Interviewing

I just can't seem to convince myself that it isn't weird/bizarre/horribly inappropriate/terribly unprofessional to say the word "boobs" during a job interview, regardless of the context.

Is It the Alcohol or the Lack Of Humidity?

Ah, the weekend update. I never do these on Monday anymore.

The weekend was:

1. Being inspired by a photographer who was nice enough to share a drink with me and encourage me and beg me and say "please do, so I can be inspired if you move back."
2. Seeing people reconnect and wanting the best for them.
3. Free samples!
4. Cousins!
5. Too much to drink. Oh. But cosmos and watermelon martinis.
6. Regretting too much to drink.
7. Goat cheese omelette.
8. Overwhelmed again by Photo Expo.
9. Subscribing for the deal, not the magazine.
10. Lack of planning.
11. Lack of napping.
12. Talking to LBF.
13. Photo taking.
14. Eating Afghani food for the first time and falling in love.
15. Crazy waiter at Afghani restaurant sitting down and betting us a dessert vs. a cappucino for him if we could correctly guess the percentage of the human body that is water.
16. Same waiter asking us to determine what we would change about the world if we could change on thing. I said "Let women run the world!" Screw global warming!
17. Going to bed too early due to still being hung over from the night before.
18. Borat, matinee-style! Funniest. Movie. Ever.
19. Homemade mini muffins!
20. Eggs Sardou!
21. More photo taking.
22. Boredom? What!?!?
23. I Am a Sex Addict. Amazing movie.
24. Terrible conversation with D about "the future."
25. D finally admitting that he's been wrong about marriage and living together being the same thing.
26. Being sad that D finally admitted that marriage and living together are not the same thing.
27. Being horrified when saying out loud "Having a husband who will allow his children to eat candy for breakfast is a dealbreaker."
28. Being horrified at how terribly unromantic the whole thing is.
29. Being horrified that for some people love doesn't matter.
30. Crying instead of eating dinner and then having a peanut butter and banana and honey sandwich which somehow made the whole thing acceptable.

Too Much Sleep

I slept too much last night and had dreams that involved:

1. Myself as Marie Antoinette (curse you, New York Post, for being left in the lunch room open to a weird little article about Marie Antoinette!), being romantically entangled with Johnny Depp who was a member of the court who was going to try to kidnap me so I wouldn't have to continue my loveless relationship with Louis Whichever.

2. Shopping with a coworker who I would never shop with in real life at a store that sold only super balls and weirdly scented lotions, which was owned by an old witch/hag and a talking dolphin.

3. Having a photography job photographing old bridges, Bridges-of-Madison-County- style.

4. Singing in a variety show and being terribly unprepared. And so it begins...

Headlines

Oh my. am New York has a front page headline that says "Sa-damned."

I can't believe someone got paid to write that.

Wondering

I am wondering if $20 is too much to spend on a Phil Collins mousepad as a joke gift for a coworker. Is it? I think the funny is worth $20. But oh the things I could with $20. I just sold shelves via Craigslist last night for $20 and don't think that shelves are of the same worth as a Phil Collins mousepad.

I am also wondering if I am truly lame for having a favorite restaurant in the city that I go to all the time. There are no fewer than 18 zillion restaurants that I have yet to try yet I insist on eating the Latin Scramble for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and insist upon dragging out-of-town guests there. There's something to be said for being a regular. I know what's good (it's all good), I know what it will cost (cheap!), I know when to go to avoid crowds. I still, however, feel lame.

In addition, I am wondering why small free newspapers have to make news out of everything. For example, I read this morning that NYC is considering installing traffic lights that indicate to pedestrians how much time they have to walk across the street before they will be run down by a cab! Whoa! They have installed one in each of the five boroughs on a trial basis! That means that there are now five of them total in the entire city! How newsworthy! I am wondering, though, is it someone's job to stand there to see if pedestrians prefer the countdown to guessing and freaking out and nearly dying every time they cross the street? Is there someone standing on each side of the intersection with a survey asking pedestrians to rate their level of perceived safety? Will they install more of them only if nobody gets killed at these intersections? How long will the trials last? And why is this a big deal? Aren't these everywhere else in the world? I don't know. I'm pretty sure they're going to work.

I am obsessing over Yahoo Beta. I don't know how I ever lived without its tabs.

I am busily appreciating The Boss today and knocked on his office door to tell him so. I don't know what possessed me. Sometimes I am overcome with affection and feel the need to tell people. I also compulsively feel the need to make sure that awesome people feel awesome about themselves.

I am very excited about Borat and Volver.

I am excited to have learned that Gap online has pants for short people. Yes, readers, I shop at the Gap. But only for pants! Because of desperation! I'm not proud of this, but a girl needs pants.

I have straight hair today because I got up early so that I could have straight hair.

It's the weekend and I have no idea what's going on because this weekend's visitor isn't mine. Hopefully pants and Photo Expo and one or two movies and many good meals that may or may not involve Latin Scrambles.

I feel like I'm waiting for something but I'm not really sure what it is.

