross - I run a tight, clean ship in that apartment and I can't comprehend why these roaches are torturing me! D blames renovations in the building but I can't help but take it personally).

4. IPod battery in the process of dying.

5. Eye-piece protector on digital camera vanished and cannot be replaced unless I want to pay $150, which is freaking absurd.

6. Bird crapped all over fabulous pink coat. I was supposed to meet D at the 8th Avenue stop on the blue line to go to some galleries. We decided to meet underground as the weather looked ominous. I was at 34th Street, about to get on the train when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and she said "Ma'am, I don't know if anyone's told you this, but a bird shit all over your pink coat." Oh my god! Ma'am?!?! Oh my god... the PINK COAT! I quickly ran into the Tick Tock Diner, where I assessed the situation, which was bad bad bad. It was BROWN, all over my coat, and in three places! I ripped the coat off and went home. I had to make the snap decision that salvaging the coat was more important than meeting D on time. I don't have enough money to be replacing a coat, and I am too attached to that coat to just give up on it. I called D and left him a message, fully knowing he'd never get it since he was underground. I ran home, freezing since I didn't want to wear the coat. I cleaned it off with a combination of water, Tide, and hand soap, all the while throwing shit-filled paper towels into the toilet bowl.

7. Toilet bowl overflowed due to bird shit-filled paper towels.

8. As I was leaving the apartment, running, to meet D, I noticed that bird shit was also all over my pants. D was not underground when I got there. I figured he'd given up and just left after I was 45 minutes late. I decided, on a whim, to go outside to see if he'd left a message, and I ran into him as he was getting my messages. This was actually a good thing, because had I gone out any other exit I would have checked my messages, there wouldn't have been a message from him since he was literally in the process of checking his messages, and I'd have gone home, thinking he was mad. So this was a good thing.

9. Got caught in a rain storm on Saturday night while waiting in line for half an hour.

10. Watch stopped. Not because of battery - battery is new-ish, so I think watch is no longer for this world.

11. Credit card(s) didn't work at the movie ticket kiosk, which means that I'll probably have to contest the charges on all the cards because you know when machines tell you they don't work they are actually taking your money. Seven times.

12. Change explosion from bag due to mystery hole. So embarrassing. Still have no idea from where change fountain originated. Luckily E was there to pick up stray quarters and dimes and to prevent my having a total meltdown.

This being said, some good things this weekend:

1. New glasses - a big hit!

2. Winterized!!! Although - this should go in the first list - only have one of favorite pink mittens, which is suspicious given that I packed them to move. Why would I have packed only one? As of right now I have only a spring coat and fingerless gloves, which is not ideal given the weather.

3. PhotoPlus Expo (free!!!) at Javitz Center - shock to confidence but very exciting nonetheless, mainly because I got to indulge my desire to attend a conference at the Javitz Center and learned that the food court at the Javitz Center is extreme. It was overwhelming and stressful and since I don't have my own real camera yet, it was fairly pointless. I did, however, sign up for the ICP's mailing list.



4. Galleries - saw some lame stuff but also some good and/or freaky stuff and got to hold D's hand, which made me happy because I haven't seen that much of him lately. He tried to cheer me up about the Pink Coat Calamity, and I said "Dude, you have to just let me be upset about this for five minutes," and within five minutes of silence I was fine.

5. Pumpkins! And tango in Chelsea Market!!





6. Dinner party!!!

7. Demetri Martin!!! I got in trouble for taking this photo. I wasn't even using the flash (obviously). Demetri Martin is clearly and mostly influenced by Mitch Hedberg, so his show caused much happiness. I guess they're calling his brand of humor "observational." I'd never heard of him because I guess having heard of him requires a TV - he writes for Conan. He's doing a month-long residency at the Village Theater. I laughed so hard I almost passed out because I couldn't breathe correctly.



Here is a gratuitous photo of Jonathan Safran-Foer from Barnes and Noble last week. I meant to write lots about this last week but didn't get to upload the photos until last night.



