Yes, I watched The Producers last night (well, I started watching it) and it was amazing. I have decided that were life in musical form, we'd be far happier as a society.
The potential of My Mundane Life In Song has yet to be realized.
Soon, soon, so soon will I have K's keyboard and then inspiration will be mine again!
An alternative, however, is to soon have Matthew Broderick following me around, failing to age, singing with complete earnesty while providing the soundtrack to my life.
I love the scene where he's at his accounting firm and the accountants are all singing "Unhappy..."
Speaking of which: does anyone know why accountants wore visors?
I am thinking I may want to buy a visor as part of my complete wardrobe overhaul in preparation for my trip to London/Valencia, which is next week. How did that happen? I am unprepared. I have no weather-appropriate clothing, nor have I done any research as to what I might like to do while being in Europe for the first time ever.
The good news is that I am prepared hair-wise, as the new haircut, which is still the talk of the lab (which makes me happy as today it is back to its crazy and unpredictable normalcy), has withstood the weekend and looks good in a ponytail, buns, and down with or without barrettes. Woo hoo! All praise the fancy haircut that would be worth whatever they normally charge were someone to have enough money to pay for a normally charged haircut.
I am having The Photography Gals over for dinner tonight. I am feeling a bit uptight about the during-the-week dinner party. I am trying new things, including a creamy pesto sauce which couldn't possibly be more difficult than normal pesto, right? I am throwing together a salad with mixed greens, goat cheese, honeyed pecans, and pear. I don't see how that could go wrong aside from the dressing, which will be a balsamic vinegar/honey concoction suggested by D's cousin. I had every intention to make homemade ricotta gnocchi as I have been in the mood for a pasta pyramid as of late and miss gnocchi (I miss those stupid overly starchy potatoes in general!), but didn't because it was 12,000 degrees and also because D's cousin was spontaneously in town and expensed a fancy dinner for us last night. We will also be having brie and grapes and crackers and breads and wines and then... cupcakes. Hopefully this will all take place on the roof but the weather is looking bleak.
I dreamt about the dinner party last night, and pasta that wouldn't boil and pesto that wouldn't heat and not having enough seating and there being a zillion flights of stairs to navigate in order for people to get onto the roof which turned not to be a roof at all but a scary attic that everyone loathed, and, most importantly, being extremely anxious about the dinner because Al Gore was invited and was going to show up late and I wanted everyone to be on their best behavior but people would not cooperate nor would they understand that it was very exciting for me that Al Gore was coming to my dinner party!
It's been so long since I've had a dream about Al Gore. The crush apparently persists. I want D and I to go to a taping of Saturday Night Live because why not? We were discussing which guest we'd be most excited about, and I was like "Dude, if we attend an Al Gore episode I am. going. to. DIE."
And now I must eat lunch, a big lunch, to tide me over until tonight when I will have people over for a late dinner that will be delicious. Right? It will be. It will be. Yes, it will be.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Friday, June 16, 2006
Perty
The talk of the lab today is my fabulous new haircut. I decided to go back to S, for whom I was a hair model ages ago at the fancy schmancy salon downstairs and who gave me the best haircut I've ever had.
S cut my hair way back when - maybe in January? I needed to have it cut a few months later (too long), and went to the Aveda Academy and hated the haircut. That's when D "fixed it," thus resulting in my having to grow it out for a few more months (torture) and get another haircut at the Aveda Academy, which I also hated, but I can't really blame anyone because they didn't really have anything to work with but 4 zillion different lengths of hair.
I grew that one out a bit, and went to see S this morning to get a haircut with style. We're talking bangs, folks, which she and her teacher called "fringe."
I came back to work (two and a half hours later, which was good given that last time she cut my hair it took three and a half hours) and everyone was very excited. Even the men!
JG is a kid who used to work in my department. He was sadly re-structured into another department but thankfully still works only three bays away. He's a true New Yorker - born and raised in the hood in Queens, complete with uncle who is his own age. Despite having gone to college at BC, he retains his Queens accent and sensibilities but for some reason digs Phil Collins. JG, who performed karaoke for the first time in honor of my birthday despite being scared to death, is awesome on many levels, but is my new favorite person on the planet.
He said "Did you do something different with your hair?"
"I just got a haircut at the fancy schmancy salon downstairs."
"Oh, it looks pretty."
Pretty!!!
Who says that anymore!?
I think I blushed. I didn't know what to say. I said "Awww... shucks..." and truly meant it.
Words like those make the days of 30 year olds with insecurities about their hairstyles and their fading looks. The beauty of this sort of thing is that people like JG don't even know that they're making people's days. They're just honest and cute and unafraid.
Happy, I am.
Pretty! Weeee!
S cut my hair way back when - maybe in January? I needed to have it cut a few months later (too long), and went to the Aveda Academy and hated the haircut. That's when D "fixed it," thus resulting in my having to grow it out for a few more months (torture) and get another haircut at the Aveda Academy, which I also hated, but I can't really blame anyone because they didn't really have anything to work with but 4 zillion different lengths of hair.
I grew that one out a bit, and went to see S this morning to get a haircut with style. We're talking bangs, folks, which she and her teacher called "fringe."
I came back to work (two and a half hours later, which was good given that last time she cut my hair it took three and a half hours) and everyone was very excited. Even the men!
JG is a kid who used to work in my department. He was sadly re-structured into another department but thankfully still works only three bays away. He's a true New Yorker - born and raised in the hood in Queens, complete with uncle who is his own age. Despite having gone to college at BC, he retains his Queens accent and sensibilities but for some reason digs Phil Collins. JG, who performed karaoke for the first time in honor of my birthday despite being scared to death, is awesome on many levels, but is my new favorite person on the planet.
He said "Did you do something different with your hair?"
"I just got a haircut at the fancy schmancy salon downstairs."
"Oh, it looks pretty."
Pretty!!!
Who says that anymore!?
I think I blushed. I didn't know what to say. I said "Awww... shucks..." and truly meant it.
Words like those make the days of 30 year olds with insecurities about their hairstyles and their fading looks. The beauty of this sort of thing is that people like JG don't even know that they're making people's days. They're just honest and cute and unafraid.
Happy, I am.
Pretty! Weeee!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I Think I Need A New Heart (For Real)
I couldn't sleep last night.
I experience phases of insomnia.
This isn't one of them. I couldn't sleep last night because we dined with D's cousins and her friends until midnight. I was a zombie by 11:00, and luckily D's astute cousin realized and was trying to extract for about half an hour before we made our escape.
I was still a zombie when we got home, and by the time my head hit the pillow at about 1:00 am I was, of course, wide awake, having missed my sleep window and also done myself a great injustice by eating post-10:00, which is something I try to avoid as I know I will not sleep.
Last night was particularly vexing as there was nothing I could do to combat the sleeplessness. Normally, when unable to sleep, I sneak out of the bedroom with pillow and alarm clock once D has fallen asleep, and watch TV or read until I pass out on the couch. This was not an option last night as D's cousin was sleeping on the couch. D was dead asleep as well, forcing me to sit with eyes wide open in the dark for an hour trying to figure out what to do.
I contemplated going for a walk, but I'm always afraid that will freak D out. I listened to my Learn Italian Podcast for a bit but have decided that I hate the guy and therefore was only more agitated.
Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to think of sweet, comforting, and relaxing things. My thoughts somehow turned to Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend last night and I thought about how adorable he used to be when I couldn't sleep, and how he was always available when I was sad or distressed or stressed. I could call him at any hour and he would appear and stay up with me. He would talk to me or just be there or try to distract me until I fell asleep. He also used to squeeze my head when I had headaches until it felt better, and he would do this for eternity if that's what it took to make me feel better. I wasn't ready for him. I was too young and too critical and I didn't appreciate these things and instead focused on the bad.
Of course there were bad things. Really bad things.