And on that note... I think I want to start my weekend.

Have wonderful days off, folks.

Blogging The Way I Used To Blog

Oh kids, am I emo.

There is something inherently sad about one's Boyfriend saying "I borrowed such-and-such CD from Female Friend! Do you want to hear it?" when you yourself own the CD. It is mainly sad that one and one's Boyfriend don't share a dialogue about such things, and that one's boyfriend and his Female Friend apparently do, and that one and one's Boyfriend apparently have something in common and don't even realize it because one and one's Boyfriend don't talk to each other about what one another is doing. "I have that CD," you say. "Oh." "It sucks," you say, because it really does and because you want to discredit Female Friend, even though you really like Female Friend, and actually admire her ability to elicit a reaction from your Boyfriend when you yourself can't.

I am making a new blog. He doesn't care. He doesn't ask. He never wants to hear the songs or inquire as to their progress. He asked if he could contribute a painting and to which I vindictively responded with "no" because he's not allowed to be part of it unless he's part of it. "That's not what it's about," I said, because that's not what it's about and it's not like he knows because he doesn't care.

We're all having trouble right now. Relationships are hard when things are falling apart and you need other things to be perfect in order for them to be worth it. You need men to be perfect to tolerate men at times like these. You need to feel loved and doted upon and respected when you learn that the person who made you doesn't feel these things for you. You need to have feelings returned because so many of your feelings throughout life haven't been reciprocated.

Big things are happening tomorrow. I'm trying not to think about them. I'm trying not to think about anything. I'm trying to relax. I'm trying not to have feelings or opinions about anything. When you feel like this the highs are so ridiculously high and the lows so terribly low. I drank a lot and said things I didn't mean to say but am glad that I did. I gushed with affection for new people and said "I want you to be my friends! Really, I do!" and we all smiled. I lashed out about the CD and got a lashing in return. I wasn't being personal but he was. I made a mistake but he doesn't care. I don't want to talk about it because I felt so good two hours ago and want to hold onto that because those are the feelings I need right now.

Blah.

I can't believe blog has become a vocabulary. It's a noun and a verb.

I'm going to go to bed early because I have to go to work early tomorrow.

Awshummmmm.

I have a feeling the weekend is going to suck, because I'll be being dragged around and I really don't want to be with things such as they are right now.

Until tomorrow, my dear little Pringles.

I Feel Guilty

I encountered weirdness on the subway this afternoon en route to a doctor's appointment.

On the platform just after letting myself through the turnstile, this guy on the other side said "Please open the door!"

"What?"

"Please open the door! He lost his rye!"

"What? I'm sorry?"

"He! He lost his rye, see?"

"What? I'm sorry I can't understand..."

There was a second man standing motionless and confused in the tunrstile (one of the floor-to-ceiling ones that cannot be jumped).

Ah! He lost his ride.

I think what was happening was that the first guy wanted me to push open the emergency door so that the second guy could get onto the train.

But.

How do I know that the second guy really lost his ride? And what does that even mean? What if it was a scam and he was trying to get through without paying? I do not support turnstile jumpers. In fact, I always want to fight people who sneak onto the train. Who do these people think they are? Nobody gets to ride for free! Not that I would actually fight, because obviously I would be detroyed and $2 for the MTA just isn't worth it.

Second of all, how do you lose your ride? Like was he not fast enough? Did he push the turnstile the wrong way?

Third of all, is it my responsibility to determine who does and does not ride the train?

And finally, there was no way I was going to push open the emergency door because it said "EMERGENCY EXIT PUSH TO OPEN ALARM WILL SOUND."

Wonder Years Moment: I am still freaked out about rollerskating (even though I've been having recurring dreams about rollerskating since I moved to NYC - tangent - I had a dream the other night that I was stung on the toe by a really small jellyfish and had to miss a Madonna concert because of it and Madonna was pissed) because circa first grade on a rollerskating field trip of some sort I skated out of control into the emergency door and the alarm sounded and everyone looked at me and started laughing.

I didn't want to be the loser who opens the emergency door. I didn't want everyone to look at me when the alarm went off. I didn't want to be responsible for forcing all of the MTA patrons to hear an alarm for the duration of their platform-waiting. No way!

Plus, I'm sure its against some sort of rule to open an emergency door when there's not an emergency.

Now. If I was D, I'd have thought "This door is not alarmed. I've never heard an alarm sound. It's no big deal." People with baby carriages must go through that door all the time, right? Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I think further down on the platform is a non-alarmed door. I should have suggested that to the guy, but I didn't think of it at the time.

Regardless...

I didn't open the door.

And how guilty I felt and still feel!

Seriously. I couldn't face the guy. I felt like such a jerk.

The first guy was begging me on behalf of the second guy. I said "Look, I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you! It says there's an alarm!" I walked away.

Then again, if the first guy was friends with the second guy, why didn't he just go through and open the emergency door?

I am still feeling bad about it, which is why I am blogging about it. I feel like I was a mean New Yorker, not helping this guy out. Who am I to determine what is right and wrong? Why am I protecting myself when someone just lost their precious $2 ride? Or did he? How did he?