There is a backlash against this boy and it troubles me. I have been thinking a lot about the backlash phenomenon as of late. If you thought something was good, why does what's happened since discolor what once pleased you? Everything is Illuminated is a good book. End of story. People liked it when it came out. Are people annoyed that he's successful? Are people annoyed by his demeanor? Even still, does this mean the book is bad? No.

It's like this with music too. VB said, as a possible conversation topic to deflect tension, "We could just talk about how much we all think Weezer sucks!" I said "I don't think Weezer sucks." Bench Buddy said "So I guess you're just ignoring the last two albums?" "Yes, I liked the first one." "But doesn't the recent crap ruin it for you?" "No, because the first album is good." We then discussed Death Cab for Cutie, and I was like "Look, yeah, they sold out, and that's weak, but that doesn't mean the first couple albums are now void. I loved them. I listened to them all the time. I still think they're good."

Same thing with Liz Phair. I don't know what is up with her right now and I am disappointed in and by her, but I still listen to the first three albums in heavy rotation.

Incidentally, Anne Patchett was there for the reading and said something about Jonathan Safran-Foer dating another author. Does anyone know who he's dating?

8. Saw Mirrormask.

9. Took pictures. It's been too long. Class has discouraged me. But I actually my homework this weekend (some of it, not all). This is "High Key #3."



10. Finally told D that I've been less-than-satisfied with NYC and he said all the right things, which surprised me in such a lovely way and made me happier.

So that's that.

The heat is on in the apartment (finally!), the coat has been dropped off for dry cleaning, I might go home to ease the homesickness and nostalgia and trick myself into thinking things are cozy because its fall - I will walk on rugs and sit near the fire and hear silence outside at 3am, I am looking forward to a party in my old house and to being able to be in someone else's house without feeling claustrophobic, I will become a person who doesn't need a watch and will just accept that my camera is unsightly, I will talk to my super tonight about roaches and will take a personal day when someone shows up to spray my apartment, I will make plans in NYC and will have things to look forward to and will pursue further education and then fabulous new business idea and change life and make loads of money and have job satisfaction and then I won't have to worry about money or the uncertain future.

Right.

OK!

With that, I should work. Mondays are so difficult.

Nano

While I find the new IPod Nano a bit gratuitous and a bit offensive (I don't know why - I'm probably just jealous because my IPod keeps misbehaving and I predict that I will soon be without IPod), I must admit that it is pretty damn cute.

What's even cuter, you ask?

A man's IPod Nano being held, protected, in a baby sock on the subway today.

I laughed out loud.

Bullies

I am thinking about:

- being socially bullied
- walking into preexisting situations
- people who use guilt to get what they want
- people who change depending on who they're around
- worrying about the feelings of people who I couldn't care less about, not because
I'm worried about their feelings, but because I'm worried about how their
feelings will affect my life

I am thinking that I miss a ton of people - sane, good, sweet, non-drama-welcoming people.

I Am Such a New Yorker

I was thinking about my blog the other day, and I thought "You know, I haven't had any wacky New York stories lately." I then wondered "Is that because things have gotten less wacky?" and then thought about it and decided "No, things are exactly the same as they've always been, it's just that I am used to them now."

I think I have become a New Yorker.

This thesis was confirmed last night after work.

I went to see the saddest movie of all time at the Film Forum. B said "Do you want to go see Mouchette? It will make us feel better about our lives."

I opted to go since I had nothing else planned and because I didn't particularly want to go directly home on such a beautiful night, even if my laundry was waiting to be picked up.

When we got there, B was shocked to find herself without cash at a cash-only theater. I told her I'd get her and that she could just pay me back. Film Forum has awesome popcorn, so we decided to split a small popcorn and each get our own drinks.

The popcorn and two drinks came out to $9.05.

I said "Hey, B, do you have a nickel?" I figured the least she could do was find a nickel for me since I was paying. I had a nickel, but didn't feel like rummaging through my belongings to find it.

She handed me a quarter.