I then got to thinking about Most Hated Ex-Boyfriend, and thought of how he always knew just what to say and how he'd call when he knew I was down and how he could cheer me up with a nickname. He would sing a silly song. He'd make up alternate lyrics. He always knew exactly what to say without my having to tell him. He was my biggest fan. I've never had more self esteem in my life than when I was with him and it was at that time that I should have had none.
Of course there were bad things. Really really bad things.
I've been thinking about these two men a lot lately, and I'm not quite sure why. I think in a lot of ways I was spoiled by having men who knew me effortlessly and who adored and satisfied me without my having to make demands. I never had to ask with these men. I've never had to ask anyone until now.
I've experienced extremes. I've been lucky to have been felt the sweetness and devotion and caring of which men are capable, and have been cursed to have experienced the supreme depravity to which they can succomb.
D wants us to just forget past relationships. "None of that matters," he says. "It's us now, and that's all that matters, right?"
I understand where he's coming from. Baggage is bad. I don't want baggage, but I have a ton. Seriously. Tons, even. The hurt still hurts (though not as much) but lately I can't seem to shake thoughts of the lovely things that I wish to still have.
I wanted to wake D up and to say "D, I can't sleep. Will you talk to me about something to take my mind off it?" but I didn't want to wake him. I also didn't want to have to ask, because I didn't use to have to ask. I used to call or look at him and he would know what was going on without my saying a word and know what to do and make me so very happy and make me feel so very loved.
How can I just forget that feeling?
And how do I ask for things? I'm not good at asking for things and I don't know why. Of course he would stay up and hang out with me. I'm sure he would be glad to. Maybe I just want him to want to, and having to ask makes me feel like he doesn't want to.
But that's not really the case, right?
He just needs to be told, and I need to learn how to tell him what I need.
I'm so too old for this.
OK. Off to class, and I don't know where to go for dinner because Pita Pit, my normal pre-class provider of meals, has been closed by the Department of Mental Health and Hygiene. Awesome.
I experience phases of insomnia.
This isn't one of them. I couldn't sleep last night because we dined with D's cousins and her friends until midnight. I was a zombie by 11:00, and luckily D's astute cousin realized and was trying to extract for about half an hour before we made our escape.
I was still a zombie when we got home, and by the time my head hit the pillow at about 1:00 am I was, of course, wide awake, having missed my sleep window and also done myself a great injustice by eating post-10:00, which is something I try to avoid as I know I will not sleep.
Last night was particularly vexing as there was nothing I could do to combat the sleeplessness. Normally, when unable to sleep, I sneak out of the bedroom with pillow and alarm clock once D has fallen asleep, and watch TV or read until I pass out on the couch. This was not an option last night as D's cousin was sleeping on the couch. D was dead asleep as well, forcing me to sit with eyes wide open in the dark for an hour trying to figure out what to do.
I contemplated going for a walk, but I'm always afraid that will freak D out. I listened to my Learn Italian Podcast for a bit but have decided that I hate the guy and therefore was only more agitated.
Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to think of sweet, comforting, and relaxing things. My thoughts somehow turned to Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend last night and I thought about how adorable he used to be when I couldn't sleep, and how he was always available when I was sad or distressed or stressed. I could call him at any hour and he would appear and stay up with me. He would talk to me or just be there or try to distract me until I fell asleep. He also used to squeeze my head when I had headaches until it felt better, and he would do this for eternity if that's what it took to make me feel better. I wasn't ready for him. I was too young and too critical and I didn't appreciate these things and instead focused on the bad.
Of course there were bad things. Really bad things.
I then got to thinking about Most Hated Ex-Boyfriend, and thought of how he always knew just what to say and how he'd call when he knew I was down and how he could cheer me up with a nickname. He would sing a silly song. He'd make up alternate lyrics. He always knew exactly what to say without my having to tell him. He was my biggest fan. I've never had more self esteem in my life than when I was with him and it was at that time that I should have had none.
Of course there were bad things. Really really bad things.
I've been thinking about these two men a lot lately, and I'm not quite sure why. I think in a lot of ways I was spoiled by having men who knew me effortlessly and who adored and satisfied me without my having to make demands. I never had to ask with these men. I've never had to ask anyone until now.
I've experienced extremes. I've been lucky to have been felt the sweetness and devotion and caring of which men are capable, and have been cursed to have experienced the supreme depravity to which they can succomb.
D wants us to just forget past relationships. "None of that matters," he says. "It's us now, and that's all that matters, right?"
I understand where he's coming from. Baggage is bad. I don't want baggage, but I have a ton. Seriously. Tons, even. The hurt still hurts (though not as much) but lately I can't seem to shake thoughts of the lovely things that I wish to still have.
I wanted to wake D up and to say "D, I can't sleep. Will you talk to me about something to take my mind off it?" but I didn't want to wake him. I also didn't want to have to ask, because I didn't use to have to ask. I used to call or look at him and he would know what was going on without my saying a word and know what to do and make me so very happy and make me feel so very loved.
How can I just forget that feeling?
And how do I ask for things? I'm not good at asking for things and I don't know why. Of course he would stay up and hang out with me. I'm sure he would be glad to. Maybe I just want him to want to, and having to ask makes me feel like he doesn't want to.
But that's not really the case, right?
He just needs to be told, and I need to learn how to tell him what I need.
I'm so too old for this.
OK. Off to class, and I don't know where to go for dinner because Pita Pit, my normal pre-class provider of meals, has been closed by the Department of Mental Health and Hygiene. Awesome.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Routine
I have discovered that I don't like to do things that I have to do.
Yesterday I said "How is it that people work out? It's so boring."
D answered "Yes, it is, but once it becomes part of your routine it won't seem boring. It will just be part of the routine."
"But I don't want it to part of the routine! I don't want there to be a routine!" I said.
And I realized then that I don't want a routine.
I don't want anything to be predictable. I don't want anything to be expected. I don't want anything to be required unless, of course, I get paid for it.
I said "Wait! I think I've discovered the source of all my problems in life! I don't want a routine. Maybe this is why I change jobs every couple of years and why I get bored with things after two years! Like in college I wanted to transfer after two years! And I move into different apartments a lot! And I get crazy in relationships after a couple years."
D, sullen.
"Not that I will get bored of us, of course, because you are a source of endless excitement and unpredictability, always enriching my otherwise mundane life!"
D, smiling.
Seriously, though, I think I don't like routine. This is why I don't watch TV shows. This is why I have a hard time taking classes, because I hate having to go to them. I want to go when I want to go, not because I have to. I like flexibility. I like coming and going as I please. I like making plans when I want to and not making them when I feel like doing nothing.
I don't know what any of this means. I'm wondering if I'd be a more satisfied person if my life had some sort of structure or routine. Maybe I need a minor routine - like on Wednesdays I try new recipes for dinner but they will change from week to week and will therefore seem less routine-like. Or perhaps Thursday will be piano night when I will have to write a song. Perhaps I'll feel more accomplished and less aimless.
Or maybe I'll feel all claustrophobic and enslaved to the routine and as though I have no flexibility in my own life.
OK.
I'm insane.
Until tomorrow.
Yesterday I said "How is it that people work out? It's so boring."
D answered "Yes, it is, but once it becomes part of your routine it won't seem boring. It will just be part of the routine."
"But I don't want it to part of the routine! I don't want there to be a routine!" I said.
And I realized then that I don't want a routine.
I don't want anything to be predictable. I don't want anything to be expected. I don't want anything to be required unless, of course, I get paid for it.
I said "Wait! I think I've discovered the source of all my problems in life! I don't want a routine. Maybe this is why I change jobs every couple of years and why I get bored with things after two years! Like in college I wanted to transfer after two years! And I move into different apartments a lot! And I get crazy in relationships after a couple years."
D, sullen.
"Not that I will get bored of us, of course, because you are a source of endless excitement and unpredictability, always enriching my otherwise mundane life!"
D, smiling.