I just don't know.

Yes, The Whole World Is in 3D But Still....

We went to see Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D last night to celebrate Halloween.

I kept wondering if there's anything at all dangerous about having goosebumps for an hour straight.

Oh how I love that movie. It's brilliant. Everything about it is perfect, and inspiring, because as a musical it is one of the best.

Yes, I felt like a bit of a loser being one of the only people sans costume in the entire city, but whatever. There are other things going on!

Such as the fact that I feel like death today. I can't keep my eyes open. I have difficulty with the time change, and so this might just be like jet lag. Whatever it is, it sucks. I may leave work early today to nap and then nap some more.

Such as the fact that there is nothing I've wanted more in the world than a lemon donut for the past few days. I fear that a donut might kill me, but since I already feel like death, why not? I may just have to buy one! And also a chocolate chip cookie. Right.

Such as the fact that I am emo. I am mainly emo on behalf of others, but I am emo too because I am close to these things and I should have opinions, even if I try desperately not to have them, and not think about things. These things are real.

Such as the fact that I don't have a band, and all of a sudden I really need one. How is it that I know fewer people here than I did in Boston who are musically inclined?

Such as the fact that I am socially strected too thin.

Such as the fact that I am trying to set up the new blog.

Such as the fact that I still have finished my art project from the weekend.

OK. I should be working so I can leave early.

Until tomorrow...

Blog Address Change

OK. It's official. As of Friday you can find My Mundane Life In Song at:

theelusivepringle.blogspot.com

My Mundane Life In Song will still exist, but it will only be music, for the time being.

Breaking In Is Hard To Do

Here are some good and bad things about the weekend:

The Good:
1. Rather than steal my wallet, a kind man on the street tapped me on the shoulder to inform me that my bag was open.
2. The Puffy Chair. I want to be a Duplass.
3. Clean clothes... and sheets!
4. Finishing a song that I love and getting positive feedback.
5. Breaking in Fluevogs.
6. Rain not actually raining.
7. Gael Garcia Bernal in Babel.
8. The wedding and club scene in Babel.
9. Thinking about characters over a frittata.
10. Barbie photo shoot.
11. Dreaming about lunch with Clive Owen and Jude Law.
12. An extra hour of sleep.
13. An art project accomplished!
14. Wandering aimlessly.
15. Wandering aimlessly and ending up at a musical.
16. Spontaneity!
17. Crying as soon as Try To Remember began, and realizing that I wasn’t the only one.
18. The author is in the musical! Oh my!
19. Dinner with NR.
20. A phone call to keep me company walking across the island.
21. Very very very exciting email received.
22. Practicing because maybe, maybe, maybe this can happen.
23. My own reunion and something to the effect of “I realized how empty things were before I met you. I wish I met you sooner, but not really, because then we probably would have broken up.”
24. Catching up because three days somehow feel like eternity.
25. Discussing how it is weird how three days somehow feel like eternity.
26. Feeling truly loved.
27. Feeling hope.
28. Smiling and staying up too late and not caring at all.

Here are some not-wonderful things about the weekend:

1. No plain paper towels. Why must they all have cornucopias on them?
2. I saw a preview for a movie involving yet another Culkin. There seems to be an endless supply of them for the world to mess up.
3. People not following through with a Craigslist purchase.
4. The Gap sucking (even moreso than usual) and changing their sizes such that I can no longer fit into even the smallest pair of pants they sell. Where am I supposed to get pants? I’m not complaining about being small. I am aware that it is far worse to be tall – you cannot make clothes bigger and it is relatively easy to make them smaller. But I would like, for once, to just find clothes that fit.
5. Subsequent body image issues and near-tears.
6. Breaking in Fluevogs. Stairs are not easy.
7. Feeling a bit aimless.
8. Feeling a bit lonely and therefore feeling a bit like a loser.
9. Gael Garcia Bernal in The King. The movie was raw torture. Not his fault, I still love him.
10. Parting ways with the Barbie McDonald’s.
11. Missing M's phone call.
12. Dreaming about being cheated on.
13. Being desperate in dream about lunch with Clive Owen and Jude Law and wanting Jude Law to notice me and not knowing how to get him to notice me because for some inexplicable reason the awesome leg warmers I was wearing in the dream were ineffective.
14. Portion of art project on the floor.
15. Exciting email causing induction of immediate ulcer and reevaluating of life.
16. Weekend not being long enough.

My Very First Photo Shoot

I had my first opportunity to be part of a photo shoot this weekend.

The models were great to work with. They were professional, cooperative, and, well, blonde. Not the types of people one would expect to find eating at McDonald's, but I guess they stay so thin due to purging.

Here are some of the results:



Heh. Awesome. I had a lot of free time this weekend.

And now I am so craving french fries from McDonald's. Not that I will have them, because as a former employee of McD's I tend to trip out just walking into one of them.