Confused, I took it anyway, thankful for her contribution.

I handed the girl at the cash register $20.25.

She looked at me in horror.

"I don't want that from you."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need twenty-five cents from you."

"Oh really?" I said without missing a beat. "What makes you think I need ninety-five cents from you?"

"Ugh," she groaned.

I stared her down. I was in consumer-bitch mode. Who is she to tell me what I can and cannot use to pay for things?

Nothing was happening, so I found a nickel and gave it to her.

On our way into the theater I said "B, I really want to fight that girl. Who does she think she is? What is her problem? Why can't I pay for something with a quarter? What the f is wrong with people at The Film Forum? 'Oh, I work at a snotty independent movie theater that shows old depressing movies and therefore I get to tell everyone what to do.'"

(Note: I love The Film Forum. I just hate this girl).

Anyway, the point of this story is not to point out further evidence regarding how people who work at stores and theaters and dentist offices and restaurants in New York City suck beyond all comprehension, but to point out how I said something equally stupid and equally bitchy to someone who gave me attitude.

I never would have done that as a Bostonian.

This means that the transformation into New Yorker may be nearly complete!

When I got home after the movie, wanting to kill myself after enduring Mouchette, I was greeted by three cockroaches (one in the living room, one on the cabinet, and one in the sink) and the revelation that there was still no hot water in my apartment. I cursed at and killed the roaches - two grownups and a baby, ate dinner, gathered some clothes, said farewell to the mountain of dishes that couldn't be washed and the roaches that would begin their nightly orgy as soon as I shut the light, and headed back down to D's to take a much-needed shower.

Ah, New York. How I love it so!

Who Shot Who?

Oh. My. God.

It's just been announced that this year's holiday party will be at the Copacabana!!!

It is insane that we know this given that it is only October 19th.

It is also insane because this means that I will have to have Barry Manilow in my head for a very, very, very long time.

Any time anyone makes reference to the company party I will have to break out in both song and dance.

I am very excited about the holiday party this year because (a) it's at the Copa, Copacabana... which is (b) the hottest spot right around the corner from my apartment! It is also exciting because (c) we are allowed to bring dates this year! which doesn't apply to me directly, but will mean that there will be opportunities to meet the significant others of coworkers! weee! and (d) it's on a Friday, which means that people will actually come this year and that (e) we can stay out all night, either at the Copa or somewhere else, without ruining the following day's work like last year.

I went to the Copa's website and it's awesomely cheesy because they actually have Barry's "Copacabana" playing, midi-style.

Yes.

I can't wait.

PJ's

Am I alone in thinking that pajamas rule?

Is there nothing better than coming home from work on a chilly winter night and putting on your pajamas?

I had to defend the virtues of pajamas last night and it confused me, because I really don't think that pajamas warrant a debate.

Potato

It's a perfect day. I spent an hour walking around the city this afternoon - through SoHo and then Chinatown - to get lenses for my new glasses. It's gorgeous outside. It's supposed to be even more beautiful tomorrow.

While I was wandering around the city, I couldn't stop thinking about Cape Cod Potato Chips.

Weird. I haven't had those since, like, middle school. I couldn't find them anywhere. I nearly went insane.

I must have been craving salty.

It was a girl's birthday at work today, and someone sent her a giant chocolate chip cookie. You know the kind - it substitutes for a cake and has frosting. Yum.

As we inhaled the cookie, this guy from another department said "Does anyone here bake their own chocolate chip cookies?"

Nobody answered.

"Well, you know what makes them better? Adding 3x the amount of salt that is called for in the recipe."

Nobody responded.

I thought to myself "Oh my god... I bet that's his family's secret ingredient for the best chocolate chip cookies ever and he's just told all of us!"

And then "Wait - there's salt in chocolate chip cookies? What?"

Yeah. I've never baked chocolate chip cookies or cookies of any kind that weren't already in the form of a tube or sheet.