Seriously, though, I think I don't like routine. This is why I don't watch TV shows. This is why I have a hard time taking classes, because I hate having to go to them. I want to go when I want to go, not because I have to. I like flexibility. I like coming and going as I please. I like making plans when I want to and not making them when I feel like doing nothing.
I don't know what any of this means. I'm wondering if I'd be a more satisfied person if my life had some sort of structure or routine. Maybe I need a minor routine - like on Wednesdays I try new recipes for dinner but they will change from week to week and will therefore seem less routine-like. Or perhaps Thursday will be piano night when I will have to write a song. Perhaps I'll feel more accomplished and less aimless.
Or maybe I'll feel all claustrophobic and enslaved to the routine and as though I have no flexibility in my own life.
OK.
I'm insane.
Until tomorrow.
Pants
D and I are going to a party this weekend to celebrate a civil union. The attire will be "smart summer casual," or "no suits" but "not too casual."
D has one suit with pin-striped pants.
He has three pairs of non-jeans that are frayed at the bottom.
And one pair of jeans.
PW said "He could wear his suit pants with a funky shirt and flip flops!"
Ummmm.
D decided that it was time for new pants.
Knowing D, I expected this to be an ordeal - a neverending exercise in particulars. I agreed to meet him at H & M post-work last night at 6:45. We went back and forth for ages trying to agree on a time and place (Macy's? H & M? Gap?) to meet because he didn't bring his phone to work. We decided on H & M on 34th Street because it would be the cheapest and if we found something there, then we wouldn't need to bother with the other more expensive places at all.
I got there early at around 6:40. He'd said something about going inside to look on his own if he got there early, so I went in just to see if he was there. He wasn't, so I went back outside.
The last thing anyone wants to do is to stand on 34th Street, waiting. Two minutes of this will throw anyone into a murderous rage, directed at both tourists and commuters alike.
I stood outside for another five minutes, staring down the Mr. Softee that was on 7th Avenue. I was determined to overcome Softee, but decided that a soft serve cone would really help me survive the waiting process.
While I was eating the ice cream, a woman approached me, nearly drooling, and said "Where did you get that?" I said "Right there..." and pointed to Softee, who was a mere 15 feet from us. I smiled at her. She said nothing and walked away and didn't even stop at the truck. Wtf!? She had super powers. But why ask at all? I have no idea.
I waited until 6:59 and was starting to get cross. Where was he? I had no way to get in touch with him and decided that I would just leave at 7:00, because I think waiting for 15 minutes on 34th Street without the option of cell phone contact is more than enough.
At 7:00 my cell phone rang. It was D, calling from a pay phone.
"Where are you?"
"At H & M."
"Are you here?"
"Yes. Well, wait, where are you? Are you here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone."
"Yes, but where?"
"Right outside H & M."
"Do you see me?"
"I'm looking for green. Are you wearing green? I thought you were wearing green."
"No, I'm wearing a baby blue hoodie over it, but nevertheless I don't see you. Are you here?"
"Yes, I'm outside."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone! Where are you?"
"Outside! I don't see you!"
"Wait! Are there two H & M's? Are we at the same one?"
"I'm at the one on 34th Street."
"Me too."
"I don't think you're here. Seriously. Do you see me? I've been here for like 20 minutes."
"Me too."
"Well, I don't think you're here."
"I went inside a couple times to look for you."
"Me too. I was looking for you but I didn't see you in there."
"34th and Broadway?"
"Yes... no... wait.... I'm at 34th and 7th."
"Oh."
Oh. So apparently there are two H & M's on 34th Street that are like a block and a half from one another. RIDICULOUS.
So the pants.
He tried on two pairs that didn't quite fit and bought them anyway and that was that.
Amazing.
He kept asking me what I thought and I said things like "They're too short" or "They seem too tight" and he agreed and bought them anyway because he didn't want to shop.
I don't really understand how men's pants are supposed to fit. The things we look for as women don't really apply at all. Men don't seem to have asses while wearing pants and the shape of the leg seems inconsequential. "These ones don't showcase what an awesome ass you have" and "I think you need a looser fit to showcase your shape" but what on earth do I know about men's pants?
We ended up going to Macy's anyway and he bought two more pairs, fashion show with non-non-flattering shirt pending. The lady at Macy's said he needed a "tapered leg" to give him some shape so we had to go to the, ahem, designer section.
We had fun but we were starving to death by the end of it.
I didn't get home until about 9:00 and didn't eat gnocchi with butter/sage/cheese sauce until 9:45. Praise Softee! I think I ate 3x the allowed carbs but whatever. I had to eat that many carbs because SM was supposed to come to dinner tonight and is not, and I had to use the ingredients. I was going to ignore the diet to dine with my rockstar pal who is "just back from australia" and "not touring for june" and breaking plans with old friends because he needs money, which is understandable.
And then we watched DeNiro... er... I mean, Godfather 2, and I fell asleep at 11:00. Wooo!
D has one suit with pin-striped pants.
He has three pairs of non-jeans that are frayed at the bottom.
And one pair of jeans.
PW said "He could wear his suit pants with a funky shirt and flip flops!"
Ummmm.
D decided that it was time for new pants.
Knowing D, I expected this to be an ordeal - a neverending exercise in particulars. I agreed to meet him at H & M post-work last night at 6:45. We went back and forth for ages trying to agree on a time and place (Macy's? H & M? Gap?) to meet because he didn't bring his phone to work. We decided on H & M on 34th Street because it would be the cheapest and if we found something there, then we wouldn't need to bother with the other more expensive places at all.
I got there early at around 6:40. He'd said something about going inside to look on his own if he got there early, so I went in just to see if he was there. He wasn't, so I went back outside.
The last thing anyone wants to do is to stand on 34th Street, waiting. Two minutes of this will throw anyone into a murderous rage, directed at both tourists and commuters alike.
I stood outside for another five minutes, staring down the Mr. Softee that was on 7th Avenue. I was determined to overcome Softee, but decided that a soft serve cone would really help me survive the waiting process.
While I was eating the ice cream, a woman approached me, nearly drooling, and said "Where did you get that?" I said "Right there..." and pointed to Softee, who was a mere 15 feet from us. I smiled at her. She said nothing and walked away and didn't even stop at the truck. Wtf!? She had super powers. But why ask at all? I have no idea.
I waited until 6:59 and was starting to get cross. Where was he? I had no way to get in touch with him and decided that I would just leave at 7:00, because I think waiting for 15 minutes on 34th Street without the option of cell phone contact is more than enough.
At 7:00 my cell phone rang. It was D, calling from a pay phone.
"Where are you?"
"At H & M."
"Are you here?"
"Yes. Well, wait, where are you? Are you here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone."
"Yes, but where?"
"Right outside H & M."
"Do you see me?"
"I'm looking for green. Are you wearing green? I thought you were wearing green."
"No, I'm wearing a baby blue hoodie over it, but nevertheless I don't see you. Are you here?"
"Yes, I'm outside."
"Where?"
"On the pay phone! Where are you?"
"Outside! I don't see you!"
"Wait! Are there two H & M's? Are we at the same one?"
"I'm at the one on 34th Street."
"Me too."
"I don't think you're here. Seriously. Do you see me? I've been here for like 20 minutes."
"Me too."
"Well, I don't think you're here."
"I went inside a couple times to look for you."
"Me too. I was looking for you but I didn't see you in there."
"34th and Broadway?"
"Yes... no... wait.... I'm at 34th and 7th."
"Oh."
Oh. So apparently there are two H & M's on 34th Street that are like a block and a half from one another. RIDICULOUS.
So the pants.
He tried on two pairs that didn't quite fit and bought them anyway and that was that.
Amazing.
He kept asking me what I thought and I said things like "They're too short" or "They seem too tight" and he agreed and bought them anyway because he didn't want to shop.