Rename The Blog Contest

OK kids. I don't know if anyone is still reading, but in case you are, I thought I'd notify you that for reasons that haven't quite been ironed out, the blog may have to change its name soon. If you check My Mundane Life In Song in the near future and the blog seems bizarre, do not fret! It will have been relocated.

I'm thinking of calling it The Elusive Pringle.

Unless, of course, YOU dear reader, have a better idea! I'm open to suggestions.

So unless you hear otherwise, the new blog will be found at theelusivepringle.blogspot.com if My Mundane Life In Song becomes different.

Don't Fear A Sandwich

Date: August-ish, 2006
Genre: Musical theater, as if there's anything else these days!




Description:

Readers of My Mundane Life In Song may remember the infamous Sandwich Swap, which was not attended by yours truly due to some skepticism/cynicism on the part of visitors I had the weekend on which it took place. The entry sparked a debate regarding whether the sandwich swap was a sketchy endeavor or not.

Because I still assert that the sandwich swap would have appealed to and therefore only have been attended by nice New Yorkers and not the evil ones, I wrote a song about how there are far worse things in the world than strangers making you sandwiches.

I started writing this at a time when I was watching a lot of musicals, so its straight out of the musical of my life (My Mundane Life In Song in full effect!), complete with chorus girls who are convinced to change their minds by the end of the song.

I also used the new keyboard and am getting used to the sounds, so I didn't make all the right choices but dear god I've been sitting on this song since August and its about time I posted it. I wrote it one day in August, recorded piano and vocals the following day, and then added strings and other weird songs last night during a burst of alone-induced-productivity. And I'm not working on it ever again, because I love this song enough to make it perfect, which will never happen. There is not time.

So... enjoy!

Lyrics:

I hate everyone
And I don't trust anyone
In the city, they're all out to get me

Any New Yorker in a car would run you over in the crosswalk
Even when the little blinking guy is telling you it's safe to walk across

Still I trust strangers bearing sandwiches
Try as hard as you might to convince me otherwise
That someone who respects the awesomest lunch food known to man
Could have evil motives
Not a sandwich lover!

Any waiter you tip could be spitting on your potatoes
And even Mr. Softee could be lying about the cost of your ice cream cone

Still I trust strangers bearing sandwiches
(She trusts strangers)
Try as hard as you might to convince me otherwise
(She can't be convinced)
That someone who respects the best thing that ever happened to bread
Could be capable of evil
(They're evil)

Nobody who knows about the sandwich swap in Park Slope is the type of person who would pee on lettuce
Hipsters prefer irony to the vulgar
The only risk I see is that nobody will trade their sandwich with me
Cuz I never liked Bloc Party
(Overrated)

Every time you use your credit card identity theft might not be far off
And when you're on the subway people won't hesitate to run down the pregnant lady to steal her seat

Wallets are stolen
The cabbies drive too fast
People are groped
And the dry cleaner's a bastard
The airlines are assholes
This whole country is fucked
I saw a crazy man taking a dump on my street
Everything's scary
And really messed up
So I'll take my chances, I'll press my luck
With a sandwich
A nice stranger's making me a sandwich
Don't fear the sandwich
Don't fear a sandwich

I trust strangers bearing sandwiches
(We trust strangers)
Try as hard as you might to convince us otherwise
That someone who respects the awesomest lunch food known to man could have evil motives
No, not a sandwich lover!

Trust strangers bearing sandwiches
Trust strangers bearing sandwiches
Trust strangers bearing sandwiches

On Track

The last couple of weeks have been catch up weeks - catching up on household projects, getting organized, making lists of projects that need to be done, phone calls that must be returned, etc.

The last couple of weeks have also been heinous at work. Too much work, too much stress surrounding the work, but acceptable because the result was a thumbs up (thumbs up!) from the big guy, a handshake from The Boss, and a weird insult/compliment to the effect of "This is an instance of where your being so anal has really helped us... nobody else at this entire company could have done as good a job." Right.

The last couple of weeks have also been social. I'm settling back into my old life, and it makes me feel like I don't want to leave. There's so much to do, so much to see, so many conversations to have.

This week was busy. I spent Monday night staring catatonically at the TV. D said "You must be really bored." "Au contraire..." I said. "There are a million things I could be doing right now, but note! I am choosing to sit here and watch Friends reruns. Do not judge me!"

I was a bit fried from the weekend. I didn't do much, but I emerged from the weekend emotionally drained. I stayed in on Friday night. I finally returned JQ's phone call and waited for half an hour before I dropped the bomb and killed the conversation. D and I tried a new recipe that was an abysmal failure. Mid-recipe Father called (I didn't know what to do - why was he calling? was I happy he was calling? was I mortified?), and my heart was torn to shreds and then reassembled by my assertiveness. We tried to watch Godfather 3 to get my mind off of things, but the movie just sucks. Hard. Sophia Coppola = gross. We started watching The Happiness of the Katakuri's (a Japanese murder-mystery-musical) and fell asleep in the middle of it.