So now you all know - add 3x the amount of salt that is called for in your chocolate chip cookie recipe and you will be amazed! And you have My Mundane Life In Song to thank for it!

Let me know if you try it and if it makes them 3x as good.

Therapy

I am so ashamed.

Prior to my viewing of Capote this weekend, I saw a preview for a movie called Prime. It's written by the same guy who wrote Boiler Room, which I liked if only because of the hip hop-heavy soundtrack.

The movie stars Meryl Streep, who I irrationally resent because my freshman year boyfriend forced me to watch Bridges of Madison County because Meryl Streep was supposed to be Italian. This excited him greatly as he was, in reality, Italian, and was enamored with all things Italian, including, apparently, fake Italians. I hated every minute of it mainly because Meryl Streep annoyed me so very much (although I should mention that I caught a bit of it when I still had TV and cried like a baby - this is apparently one of those movies that actually gets better with age - I think I get it more now - as opposed to the sort of movie that gets worse with age such as The Black Cauldron, which I saw recently and which broke my heart as I loved it as a kid and now realize it sort of sucks).

Back to the lecture at hand...

The movie features Meryl Streep as a therapist. Uma Thurman is her patient. My guess is that Uma plays a divorcee who's getting back into the dating scene. Meryl Streep encourages her to pursue a fling with a man who is much younger than her (how much do we love that Uma is playing the older woman?) who, surprise!, turns out to be Meryl Streep's son.

Now.

I have three thoughts about this:

1. Best movie idea ever! Why didn't I think of this? and

2. Best movie idea ever. I can't believe this hasn't already been done! and

3. I can't believe I am excited about a cheesy romantic comedy starring Meryl Streep.

Seriously. This movie is going to suck so hard but the premise and the preview are so funny! Plus, it involves therapy! Awesome!

I also saw a preview last night before Serenity that is of interest... yes, folks, yet another Jake Gylenhaal movie to feel guilty about. In this one, our hero plays a soldier in Iraq. It sort of reminded me of Three Kings. Looks cool. I can't wait.

Speaking of which, this is cute:

Donald Rumsfeld is giving the president his daily briefing. He concludes by saying: "Yesterday, 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed."

"OH NO!" the president exclaims, "that's terrible!"

His staff sits stunned at this display of emotion, nervously watching as the president sits, head in hands.

Finally, the president looks up and asks, "How many is a brazillion?"

Heh. That made me laugh yesterday.

OK. I'm off to get lenses for yet another pair of new glasses.

Until tomorrow...

Maybe It's the Nose

When I saw The Boss this morning, he said "Leah Lar, I was flipping through the channels yesterday and 'Pretty Woman' was on, and you know? You look just like Julia Roberts!"

"No I don't," I said.

"No, you really do. You don't think so?"

"No, I really don't."

"Guys, don't you think she does?" he asked Bench Buddy and Newest Guy.

"Well, maybe if you had different hair..."

"Or were taller..."

"Really?" said Boss.

Finally we all said "Well, maybe. Yeah. Sort of!" so as not to hurt his feelings.

I am so very flattered, because as we all know I love Julia. I still wanted to fight him about it, because I obviously look nothing like Julia Roberts. Nothing! I couldn't look less like Julia Roberts. He's wrong, but he was so cute and pleased with himself that we all had to let it go.

This being said, I have a cousin who I think looks like Julia Roberts (nobody else thinks that she does), so I guess that there's a chance that I may look a bit like Julia Roberts. Maybe in the nose.

Or maybe not at all.

Women Are Organic, Men Are Robots

The weekend thus far....

1. a fatal hit and run involving a bus just outside my apartment

2. "Firefly" = awesome! thanks, Banalities

3. a friend being used

4. THE SUN!!!!

5. a sad breakup

6. an engagement of which I approve - I am the first to have seen the ring! yay!

7. hit on by not one but two waitresses?

8. a new friend

9. "we should do this more often." there are so many things i should do more often.

10. lack-of-cab epidemic still in full force. why aren't there any cabs lately?

i love blogging after rum. makes me feel like less of an old-ish lady.

talk to you on monday!