I don't really understand how men's pants are supposed to fit. The things we look for as women don't really apply at all. Men don't seem to have asses while wearing pants and the shape of the leg seems inconsequential. "These ones don't showcase what an awesome ass you have" and "I think you need a looser fit to showcase your shape" but what on earth do I know about men's pants?
We ended up going to Macy's anyway and he bought two more pairs, fashion show with non-non-flattering shirt pending. The lady at Macy's said he needed a "tapered leg" to give him some shape so we had to go to the, ahem, designer section.
We had fun but we were starving to death by the end of it.
I didn't get home until about 9:00 and didn't eat gnocchi with butter/sage/cheese sauce until 9:45. Praise Softee! I think I ate 3x the allowed carbs but whatever. I had to eat that many carbs because SM was supposed to come to dinner tonight and is not, and I had to use the ingredients. I was going to ignore the diet to dine with my rockstar pal who is "just back from australia" and "not touring for june" and breaking plans with old friends because he needs money, which is understandable.
And then we watched DeNiro... er... I mean, Godfather 2, and I fell asleep at 11:00. Wooo!
Guilt Over Returns
Two members of my archless family have recommended to me that I purchase arch supports from a convenience store to help my flat-footedness. Father swears by them (after having converted to them from his custom-made ones that were apparently the source of all of his problems) and Brother bought some prior to coming to visit this past weekend to help him endure the seemingly endless walking in NYC.
I went to Duane Reade on Saturday night and decided to buy blue Dr. Scholl's liquid arch support things that looked really really super awesome.
I wore them for about 7 hours on Sunday (including about 3.5 hours of straight walking) and have never, ever experienced such pain in my feet in my entire life. Oh my god I thought I was going to die. I actually had to take a bus a few blocks just to get a rest! And then I had to go home, sit for like an hour, put on my old ones and then go grocery shopping.
I decided that I would try to return them. I don't know what I was worried about. They could always say "no" to my audacity. D said "You can return anything," which is true so why do I feel so guilty?
I went to Duane Reade last night and was all embarrassed and nervous and expecting some sort of ordeal.
I said "Do you take returns?"
"Yes, but I have no idea how."
She called The Manager.
"I'd like to return this," I said to him.
"OK."
And that was that!
The end.
I wanted to point out the broken packaging.
Or the fact that I'd used the product.
Or the fact that I'd used the product, under my feet, for hours upon hours in New York City.
But he just let me return them, no questions asked.
I feel so very guilty, but I have no idea why.
I went to Duane Reade on Saturday night and decided to buy blue Dr. Scholl's liquid arch support things that looked really really super awesome.
I wore them for about 7 hours on Sunday (including about 3.5 hours of straight walking) and have never, ever experienced such pain in my feet in my entire life. Oh my god I thought I was going to die. I actually had to take a bus a few blocks just to get a rest! And then I had to go home, sit for like an hour, put on my old ones and then go grocery shopping.
I decided that I would try to return them. I don't know what I was worried about. They could always say "no" to my audacity. D said "You can return anything," which is true so why do I feel so guilty?
I went to Duane Reade last night and was all embarrassed and nervous and expecting some sort of ordeal.
I said "Do you take returns?"
"Yes, but I have no idea how."
She called The Manager.
"I'd like to return this," I said to him.
"OK."
And that was that!
The end.
I wanted to point out the broken packaging.
Or the fact that I'd used the product.
Or the fact that I'd used the product, under my feet, for hours upon hours in New York City.
But he just let me return them, no questions asked.
I feel so very guilty, but I have no idea why.
Don Corleone
D saw The Godfather two weeks ago for the first time. He instantly became obsessed and adorably and constantly performed terrible impressions of Marlon Brando that eventually became quite good.
Last night he started watching The Godfather 2. I watched it with him, as The Godfather 2 is amazing and because I've seen it fewer times than The Godfather and still somehow have no idea what's going on.
D kept saying things like "You said The Lars were going to be legitimate in two weeks, and it's been three weeks since you said that! The Lars are ruining this family!" Hilarious.
Anyway, while watching the movie last night, I gasped when DeNiro appeared for the first on film. Seriously. I gasp every time. "Oh my god he's beautiful," I said, hypnotized.
"You really like the flashback scenes."
I think young DeNiro is my ultimate crush. My heart skipped a beat. Hmmmmm.
Last night he started watching The Godfather 2. I watched it with him, as The Godfather 2 is amazing and because I've seen it fewer times than The Godfather and still somehow have no idea what's going on.
D kept saying things like "You said The Lars were going to be legitimate in two weeks, and it's been three weeks since you said that! The Lars are ruining this family!" Hilarious.
Anyway, while watching the movie last night, I gasped when DeNiro appeared for the first on film. Seriously. I gasp every time. "Oh my god he's beautiful," I said, hypnotized.
"You really like the flashback scenes."
I think young DeNiro is my ultimate crush. My heart skipped a beat. Hmmmmm.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Pop!
Oh how I miss Bench Buddy, as I now have nobody with whom to make fun of whatever pop music is playing in the tissue culture room.
The Pop Channel was just running some contest where they played a "Vintage Clip" and if you knew the artist, you would win tickets to some pop event, I think involving Mary J. Blige.
I thought "Man, that's so easy. That's totally Phil Collins. Whatever."
But it wasn't Phil Collins.
It was Ricky Martin.
I don't know what this means.
I'm pretty sure Ricky Martin sounds absolutely nothing like Phil Collins, though.
So it must mean I'm going insane.
The Pop Channel was just running some contest where they played a "Vintage Clip" and if you knew the artist, you would win tickets to some pop event, I think involving Mary J. Blige.
I thought "Man, that's so easy. That's totally Phil Collins. Whatever."
But it wasn't Phil Collins.
It was Ricky Martin.
I don't know what this means.
I'm pretty sure Ricky Martin sounds absolutely nothing like Phil Collins, though.
So it must mean I'm going insane.
Alone in NYC Makes Me Happy
Ah, yes, an utterly fabulous weekend in NYC.
Shopping date on Friday night - tax free day! Shoes for all!
Met up with Brother for dinner at our favorite restaurant where I subsequently ignored the diet and ate a salad (good), pizza (very bad), and gnutella pizza for dessert (most terrible thing imagineable). Attended a party in Brooklyn where it became the smallest of worlds. I still can't get over it. I'll tell the story later, but it's good. I mostly successfully ignored VB who was drunk and hanging, but she is hard to ignore when her boobs are all over the place. Had nice conversations and made lovely plans that will probably never materialize.
Alone on Saturday morning! Cleaned, read, jumped around. Completed Attempt I of Photo-Project-du-Jour and failed, but it didn't matter because the sun was out and I was looking forward to the day.
Went to alleged "garage sale" on 44th Street that was more of a bizarro flea market.
I really wanted to buy this for D just to see how horrified he would be.
Yes, I would like your old hair products which you store atop your microwave.
Headed downtown on appropriate train after realizing that my first two strategies would be invalid due to weekend train nonsense. Snapped this photo and was then befriended by a boy who wanted to discuss my giant camera.
He turned out to be a photographer's assistant - coordinating logistics. Fantasy job, folks. I probed for information but soon determined that he was a bit flakey and just wanted company, which was fine with me, as I hadn't spoken yet that day.
Located Foley Square in order to view filming of Spiderman 3. My friend's son's high school marching band was to be featured in the scene, which is how I knew it was happening. I had no idea where Foley Square was, and wondered how ever I would find it, but knew I had found it when I saw this:
No ambiguity regarding what movie set this was, folks! They were staging some sort of pro-Spiderman rally at which people held signs that said things like "Spiderman for Mayor!" and "We love you Spiderman!" Little kids dressed up as Spidermen, adults wearing red hoodies, etc.
And no, I didn't see Tobey. He was there, though. As was loathesome Kirsten Dunst. I couldn't get close. Believe me, I tried. I tried to get in at every corner and was denied each time. I ended up standing on the stairs of The International Center for Trade of some such building.