We woke up early to see Marie Antionette, which I was being dragged to as a dutiful girlfriend. For some reason incomprehensible to me, D has a crush on Kirsten Dunst. Kirsten Dunst = also gross. The movie = also gross! Oh my. One of the worst I've ever seen, and not even because of Kirsten Dunst. The only good thing about it was Steve Coogan, who I heart. D even hated it, and he loves everything. He was mortified by the wastefulness. It was a very anti-Sophia weekend.

We met up with Brother and BB at Penn Station, and headed downtown to a gallery. We went to more galleries. We shopped. We ate pizza and then more pizza with marshmallows and chocolate on it. We shopped. D and Brother enabled me to buy Fluevogs. We spent yet another weekend evening in and watched Lady Vengeance and then finished watching The Happiness of the Katakuri's, which turned out to be one of the best movies of all time.

We woke up early on Sunday morning to see the matinee of The Prestige, which was amazing. You must all run out and see it immediately! This minute! Oh! It was a life-changing movie. And OH, Christian Bale! Oh my. Really. Even with a fake beard. And Hugh Jackman can act. I'm getting all excited just thinking about the movie. The rest of the day was spent playing with the new external hard drive and burning CDs and backing up songs and cleaning and talking to NL finally and talking to Mother for hours during which I was honest and protecting and somehow managed to feel functional afterwards. We didn't watch TV and read instead.

Monday was the vegetating and then D, after I'd brushed my teeth and emerged to say goodnight to him, saying "Hey - should we talk about the vacation now?" "Ok?" and then talking and no progress and then D putting the laptop on me saying "Let's look some things up..." and then walking away and me saying "Can I please go to sleep?" an hour later and him being annoyed and all "You have to ask me to go to sleep?" and I said "No, I mean 'do you mind if I stop doing this?'" and my going to sleep way later than I'd meant to.

Tuesday was booking the trip! A resort in Cancun! No planning involved! A deal on the internet! A jacuzzi in the room! Yes! Of course now I have to shop for bathing suits. The Alaska plan was much better in that I own many many articles of clothing that obscure my body. But who cares? Cancun! WOO!!!!

We were late meeting MY at Grimaldi's for pizza because of the planning. We met there prior to checking out the hipster Hell House in DUMBO. For those of you who don't know, Hell Houses are these weird "haunted houses" set up by Evangelical Christians to freak kids out and to hopefully make them more religious. So rather than ghosts and zombies, there are scenes of abortions and suicides and gay weddings. I didn't know how I'd feel - I felt a little guilty, actually. I could go on and on about this for hours. It was an interesting experience, and I'll blog about it later. We went out for drinks afterwards at Superfine, which is awesome because it had giant (I mean GIANT) spiders all over the walls for Halloween.

I had lunch in the East Village with PW on Wednesday. I found the jackpot block for vegetarian dining as PW was a bit late. Sweet! Whole wheat goat cheese ravioli in a sage cream sauce with pieces of butternut squash. Deliciously fall. We caught up and squealed about work crushes and vented about families. I was having one of those nights where I was super excited about seeing D, and therefore nearly ran home. We had an actual conversation and then began watching American Dreamz, which turned out to be strangely entertaining.

I worked too late last night and was late meeting friends for falafel, so we ended up having amazing Thai instead in between. Afterwards we went to TM's show which wasn't as bad as he'd threatened, and D and I finished watching American Dreamz which was actually quite entertaining, mainly due to Willem Dafoe's portrayal of the Dick Cheney-esque character.

Tonight I am going to go home. And do nothing! No, not true. I am not capable of doing nothing! I am going to go to CVS, and then to the Amish market, and then home where I will do laundry (it is an emergency) and sweep and dust and watch a DVD and hopefully work on a song that's been lingering for over two months. I will finish it this weekend. I will also do one photography project that I've been procrastinating and will hopefully start the second one. I will also watch Babel with ER and hopefully dine with SK and MF. And hopefully I'll get to see NR for a bit, because she is emo and I am worried, because it is NYC and we all have those sorts of moods, especially when things are preventing us from enjoying the city. D is away this weekend, so I will spread out in the bed and get tons of sleep and not forget Daylight Savings and be absurdly productive and listen to classical music and make phone calls and be self-absorbed and exit the weekend feeling good about myself. I will be rejuvenated! I will be prepared for Halloween next week and 3D Nightmare Before Christmas.

Yes.

And now... CVS. Yay paper towels!

Boys Are Insane

One of my very best friends just had her first baby!

Needless to say I am overjoyed, bouncing off the walls with excitement, wanting to know all of the details.

I whispered to D "M had the baby!"

"Oh!" he said.

And then he started talking to someone else.

Boys are insane.

I guess men just don't care about gender or names or sizes.

I'll let you know if he ever asks.

How Much Do You Want For This?

How am I supposed to know?

I braved the downpour last night to display a fraction of my childhood possessions to some judges at a vintage toy store.

Guy 1, behind the counter, was encouraging and enthusiastic.

Guy 2 - not all there, in a clinical sense, but very Star Wars enthusiastic.

Guy 3 was the messenger, the man designated to go through my nostalgia and determine what is and is not worth the time of The Owner.