Faith

Sister came to visit this weekend.

After gorging ourselves at Kate's Joint on Sunday night, we headed to Williamsburg to engage in the long weekend ritual of Sid and Buddy Karaoke at Galapagos.

We vowed to get there early this time, so as to actually get to perform karaoke.

I went on early, committing a karoake faux pas by performing a song I've performed at Sid and Buddy in the past. Whatever. I was nervous.

Members of Sister's entourage performed intermittently.

And then... D! I was nervous for him. It's that phenomenon of being a stage mother - so excited that your loved one is on stage, but terrified that something terrible will happen. D makes up for in enthusiasm what he lacks in pitch.

Sid put on D's song, but it wasn't the right song! D said "This isn't the song."

Sid fumbled and, a minute later, put on the correct song. Except it was the wrong song again! The same wrong song. It was "I Saw Him Standing There," the Tiffany version. D later said "I wanted 'I Think We're Alone Now,' the Tiffany version. Where did he get that?" Someone had actually seen D right down "I Saw Him Standing There," but there was no arguing with him.

"That's not it!" he said from the stage.

"That's what you put," Sid said.

"No, it's not," D said.

Sid said "No, no, stay there..." as D began to leave the stage. "We're going to do karaoke roulette!"

What!?

"I'm going to pick a song and you have to do it."

Oh my god! Random-oke!!!

The crowd waited, tense, wondering what it would be. "Please let him know it, please let him know it, please let him know it..." I chanted in my head.

Oh. He knew it. I knew it. Everyone knew it.

I couldn't help myself. I jumped onto the stage, along with a member of Sister's entourage who helped himself to the inflatable guitar, and started moving my ass back and forth, as did D and Sister's friend, to the introduction of...

"Faith" by George Michael!

This was mostly a tribute to LBF, but man was it fun. I'd never have picked it for myself, but having it picked for me... delicious!

I think that there should be a karaoke that is entirely roulette.

Later that night, two insane guys got up there and tried to do "How Do U Want It" by 2Pac. I knew it was going to be a disaster. Sid stopped them a minute into it and said "You guys need to stop. We're doing roulette" and made them do The Beastie Boys instead.

It was awshummmmm.

Raincoat....

... or snowsuit?

We're pretty sure it was just snowing.

Madness.

2Pac

My Ipod is in rough shape, folks.

While it was still semi-functional yesterday, I was able to listen to but not choose songs. This was achieved by starting at the first song, and then scrolling through, one-at-a-time, in alphabetical order by artist until I happened upon something listenable.

It all started with 2Pac. I'd forgotten I'd even had 2Pac's Greatest Hits on my Ipod! I wasn't in the mood for hip hop prior to photography class, so I scrolled through to 311. 311!!!! Hah!

Then I encountered things like Aimee Mann and American Analog Set, and such hipster darlings that I no longer enjoy like The Arcade Fire and Architecture in Helsinki.

Most bizarre, though, is that apparently all classical musician's names begin with A! I had to scroll through all of Chopin's Preludes and Impromptus because they were performed by someone whose name begins with A. And then Vivaldi's violin concertos. And then the entirety of Prokofiev's Cinderalla.

The Ipod no longer functions at all. I am dying to go home to see if it will charge, but I am not going home tonight because I have been emotionally blackmailed into seeing a movie that I don't really want to see because some people are masters of guilt.

Damn you, guilt masters! You prevent me from going home on a rainy night when I haven't been home in ages! You prevent me from curling up under a blanket and watching a movie and eating in and saving money and charging my Ipod and doing my photography homework!

Yeah. The rain makes me completely insane.

Possessive

I am a person who is possessive about ideas.

Possessive may not be the right word. It might be that I am just shy about my own ideas. I don't want them out there. I only want them to be available to special people, and, in most cases, a special person.