I was there for about two hours and nothing happened, other than a camera sliding zip-line style between two really tall buildings. I'll recognize the scene in the movie just from the camera shot.
I had to leave. My coworker said that twenty minutes after I left Spiderman swung into the scene. Like 4000 times. Because they had to do 4000 takes. Hmph.
Her son was hanging out with Topher Grace who will be playing Venom. Her son's friend also said "Kirsten Dunst is uglier in person." Heh. Speaking of Kirsten Dunst... I was told this weekend that Jake Gylenhaal is dating Natalie Portman! What is wrong with that boy?
Headed to MoCCA convention from Spidey set to see Brother at his table. Met up with MF, E, PW+M and braved the crowds.
It was mayhem. I bought far more than I'd intended to buy. I can't wait to read everything! Brother tried to get me things for free by trading his book, but sadly he could not strike a deal. He did, however, buy me a book that I really wanted that I didn't have enough cash for. Awwwwww.
Falafel for MF, E, PW+M anf myself post MoCCA insanity. We talked about weddings and cruises and how did everyone know me? I love friends meeting friends.
Headed back uptown. Spent a fortune at Duane Reade (I need to make a return! how bizarre). Looked at dresses but didn't buy any.
Brother came back earlier than expected because the after-party was lame. We talked about relationships and how they are hard work. I am so impressed with the man Brother has become. I want to lock him in a room with D and force him to share his knowledge. He said "Relationships always take work. If you stop working at it, it will get boring, and if you stop wanting to work at it, then something is wrong." We watched Ellie Parker and then went to bed early.
Yoga in bed on Sunday morning. More cleaning, eating, reading, editing photos.
Met up with SK for carrot cake (bad!) outside in the sun where we met regulars and made new friends. "You can play here!" they said of the place, where there is live music at all times. "I don't know..." but they all want the CD. "You should hear so-and-so play!" of so-and-so who was adorable and British and sitting outside with us with his guitar. But then he played, and I thought "My music would destroy his folk!" and then decided not to drop a CD off ever.
Saw La Moustache which was amazing. Go see it immediately. Nothing better than a French mind-fuck movie on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The movie is the type that makes you disoriented in the real world. I picked up some photos at CVS. To decompress after the movie, we sat in Washington Square Park which is always so chill.
I think I am becoming a mentor to SK. She asked if it bothered her. I didn't tell her that I love assuming this role because it reminds me of how far I've come, of how much I do know. I always focus on what is missing or what I don't know yet or what I have yet to achieve, and lose sight of progress and what knowledge I do have, even if it is not as vast as I'd like. SK told me that she appreciates me and enjoys our friendship, and asked if I thought that was weird, and I said "No, because nobody in NY says things like that because so few people here actually realize that there are other people around them." I am so glad to have girlfriends now.
Headed to Whole Foods where I spent too much money but didn't particularly care.
Went home and realized I forgot many things at Whole Foods. Ugh. Put photos in photo albums and wanted to scream because how is it that I have already run out of space in the new albums? If I'd only known! I need to get a couple more as there will be many photos post-London-Valencia-possibly-Ireland-Barcelona-Italy-France.
Laundry. Amish Market to purchase forgotten food items. Fried tofu and broccoli and peppers and brown rice (I loathe brown rice and this will never change) with peanut sauce - not too bad! Tony Awards - neither Harry nor Ralph won, sniff, and I really need to see The Drowsey Chaperone but will now never be able to get tickets.
D came back at around 9:00 and it turned out that I missed him. I was very happy to see him and he was glad I made extra dinner for him just in case he hadn't eaten. He read art magazines while I yelled at Oprah on the Tony's - why must she be everywhere? just leave me alone! - and then we talked until too late about things that didn't get resolved last week and I think, gasp, progress was made. I said "I think the problem is that when we have issues I don't get the feeling that you actually understand what I'm saying. I know you feel differently about pretty much everything and I understand that and can therefore predict how you will feel about things. You are continuously baffled by the way I respond to things because you don't actually understand, because you don't take the time to understand because you just think I'm wrong in my responses to things in my own life" etc. and I think he actually understood.
Woo! We are happy today and I think, yes, that progress was made. I think. I am never to ask "Why did you do/say that?" and am instead to lovingly say "What you did/said just then really hurt my feelings" and then explain myself calmly, even though I think this sort of thing will prove impossible because, well, you know how boys can be and how baffled you become and how disrespected you can feel, even though they don't mean for these things to happen.
And now I am back at work and it's Monday and how much does work suck after such a wonderful weekend? Lots, that's how much.
OK. I should eat lunch.
Until tomorrow...
Shopping date on Friday night - tax free day! Shoes for all!
Met up with Brother for dinner at our favorite restaurant where I subsequently ignored the diet and ate a salad (good), pizza (very bad), and gnutella pizza for dessert (most terrible thing imagineable). Attended a party in Brooklyn where it became the smallest of worlds. I still can't get over it. I'll tell the story later, but it's good. I mostly successfully ignored VB who was drunk and hanging, but she is hard to ignore when her boobs are all over the place. Had nice conversations and made lovely plans that will probably never materialize.
Alone on Saturday morning! Cleaned, read, jumped around. Completed Attempt I of Photo-Project-du-Jour and failed, but it didn't matter because the sun was out and I was looking forward to the day.
Went to alleged "garage sale" on 44th Street that was more of a bizarro flea market.
I really wanted to buy this for D just to see how horrified he would be.
Yes, I would like your old hair products which you store atop your microwave.
Headed downtown on appropriate train after realizing that my first two strategies would be invalid due to weekend train nonsense. Snapped this photo and was then befriended by a boy who wanted to discuss my giant camera.
He turned out to be a photographer's assistant - coordinating logistics. Fantasy job, folks. I probed for information but soon determined that he was a bit flakey and just wanted company, which was fine with me, as I hadn't spoken yet that day.
Located Foley Square in order to view filming of Spiderman 3. My friend's son's high school marching band was to be featured in the scene, which is how I knew it was happening. I had no idea where Foley Square was, and wondered how ever I would find it, but knew I had found it when I saw this:
No ambiguity regarding what movie set this was, folks! They were staging some sort of pro-Spiderman rally at which people held signs that said things like "Spiderman for Mayor!" and "We love you Spiderman!" Little kids dressed up as Spidermen, adults wearing red hoodies, etc.
And no, I didn't see Tobey. He was there, though. As was loathesome Kirsten Dunst. I couldn't get close. Believe me, I tried. I tried to get in at every corner and was denied each time. I ended up standing on the stairs of The International Center for Trade of some such building.
I was there for about two hours and nothing happened, other than a camera sliding zip-line style between two really tall buildings. I'll recognize the scene in the movie just from the camera shot.
I had to leave. My coworker said that twenty minutes after I left Spiderman swung into the scene. Like 4000 times. Because they had to do 4000 takes. Hmph.
Her son was hanging out with Topher Grace who will be playing Venom. Her son's friend also said "Kirsten Dunst is uglier in person." Heh. Speaking of Kirsten Dunst... I was told this weekend that Jake Gylenhaal is dating Natalie Portman! What is wrong with that boy?
Headed to MoCCA convention from Spidey set to see Brother at his table. Met up with MF, E, PW+M and braved the crowds.
It was mayhem. I bought far more than I'd intended to buy. I can't wait to read everything! Brother tried to get me things for free by trading his book, but sadly he could not strike a deal. He did, however, buy me a book that I really wanted that I didn't have enough cash for. Awwwwww.
Falafel for MF, E, PW+M anf myself post MoCCA insanity. We talked about weddings and cruises and how did everyone know me? I love friends meeting friends.
Headed back uptown. Spent a fortune at Duane Reade (I need to make a return! how bizarre). Looked at dresses but didn't buy any.