He took out a tray, cleaned it off, and said "Now I will go through your stuff."

While this was happening, Guy 1 said "What do you want for those?" I ended up selling the stained tauntaun, discolored white abominable snowman guy who slays the tauntaun, and the big green lizard thing from Star Wars that appears for like two seconds in the film to him for a total of $15. I was thrilled, as he was buying them for his 5 year old son who, for some wonderful reason, adores the old toys. My heart was warmed.

Meanwhile Guy 3 picked through my toys, separating them on a basis unbeknownst to me.

"How much do you want for these?"

"I don't know... how much should I want?"

"I can't tell you. You tell me how much you want and then I tell you whether or not we can do it."

Dear god. How am I supposed to know? $1 a figure? $2? More for the pins? What about the Micro Machines playsets?

I had no idea. What's best in a situation like this? Lowball so its a sure sell or highball on the off chance that they'll give you a ridiculous amount of money?

No. Clue.

While I considered my options, they kept saying "Do you really want to sell these?" "Why are you selling these?" "Isn't it killing you to get rid of these?" "I have no choice!" I kept saying. I have no choice. Choice with regard to certain matters in my life has been removed. Thank you, Parents, for making things even more difficult than they need to be.

I deliberated. I agonized, trying to put a price on my childhood. I looked at the infinite collection of vintage toys they were selling, trying to get an idea of what the mark up would be, what things were worth.

"These are GI Joe guns," said Guy 3, judgmental.

I made something up. I was firm.

He said "So you want $101 for all of this?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess."

Right. I wanted $101. That's what my Star Wars collection was worth. "Hey, let's just say $100," I said, sarcastically generous.

He said "There's no way he'll give you that. Look, we don't want these (he separated out figures that they had many of and that were missing capes and weapons and helmets)... that will bring it down to $89. How about that?" I nodded.

He excused himself to call The Owner. I heard him saying things like "She Ra's but the hair isn't as mint as the ones that came in last week... The Garbage Pail Kids might be first edition... the pins are in perfect condition... Jabba... complete Vader... no helmets..."

In the meantime, Guy 1 bought a Micro Machines C-3PO/Cantina playset and the Max Rebo Band for $10. Guy 2 bought a Micro Machines R2-D2/Jabba's Palace playset and a commemorative coin.

Guy 3 returned and said "He'll give you $40 for all of it or $20 for Jabba and the Ewoks."

No!

Again I deliberated, in agony. $40 for everything? For 40 action figures and 8 She Ra's and 7 pins and the coins and the loose Micro Machines and the Micro Machines and the Garbage Pail Kids?

I kept asking them what they thought I should do.

They kept saying "We really can't tell you."

I was tempted. $40 to just be finished. $40 to not have to deal with Ebay, at least for these toys. $40 to a store that would turn around and sell them for triple that, at least.

I couldn't decide. I went back and forth.

I decided to take the $20 and just take everything back home with me, where it will sit for eternity not being sold on Ebay.

Guy 3 said "I think you made the right decision. Now. How much can I buy a She Ra for?"

Sweet.

Normal Blogging Resumes...

... for the time being.

I've been trying to be very dismissive of work at work, to "work" in the way that everyone else "works," which is not to drive themselves mad. It worked for a few days, and I thought (hoped!) that it would continue through this week. I planned a light week, with little stress, full of errands and side projects but alas! No! Of course not! A meeting at 4:45! More work discussed! For tomorrow! Or else!

I am supposed to be working now but my brain hurts. Oh how it hurts. I can't wait for the call from MF for dinner, which for me will be more liquid than solid.

Nevertheless...

I am feeling more sane these days. Last weekend was revelatory. I harnessed anger instead of sadness and felt mostly functional by the middle of last week. I know these things take time, but I am impatient by nature and also far too self aware. I put pressure on myself to solve my own problems quickly, but I think something like this takes a long time to process and I have to allow myself to do that in whatever way possible. I have to do whatever it takes, and if anger is what it takes, then so be it.

Hence was I functional enough to go out every night last week (thank you, rage, for making me not want to be sedentary), even though my cold was raging and I needed sleep and also more sleep.

I had diner food with PW on Tuesday night. I asked for asparagus in the scrambled eggs and they somehow managed to strip the asparagus of all its wonderful asparagine (heh) properties. I didn't mind, though, as the conversation rendered the cuisine unimportant.

On Wednesday I met D's friend A from Arizona, and her crazy friend D from NYC whose apartment has bed bugs. I loved them both, and cringed only when A said "So I've heard nothing about you so tell me about you!!" which isn't her fault, but oh. How can anyone be dating someone for two years and tell good friends nothing? She said "Well, I've heard that one thing," she said and glanced slyly at D. What? What one thing? How am I not supposed to ask "What one thing?" I am a girl and must know such things! Did she hear the thing about how I was annoyed that he ignored my emails? Does she think I'm insane? Is she angry with me for wanting D to tell me about his days? I repressed all girl-like tendencies and somehow managed not to ask. I wanted to counter with "Well, I've heard nothing about you either," again incriminating D who hadn't mentioned her before and then said "You have to meet my friend A! She's such a good friend!" I had originally deemed her visit unimportant since he'd never mentioned her, but then thought better of it and realized that I can't tell who is and is not important to D since he doesn't ever talk about the people in his life. I was glad that I decided to do the right thing and meet her despite my being sick because she rocks. Hard.