I'm not possessive about everything. I obviously have a blog and put a million ideas out there into the world every day. Personal things, words, that sort of thing. I don't, however, put ideas for screenplays or photo projects or whatever out there, because I may actually do them and I'd rather just have them be finished when people find out about them. Like the blog... I told people "Yeah, I'm doing this thing" and was then excited when I started it and all of the songs were there, complete. It ruled.

I didn't realize that I was possessive about ideas until I found myself with someone who felt compelled to broadcast my ideas to others. It is because he is proud and excited, and that's awesome. It makes me love him more, but I feel, though, that my ideas are mine, and that, if I would like others to know about them, I will choose to tell them and then do just that.

This causes tension. I don't know how to explain myself. I don't know how to explain this pet peeve without sounding like a paranoid loser.

I realized I had this pet peeve when we were standing around one day and he said "Hey, what do you think of this idea?" and started telling this random guy about this quick pillowtalk comment I'd made about how digital sheet music could be a cool thing. It was a conversation I didn't want to have. I didn't want to defend my idea. I hadn't thought it through enough to present it to the world. I wasn't ready. It was mine and it should be under my control.

The only time I said something to him about this was when he said, to a complete stranger, "Leah Lar has an awesome idea for a documentary!" and then started to tell her about it. "Tell her more about it!" he said to me. "No, really, I don't want to." "But it's awesome!" "Well, no, I'm not ready to talk about it." I didn't want to talk about it because this person is in the film industry. I didn't want to talk about it because it was none of her business. I didn't want to talk about it because it was an idea I'd had that I'd told only the person closest to me because that's what you do, right? It's part of intimacy. I don't go around telling everyone everything. I don't tell the same things to every person. You have different sorts of relationships with people.

Last night we were tipsy and listening to 80's music and pretending that we were in middle school. It was silly and wonderful. After we'd finished pretending, I said "You know what there should be? There should be a lip synch contest at work! What ever happened to lip synching? People were all over that in the 80's!" I went on and on about how it would work, and what the categories would be. I said "And it would be, like, you'd have to do it as a group! A boss and his/her employee. You and your boss would definitely win for best hair. And most elusive. And cutest."

"We used to do things like this all the time," he said, "when we were smaller."

"We should totally do it."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"We could do it in the conference room."

"No," I said. "We should wait until we move to the new facility. There's supposedly going to be an auditorium there. We could have it in there! It could be like our inaugural event!"

I wasn't even serious about it. It was something that seemed adorable at the time, but can you imagine? A lip synch contest at work?

I got an email from him this morning that said "I talked to NH about the lip synch contest. She said she's going to see what she can do."

Wtf?

First of all: My idea! If I want to pursue it, I'll pursue it.

Second of all: If the lip synch contest happens and is a success, everyone will think that it was NH's idea or, worse, his.

Third of all: Privacy!

I guess I'm just possessive of relationships and ideas and specificity.

If I want everyone to know about an idea I've had, I'll tell everyone. Things said within the confines of a relationship should not go beyond that.

Am I shy or insane?

I don't know.

My guess is that he would think me insane, which is why I can't say "Could you stop telling everyone about the things I say to you in private?"

It's also a throwback to the old days when my parents would force me to play piano in front of other people. It puts you on the spot. It's very uncomfortable. "Tell the nice people about your idea, honey!"

"If I wanted to tell them, I'd have told them, honey."

I blame the weather. The weather is making me insane!

Right. That's it.

Broke

I am having one of those days - the sort of day that convinces you that there's a conspiracy against you, or the sort that convinces you that you have super powers to destroy everything in your path!

It all started this morning when I tried to listen to my IPod, which, apparently, has broken again! This time it is without reason. I listened to it on Friday and it was fine, and today - the main button doesn't work, which means I can listen to music only if I want to listen to it in alphabetical order. I suspected something like this would happen, because I'd noticed this weekend that the time had reset itself.

Drat.

When I arrived at work, I tried to print out my experiments for the day and, of course, the printer didn't work.

I wrote everything out by hand and decided to just do my best.