Brother came back earlier than expected because the after-party was lame. We talked about relationships and how they are hard work. I am so impressed with the man Brother has become. I want to lock him in a room with D and force him to share his knowledge. He said "Relationships always take work. If you stop working at it, it will get boring, and if you stop wanting to work at it, then something is wrong." We watched Ellie Parker and then went to bed early.
Yoga in bed on Sunday morning. More cleaning, eating, reading, editing photos.
Met up with SK for carrot cake (bad!) outside in the sun where we met regulars and made new friends. "You can play here!" they said of the place, where there is live music at all times. "I don't know..." but they all want the CD. "You should hear so-and-so play!" of so-and-so who was adorable and British and sitting outside with us with his guitar. But then he played, and I thought "My music would destroy his folk!" and then decided not to drop a CD off ever.
Saw La Moustache which was amazing. Go see it immediately. Nothing better than a French mind-fuck movie on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The movie is the type that makes you disoriented in the real world. I picked up some photos at CVS. To decompress after the movie, we sat in Washington Square Park which is always so chill.
I think I am becoming a mentor to SK. She asked if it bothered her. I didn't tell her that I love assuming this role because it reminds me of how far I've come, of how much I do know. I always focus on what is missing or what I don't know yet or what I have yet to achieve, and lose sight of progress and what knowledge I do have, even if it is not as vast as I'd like. SK told me that she appreciates me and enjoys our friendship, and asked if I thought that was weird, and I said "No, because nobody in NY says things like that because so few people here actually realize that there are other people around them." I am so glad to have girlfriends now.
Headed to Whole Foods where I spent too much money but didn't particularly care.
Went home and realized I forgot many things at Whole Foods. Ugh. Put photos in photo albums and wanted to scream because how is it that I have already run out of space in the new albums? If I'd only known! I need to get a couple more as there will be many photos post-London-Valencia-possibly-Ireland-Barcelona-Italy-France.
Laundry. Amish Market to purchase forgotten food items. Fried tofu and broccoli and peppers and brown rice (I loathe brown rice and this will never change) with peanut sauce - not too bad! Tony Awards - neither Harry nor Ralph won, sniff, and I really need to see The Drowsey Chaperone but will now never be able to get tickets.
D came back at around 9:00 and it turned out that I missed him. I was very happy to see him and he was glad I made extra dinner for him just in case he hadn't eaten. He read art magazines while I yelled at Oprah on the Tony's - why must she be everywhere? just leave me alone! - and then we talked until too late about things that didn't get resolved last week and I think, gasp, progress was made. I said "I think the problem is that when we have issues I don't get the feeling that you actually understand what I'm saying. I know you feel differently about pretty much everything and I understand that and can therefore predict how you will feel about things. You are continuously baffled by the way I respond to things because you don't actually understand, because you don't take the time to understand because you just think I'm wrong in my responses to things in my own life" etc. and I think he actually understood.
Woo! We are happy today and I think, yes, that progress was made. I think. I am never to ask "Why did you do/say that?" and am instead to lovingly say "What you did/said just then really hurt my feelings" and then explain myself calmly, even though I think this sort of thing will prove impossible because, well, you know how boys can be and how baffled you become and how disrespected you can feel, even though they don't mean for these things to happen.
And now I am back at work and it's Monday and how much does work suck after such a wonderful weekend? Lots, that's how much.
OK. I should eat lunch.
Until tomorrow...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Shopgirl - The Musical
Genre: Totally and Utterly Musical Inspired
Date: 6.8.06
Description:
I swear I have nothing against Steve Martin. I love him. I think he's funny. I just want more from him, dammit! 'Shopgirl' could have been good had it not been so shallow and emotionless.
I was thinking that perhaps, had it been a musical, there would have been much more feeling.
Hence 'Shopgirl - The Musical!'
I've been wanting to write a musical for a while, but I can never think of anything to write a musical about. I guess that's where the original idea for 'My Mundane Life in Song' came from, but life has gotten even more mundane as of late so I haven't been able to think of any song topics. Actually, this isn't true. I've recorded like 10 songs in the last few months but haven't finished any of them and now they're irrelevant.
I've had a few ideas here and there for full-fledged musicals, but the ideas are never as melodramatic as I'd like the music to be. So this song is ultradramatic, complete with me trying to do all the parts. It's overwrought, emo, dramatic. It's more 'Miss Saigon' than 'Pajama Game.' I'm such a drama queen. 'Shopgirl' itself should have been more of a drama queen.
Let's see. The recording is atrocious. I was too lazy to get out the mic on this one and everything you hear is first-take except for a couple times when I totally messed up the lyrics. It's so weird to me that I continually mess up the lyrics to my own songs, but I guess when you write a song in like one hour and then record it the next you're bound to forget how things go. The singing is totally melodramatic, but I must admit I enjoyed doing it. Recording it reminded me of this Danny Elfman recording I bought for my father that has Danny Elfman singing a demo for the entire score for 'Nightmare Before Christmas' by himself, doing all the characters, being totally nuts. It's a silly thing to do and is therefore awesome. I may have to do more of this.
You can also hear Hell's Kitchen traffic if you listen closely enough.
I doubt you'll make it through the whole thing, but if you don't I'd recommend at least getting through the bridge which starts with "I love Ray..." and ends with "Daddy, daddy..." etc.
Lyrics:
Mirabel:
I am a Shopgirl
I sell gloves by day and at night
I draw with charcoal to work out issues I have with my father
I am quite desperate for any type of affection
But only if the guy wears nice shoes and buys me dresses
Jeremy is very quirky
But we on't be able to take care of me monetarily
Ray:
I am an old man
I have become smitten with the Shopgirl
To whom I'll send a pair of gloves to get her attention
Shopgirl, I like you, but this is going nowhere
Cuz for work I must travel
But if you show your skin I'll pay the loans for your tuition
Let's shack up when I'm in town
Mirabel:
I'm so happy when you're around
I love Ray so I'll throw away my antidepressants
Now I'm a mess
But he will save me
Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy
Ray:
Here is a letter stating that I cheated on you
Mirabel:
I'm taking my things
I'm going to Vermont to see my family
Ray:
Please come to New York
I'm sorry that I'm such a dickhead
Mirabel:
OK, I'll do it,
I secretly love you so you're forgiven
Ray:
I'm thinking of getting a place in New York City
A three bedroom in case I meet someone and want a family
Oh shit
Mirabel:
I'm taking my things
I'll work in a gallery and I'll have my own show of drawings with the support of Jeremy
Thank you for coming
I want you to have the drawing of me in my bed
Ray:
I'm sorry for everything that I did
Mirabel:
I know, I know, I know
The Chorus:
She didn't like him the way he was
Now he's well dressed so she does
Jeremy:
Yes I may be hair but I have a personality
Unlike the other characters in this movie
Date: 6.8.06
Description:
I swear I have nothing against Steve Martin. I love him. I think he's funny. I just want more from him, dammit! 'Shopgirl' could have been good had it not been so shallow and emotionless.
I was thinking that perhaps, had it been a musical, there would have been much more feeling.
Hence 'Shopgirl - The Musical!'
I've been wanting to write a musical for a while, but I can never think of anything to write a musical about. I guess that's where the original idea for 'My Mundane Life in Song' came from, but life has gotten even more mundane as of late so I haven't been able to think of any song topics. Actually, this isn't true. I've recorded like 10 songs in the last few months but haven't finished any of them and now they're irrelevant.
I've had a few ideas here and there for full-fledged musicals, but the ideas are never as melodramatic as I'd like the music to be. So this song is ultradramatic, complete with me trying to do all the parts. It's overwrought, emo, dramatic. It's more 'Miss Saigon' than 'Pajama Game.' I'm such a drama queen. 'Shopgirl' itself should have been more of a drama queen.