On Thursday CJ arrived with flowers in hand. I haven't seen him since I moved to NYC as he'd been banned from the country until recently. I told him everything, got over it quickly and we went to the roof where we talked relationships and NYC. We ate, drank, returned to the apartment, played with Star Wars figures, and went to bed. Early. Because I was still sick. Sick (drunk?) enough to incorrectly inflate the air mattress which of course deflated and left CJ's elbow on the hard wood floor. Me = worst hostess ever. Well, worst drunken/deliriously ill hostess ever.

Friday was my first ever massage, a gift from D! Yes! I nearly cried when he told me about it. He told me on Tuesday and I was counting down all week. I realized during the massage that I am incapable of relaxing my body and mind. My body felt tense. I had to concentrate on being relaxed. I had to concentrate on not thinking. I had to concentrate on not hearing the sounds of the city outside. I found myself thinking about trees covered in snow. About half an hour through it I was jelly, and was mortified when my hour was up. Euphoric, I called NR and couldn't muster up the energy to plan a location for dinner, so we decided to cancel. I walked the 30 blocks home in the cold because my senses were alive, my stress was low, and I didn't want to ruin my calm state by dealing with the subway.

At home I had a lame dinner, and started to watch Road to Perdition with D but we both fell asleep by 10:15. Bliss. We are lame, and do we care? No! Because we no longer have to impress anyone.

On Saturday morning D and I decided to deconstruct our entire apartment in order to Get Rid of Stuff. Everyone is constantly telling us that we have no stuff, but we are both bothered by how much stuff we have. I think what inspired us most was The Parents' having kept everything for 30 years. Not that we have accumulated much, but there's always room for improvement. I threw away VHS tapes (yes, I did it!) and my Jem wig. We shuffled drawers around and re-organized the closets. Mid-process I left to have lunch with SK, who I haven't seen in way too long. We caught up and were girlie and happy and making lavish plans for our New York selves. Back at the apartment I threw away old bills and MA tax booklets from 1999. I began photographing all the nostalgia I want to get rid of and was surprised when CJ popped in. I was even more surprised when he gave me $60 for four Star Wars commemorative plates. Yes! I took more photos and did more reorganizing when D returned. I even convinced D to utilize the vast space beneath our bed for storage purposes. We tried to finish Road to Perdition but the DVD was scratched. I posted items on Craigslist and some collector websites, read Wired and was asleep by midnight. That's two weekend nights in, folks.

Yesterday I woke up early and took more photos of things to sell. I posted more ads. I scrambled eggs with shallots and felt healthier. D and I headed to the East Village, where we searched for Halloween costumes and met up with NR. I had a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich for a snack. The three of us then met up with MY and saw The Departed, which was doubly awesome because (a) it was a really good movie (more Tarantino than Scorsese, if you ask me) and (b) Frank Mallicoat was in it. FRANK MALLICOAT from the evening news in Boston! I love Leo. I admit it. It's taken me many years to admit but I admit it. He's a good actor. And hot. He can't not be. He does not age. He's brilliant always. Matt Damon was the ultimate weasle. Run out. See it. UMass represents in it. As does the Dedham Mall. And Somerville! We went out for dinner and rehashed what confused us about the movie. Back at the apartment, I finished up my photography project (goals for the weekend exceeded - all that remains now are the books! woop!), and was asleep, again, by 11:00.

It was the perfect weekend. Relaxed yet ridiculously productive, solitary at times but also social, movie watched, Halloween costume thought of and portion of Halloween costume acquired, emotions mostly ignored (other than anger and how dare they keep calling me about these things?), new project conceived. The only downside was that I still haven't returned phone calls to NL or JQ, and I want to call AS and RR but there is no time and the time difference makes it even more difficult. But I will... I feel things calming down, I feel myself calming down. I am digging the calm to the extent that I declared "I don't think we should go to the Galapagos and Machu Pichu and Easter Island... while that would be the best thing ever, I think it might be a little nuts for us to try to do three different trips in two weeks... many flights... possible stress... what about going to a spa resort instead?" Massages every day! Jacuzzi in the room! Possibly wilderness or ocean outside our door! I think relaxing is in order, and I am nearly certain D will consent.

Heh. Me at a spa. Hilarious, but I think it is the right thing for right now.

Until the next time that I have a spare moment at work....

And Now For the Things I Couldn't Part With...

My whole life fit in here.



Old records and books on records (Barbie! Strawberry Shortcake! Etc.!).



She-Ra, Princess of Power. I am going to try to sell these on Ebay.



Etch-a-Sketch and his brother Skedoodle. They both still work.



Pile o' Barbies for future art project. Woo hoo!