Once I'd written out my experiment, I went to the -80 freezer to get my samples and, of course, it wouldn't open. This was due to a combination of the seal's being broken and there being an obscene accumulation of ice. I asked a stronger person for help. He was able to open it but not without his body flying across the room.

I finally had the experiment and the samples, but when I went to read the plate, of course, a glitch in the software prevented me from analyzing the data. Two hours later I figured out the problem.

Ridiculous.

I don't even want to know what's going to happen later.

I hate rainy Tuesdays that feel like Mondays.

Wall

I met my neighbor the other night!!!

I have been sharing walls with this man since May, and I'd seen him only once in passing.

I've fantastized about him - I've wondered what he does for a living, what hours he keeps, what he thinks about the sounds coming from my apartment. I've wondered if he purposefully avoids me because he hates me due to my constantly listening to music or playing piano or talking loudly in my bedroom which, for all I know, could keep him up because maybe his bedroom is right alongside mine and he's trying to sleep at 9pm because he works a bizarre shift at his mystery job.

As I was leaving my apartment the other night at around 9pm to go to D's to watch the Netflix DVD that ultimately wouldn't play, I bumped right into him!

We stared at each other.

My first response was panic. I thought "Oh my god, he's going to KILL ME!" because obviously he hates me because I am loud and he has been working out his evil plan to kill me as soon as he found out who I was!!!

He stared at me, I stared at him, and finally, enthusiastically, he blurted out "DO YOU LIVE HERE?!"

"Yes?" I said, timid.

"OH MY GOD! FINALLY! WE'VE BEEN NEIGHBORS LIKE FOREVER AND I'VE BEEN DYING TO MEET YOU!!!!"

B is a 40-ish fellow who works in fashion. He is extremely excited about everything. He asked me what I did for a living. I said "I'm a scientist" and he said "I love that."

He unlocked his door, and I took a peak inside his apartment. D and I are constantly trying to figure out the layout of the apartment next to mine. Clearly it would have to be nothing like mine, but we couldn't decide if it was microscopic or huge.

I looked around him as he said "You know, I had a friends visiting from Rhode Island the other day and they kept saying how small my apartment is, but I just love living here! I mean, I have two bedrooms..."

"You have two bedrooms?" I asked. Eureeka! I only have one bedroom, how dare he have two?

"Well, they are small," he said, "And your apartment - I saw when they were renovated it. I would kill for your floors."

"They are quite fabulous," I said, trying to see into his apartment. I couldn't, because he has a very long hallway that cuts to the left so you can't see a damn thing from the doorway.

He said "Well, I work for Isaac Mizrahi," he said, "You must have heard of him."

"Oh yes," I said, unimpressed.

"It's been a pleasure living near you," he said. "I hope I don't make too much noise," he said.

"Oh, no, I never hear you. I wasn't even sure that anyone lived here!"

"Well, I'm usually quiet. I sometimes have friends over. Hopefully we're not too loud. The models, you know, it can be crazy."

"Models?"

"Yes, models."

"Oh. I'm taking a photography class. Maybe when we have to do portraits you can hook me up with some models."

"Well, there are some in here right now! Do you want to meet them?"

Models! Yes! I was in!

He invited me in, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I met my neighbor! I was going to get to see the mystery apartment! I was going to meet models!!!!

His apartment looks nothing like mine. At all. It's not renovated, and the layout is strange. His "bedrooms" are both microscopic. It is his living room that is behind my bedroom, and his bedroom is adjacent to mine. Which is weird, but whatever. Things I didn't need to know.

But best of all... his shower is in the kitchen!!!

He was apologetic about that. Not only is it in the kitchen, but it is elevated in the kitchen, so it just hangs there next to the stove! You have to climb a stool to get into it! Insane!

We gushed about our apartments and renovations and models, and I said that I had to get going. He wants to eat lunch or drink wine at some point.

I am just satisfied knowing what lies beyond my walls.

Thrilled, folks.

And with that, have a good loooooooong weekend!