Let's see. The recording is atrocious. I was too lazy to get out the mic on this one and everything you hear is first-take except for a couple times when I totally messed up the lyrics. It's so weird to me that I continually mess up the lyrics to my own songs, but I guess when you write a song in like one hour and then record it the next you're bound to forget how things go. The singing is totally melodramatic, but I must admit I enjoyed doing it. Recording it reminded me of this Danny Elfman recording I bought for my father that has Danny Elfman singing a demo for the entire score for 'Nightmare Before Christmas' by himself, doing all the characters, being totally nuts. It's a silly thing to do and is therefore awesome. I may have to do more of this.
You can also hear Hell's Kitchen traffic if you listen closely enough.
I doubt you'll make it through the whole thing, but if you don't I'd recommend at least getting through the bridge which starts with "I love Ray..." and ends with "Daddy, daddy..." etc.
Lyrics:
Mirabel:
I am a Shopgirl
I sell gloves by day and at night
I draw with charcoal to work out issues I have with my father
I am quite desperate for any type of affection
But only if the guy wears nice shoes and buys me dresses
Jeremy is very quirky
But we on't be able to take care of me monetarily
Ray:
I am an old man
I have become smitten with the Shopgirl
To whom I'll send a pair of gloves to get her attention
Shopgirl, I like you, but this is going nowhere
Cuz for work I must travel
But if you show your skin I'll pay the loans for your tuition
Let's shack up when I'm in town
Mirabel:
I'm so happy when you're around
I love Ray so I'll throw away my antidepressants
Now I'm a mess
But he will save me
Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy
Ray:
Here is a letter stating that I cheated on you
Mirabel:
I'm taking my things
I'm going to Vermont to see my family
Ray:
Please come to New York
I'm sorry that I'm such a dickhead
Mirabel:
OK, I'll do it,
I secretly love you so you're forgiven
Ray:
I'm thinking of getting a place in New York City
A three bedroom in case I meet someone and want a family
Oh shit
Mirabel:
I'm taking my things
I'll work in a gallery and I'll have my own show of drawings with the support of Jeremy
Thank you for coming
I want you to have the drawing of me in my bed
Ray:
I'm sorry for everything that I did
Mirabel:
I know, I know, I know
The Chorus:
She didn't like him the way he was
Now he's well dressed so she does
Jeremy:
Yes I may be hair but I have a personality
Unlike the other characters in this movie
Podcast
Even though I knew it would happen I'm not quite prepared. There are rumblings today, everyone's heard something, it's going down tomorrow, but it sounds like everything might be coming up roses. If nothing goes down I will be disappointed, but if something goes down I think I'll feel like I've been punched in the stomach no matter what it is. I'm not prepared even though I've considered every scenario 14,000 times.
***
I had Ethiopian food last night for the first time and am unsure of how I managed to live beforehand. The restaurant is right below my apartment! Woop!
***
I am trying to learn Italian via Podcast. I've been accused of being "wicked smaht" before, but not so when it comes to learning languages. I am completely incapable of speaking foreign languages. I can understand, but I fear the day when I should actually have to say something beyond "Ciao!" D, of course, has picked up the entirety of the Italian language in two days and keeps trying to talk to me, but I am helpless without my guidebook or Podcast. The Podcasts are awesome, though, because they allow me to speak Italian phrases out loud on the train and scare commuters. It's awesome. Actually, Podcasts are awesome. I've been staying away from them because I thought they were too high-tech, but dear god you can get anything as a Podcast!
***
Lately I have been absentminded. I exercised (!) the other night (!!) and afterwards decided that I should put the Italy cruise on my calendar so as not to make plans for those weeks. I flipped to September and realized, of course of course of course is it possible for me to suck any more?, that I will be on a boat in the Mediterranean the day of RP's wedding. I suck! What is wrong with me? I've been trying to understand the virtues of spontaneity and not planning and not thinking ahead so as to keep options open for wonderful things that might pop up and I've been trying ever-so-hard to adapt and now look what I've done! It would have been different had I made the active decision to miss RP's wedding in favor of the cruise, but this sucks. Hard. I hope she doesn't defriend me. She sent a save-the-date like 6 months ago and I did not save the date. I obsessed about it in the shower, trying to figure out what is wrong with my brain and how this can be happening to me, and realized when I got out that I had only shaved one leg. What is wrong with me!?
***
So yeah, exercise. I started one tape. Yes, a tape, to save money on a gym membership or whatever people do, and I like one of them. It's dance! Woo! It's still dorky enough that I will only do it when there is no risk of D's being at home, but it's acceptable. My body didn't hurt enough the following day, though, so I probably have to do more. I also bought a weight-lifting one but sat through it once and realized I cannot lift weights. Well, I can, but not the way SHE wanted me to. No way. I'll have to find a good beginning tape that doesn't require equipment other than weights. Seriously. Shouldn't they tell you this before you buy the tape?
***
Today I had to explain to D that the goal is not to cheat the diet. The goal is to adhere to the diet as best as possible so as to be a healthy person, and to cheat only when I absolutely cannot survive without five reverse fudge-striped cookies that are calling to me from the topmost shelf. I was ecstatic this morning when the dietician told me that if I had to eat ice cream, then Mr. Softee was "not so bad" since soft ice cream is mostly air and therefore less terrible than hard ice cream. I wanted to hug her.
***
I am not going to class tonight because I want to read about carbohydrates and maybe read some Italian verbs and also some fiction and possibly movie reviews. I want not to waste 3 hours of my life for the 20 minutes during which I will learn something. I've been slacking off on life because I've been being too social and need to just decompress and process what's coming tomorrow before the mayhem of the weekend begins. I think I am not going to the party tomorrow night because VB will be in attendance and I cannot (will not) cope with confrontation and eye rolling. Plus I need to buy a dress (would be so nice to get that over with and not have to wander around the city all weekend) and to finish writing my musical version of "Shopgirl" aka "Creepy Movie" for all ya'll.
***
The weekend will be good. D will be away. Brother will be in town hoping people will buy his book. There will be a movie shoot and I will be there, gawking and photographing and hoping for a glimpse of the superhero. Hopefully I'll have time to read things and record things and buy new foods. I hope to watch a movie at IFC and attend the convention, dine with friends, sleep late on Saturday and even later on Sunday. I think I'll have nothing to worry about this weekend.
***
***
I had Ethiopian food last night for the first time and am unsure of how I managed to live beforehand. The restaurant is right below my apartment! Woop!
***
I am trying to learn Italian via Podcast. I've been accused of being "wicked smaht" before, but not so when it comes to learning languages. I am completely incapable of speaking foreign languages. I can understand, but I fear the day when I should actually have to say something beyond "Ciao!" D, of course, has picked up the entirety of the Italian language in two days and keeps trying to talk to me, but I am helpless without my guidebook or Podcast. The Podcasts are awesome, though, because they allow me to speak Italian phrases out loud on the train and scare commuters. It's awesome. Actually, Podcasts are awesome. I've been staying away from them because I thought they were too high-tech, but dear god you can get anything as a Podcast!
***
Lately I have been absentminded. I exercised (!) the other night (!!) and afterwards decided that I should put the Italy cruise on my calendar so as not to make plans for those weeks. I flipped to September and realized, of course of course of course is it possible for me to suck any more?, that I will be on a boat in the Mediterranean the day of RP's wedding. I suck! What is wrong with me? I've been trying to understand the virtues of spontaneity and not planning and not thinking ahead so as to keep options open for wonderful things that might pop up and I've been trying ever-so-hard to adapt and now look what I've done! It would have been different had I made the active decision to miss RP's wedding in favor of the cruise, but this sucks. Hard. I hope she doesn't defriend me. She sent a save-the-date like 6 months ago and I did not save the date. I obsessed about it in the shower, trying to figure out what is wrong with my brain and how this can be happening to me, and realized when I got out that I had only shaved one leg. What is wrong with me!?