Oh man, I could not throw away the Sesame Street house. Never!!!!



These are a mere fraction of the salvaged My Little Ponies.



Nobody could ever throw these away.



Charmkins!!?!??!?! Yes!



Strawberry Shortcakes galore!!! And yes, they still smell good.



The Strawberry Shortcake shoes blissed and tripped me out.



And you can't forget the pets. Cutest. Things. Ever.



And then there are the miniature ones. Awesome.



Did anyone else play with Busy Bears? I was nuts about these. Most likely because they are small, and I am nuts about little things.



I was insane and collected (and personified) erasers. I did not throw them away.



Dear god, my charm necklace (color coordinated, of course)!



Care Bears. The stuffed ones did not fare so well in the attic.



Dolly Pops, old school.



These are not even all of the smurfs.



And finally, the sticker books.



That's all for now, but there's more where these came from. Stay tuned.

Trashed Nostalgia

The My Little Pony stable didn't make the cut.



Scooter didn't survive time very well.



Stuffed fruit people - no idea what these are, who they belonged to, but I remember having mad affection for them. And where are they? At the dump!



Remnants of the "Berry Bake Shoppe," and a stray Jem doll that was in the house. I threw the rest of them out in the yard for dump transport.



The games? All gone!



We wanted to keep the Lite Brite but the cord was moldy. Devastation.



Good bye, Ewok Village.



Au revoir, Castle Grey Skull.



Oh how we loved this camping set. And now its gone!



Fisher Price cash register? Hours of fun.



Jem's guitar. Gone.



About 1/20 of what we tossed this past weekend. Please note Jem's apartment, en route to the dump.



My Little Pony Castle and Millennium Falcon being throw away together.



See you on the other side, Ouija Board.



No, not the Jem stage! I just can't take it.



I didn't start taking pictures until we were virtually finished going through things. There just wasn't time. This barely represents the things we parted with.

The Dollhouse Was Spared...

... because The Grandparents and Great Aunt were sentimentally attached to it, possibly moreso than I am because they made it for me when I was born. They offered to keep it in their attic for the time being, only after looking at all of the small silverware and plates and chairs and toilet paper holders.

The weekend was bad in ways that I hadn't predicted. Aside from the trauma of having to sort through my entire life to determine what are and are not important reminders of things, aside from saying goodbye to the house I grew up in, aside from saying goodbye to a yard (and there will be no new yard), aside from saying goodbye to a neighborhood (and there will be no new neighborhood), aside from dealing with all of the other crap that's accompanying this, I had to throw away all of my old emails! All of them! I neurotically printed out every email I received as a freshman in college because email seemed, in its infancy, as valuable as letters. Drunk ones, funny ones, revelatory ones... remember freshman year and the deluge of self exploration? Oh, they were beautiful, and I tossed them all because there will never ever be a time when there will be time to read them.

I thought I would be sad. I wasn't. I was too focused on getting things done, saving things from certain death, doing things for other people. I didn't have time to be sad. I did, however, have plenty of time to be angry. The weekend was spent mainly marvelling at the way the situation is being handled by people who are supposed to nurturing, put together, and focused.

I seethed. I clenched my fists. I said what I thought, because if they get to say what they think then so do I. I talked back. I made declarations of my feelings and drank too much. I sang songs with Sister and was thankful to be there when she broke down. I haven't had my breakdown yet, or maybe I've already broken down and I'm on the angry upswing.

I was nostalgic, but not for the family, not for the house. I think I've revised my outlook on my childhood in the past few months and can't really look at it anymore. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about where I come from. I can't even contemplate the morally confused signals I must have received. It makes me want to vomit, so I don't think about it.

I thought instead about old friends, about the parties I used to have in the basement, about long lost crushes and people who I should have had crushes on but didn't. I wanted to run down to ESW's parents' house - are they still there? - and say "I wish I liked him back. I was an idiot. He was such a good person. I was a jerk! Is he happy? Can I call him? Please?"

And oh the toys. The Parents have kept every single thing they (we) ever had. Every. Single. Thing. Thirty years of nostalgia to sort through in two days. Poor Brother had it worst, but made the most light of it by staging a dramatic reading of his 7th grade diary.

We were, apparently, spoiled. Spoiled with toys. Spoiled by relatives. The extended family showered us with every possible collectible imagineable.

Childhood me wasn't much different from me now. While now I make lists, then I compulsively collected everything I came across. I apparently also took really good care of everything I came across, because everything was in remarkably good condition.

I think Father made seven trips to the dump in less than 24 hours. We had to toss nearly everything. There was no time to consider how much most things would go for on Ebay.

Mother allowed us each to have one (which I increased to two, because how can you put 30 years of things into one tupperware?) tupperware. I filled one with scrapbooks and a few drawings and old letters. The second was filled with the toys I saved, the ones with which I'm not yet ready to part.

I took back eight boxes of nostalgia to hopefully sell on Ebay or Craigslist. Those photos will be forthcoming.

For now, hoever, you can look at what was trashed and what I saved in the Toy Tupperware.

Enjoy!