***
So yeah, exercise. I started one tape. Yes, a tape, to save money on a gym membership or whatever people do, and I like one of them. It's dance! Woo! It's still dorky enough that I will only do it when there is no risk of D's being at home, but it's acceptable. My body didn't hurt enough the following day, though, so I probably have to do more. I also bought a weight-lifting one but sat through it once and realized I cannot lift weights. Well, I can, but not the way SHE wanted me to. No way. I'll have to find a good beginning tape that doesn't require equipment other than weights. Seriously. Shouldn't they tell you this before you buy the tape?
***
Today I had to explain to D that the goal is not to cheat the diet. The goal is to adhere to the diet as best as possible so as to be a healthy person, and to cheat only when I absolutely cannot survive without five reverse fudge-striped cookies that are calling to me from the topmost shelf. I was ecstatic this morning when the dietician told me that if I had to eat ice cream, then Mr. Softee was "not so bad" since soft ice cream is mostly air and therefore less terrible than hard ice cream. I wanted to hug her.
***
I am not going to class tonight because I want to read about carbohydrates and maybe read some Italian verbs and also some fiction and possibly movie reviews. I want not to waste 3 hours of my life for the 20 minutes during which I will learn something. I've been slacking off on life because I've been being too social and need to just decompress and process what's coming tomorrow before the mayhem of the weekend begins. I think I am not going to the party tomorrow night because VB will be in attendance and I cannot (will not) cope with confrontation and eye rolling. Plus I need to buy a dress (would be so nice to get that over with and not have to wander around the city all weekend) and to finish writing my musical version of "Shopgirl" aka "Creepy Movie" for all ya'll.
***
The weekend will be good. D will be away. Brother will be in town hoping people will buy his book. There will be a movie shoot and I will be there, gawking and photographing and hoping for a glimpse of the superhero. Hopefully I'll have time to read things and record things and buy new foods. I hope to watch a movie at IFC and attend the convention, dine with friends, sleep late on Saturday and even later on Sunday. I think I'll have nothing to worry about this weekend.
***
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
WC Came to Visit and So I Experienced NYC - Part III
WC wanted to go to dim sum. I didn't want to, because from what I've been told dim sum isn't as awesome an experience for those of us with meatless diets. He finally coerced me into joining him. D and his friends go often, so we were scheduled to just tag along with them.
Except that Brother needed to drop some books off for the MoCCA convention next weekend, and we didn't plan it, so I had to wait for him instead of going to dim sum.
It was nice to see Brother. He made a sandwich and we talked about simple sugars and The Parents, and mused over how bizarre this whole cruise event is.
When he left, I waited on the 1 platform for ages and finally jumped on a train to head downtown to meet D and WC for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. WC also wanted to go to Liberty Island, but no way. The lines, the tourists, etc. D suggested the Staten Island Ferry because it is free and provides a lovely view of The Statue. I have never been on the Ferry, so I was pretty psyched.
Until, of course, the 1 train started going backwards at 14th Street. I was sitting there listening to my Ipod, ho hum, when all of a sudden the train started going backwards. My instinct was that I was going completely insane. "Is it possible I just didn't realize in what direction the train was going?" I tried looking at other people on the train, and soon sensed global confusion. Some girls motioned to me and said "IS THIS TRAIN GOING UPTOWN!?" "Ummm..." I said. "I think so...."
So yeah. The 1 apparently stops at 14th Street on the weekends. Awesome. I took it back up to 23rd Street and called D. They had just missed the ferry. "When's the next one?" I asked. "In half an hour." I didn't know if I could make it. D suggested taking a cab, so I did and met them in Battery Park like three minutes before the ferry was leaving.
We hauled it to the ferry, only to hear the announcement that the ferry was cancelled.
Bastards!
We gave up and had Mr. Softee's and stared at buildings downtown for a bit. WC saw a store that sells fancy chocolates that he likes but it was closed. I google texted and found another one uptown that was allegedly open. We headed up and WC bought an assortment of allegedly yummy chocolates. Then we looked at Grand Central. We had planned to grab a drink at The Oyster Bar but of course it was closed.
WC, who is a bit of a foodie, wanted to go to Balthazar. It's very very very fancy and very very very good. Attentive and professional waiters, water constantly, amazing food. Actually, probably best meal ever. I had a carmelized onion/goat cheese tart with salad as an appetizer, fennel ravioli with garlic and pesto and pine nuts and tomatoes for dinner, meringue with warm berries for dessert, and a glass of wine. Fabulous experience. I love to have visitors.
Anyway, the culmination of the weekend occurred while dining at Balthazar.
Picture it:
Small table in the corner in the back of the restaurant, awesome because it was quiet. I am sitting against the wall on a booth bench that stretches three tables to me to the right. I'm looking out at the rest of the restaurant. D is sitting next to me on my left, in the corner. WC is sitting at a right angle to me (against the other wall) to D's left. So WC is facing the table across from us, which is empty.
Like ten minutes after we sit down Laura Dern comes in and sits directly across from WC at the table opposite us! So WC was basically staring at Laura Dern for the next two hours. And then we realized that Laura Dern was having dinner with Meg Ryan!!! I was sitting on the booth bench with Meg Ryan!!!!
We tried to play it cool. We tried to talk to each other. We tried not to gawk. But dear god WC was looking right at Laura Dern and I was basically sitting with Meg Ryan.
Every now and then D would mention how he was trying so hard not to look. "This is really difficult for me," I said, "since Laura Dern is in one of my favorite movies of all time... like seriously... she's had such an effect on me... I saw Jurassic Park like 7 times in the theater! How am I supposed to deal with this?" And then "Would it be inappropriate for me to fake an orgasm right now?"
I couldn't eavesdrop. The restaurant was too loud, and it also would have been extremely obvious if I was listening in. They sounded like two girls out for dinner. I think Meg Ryan said "Blah blah blah... and then he said blah blah blah and I couldn't believe it!" and Laura Dern was all shocked and horrified.
Laura Dern is gorgeous. Meg Ryan has had too much plastic surgery. They ate french fries. Awesome.
We left Balthazar, star-struck, and just headed home because, really, what could we have done that night to beat that?
I ate Cheez-It's while we watched the remainder of Shopgirl, which remained creepy but was also superficial and just generally detestable (bad). Yes, I read the novella and it was mostly forgettable, but I didn't feel dirty after reading it as I felt after watching the movie. There wasn't one flattering thing about women in that movie. It was gross. Jason Schwartzmann, however, was magnificent in it, so if you must see it, it won't be a complete waste.
D and I went to bed and WC somehow managed to make it to his 3:00 am shuttle. Bless him.
We had a good time and now I am looking forward to next weekend, when I will be alone at last. I am looking forward to quiet. I think I am going to be alone tonight as well for the first time in about three weeks. I am going to bust out the exer-DVD's and move my ass, and do laundry, and watch the rest of The King and I which I have been trying to watch for like two weeks. The rest of the week is mayhem. I ate lame pizza last night with MF but was buzzed from one glass of wine over conversation about how absolutely splendid therapy is. Tomorrow night will be my first experience with Etiopian food with TE. Thursday is class. And then... the weekend. Only three more days. Woo!
Except that Brother needed to drop some books off for the MoCCA convention next weekend, and we didn't plan it, so I had to wait for him instead of going to dim sum.
It was nice to see Brother. He made a sandwich and we talked about simple sugars and The Parents, and mused over how bizarre this whole cruise event is.
When he left, I waited on the 1 platform for ages and finally jumped on a train to head downtown to meet D and WC for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. WC also wanted to go to Liberty Island, but no way. The lines, the tourists, etc. D suggested the Staten Island Ferry because it is free and provides a lovely view of The Statue. I have never been on the Ferry, so I was pretty psyched.
Until, of course, the 1 train started going backwards at 14th Street. I was sitting there listening to my Ipod, ho hum, when all of a sudden the train started going backwards. My instinct was that I was going completely insane. "Is it possible I just didn't realize in what direction the train was going?" I tried looking at other people on the train, and soon sensed global confusion. Some girls motioned to me and said "IS THIS TRAIN GOING UPTOWN!?" "Ummm..." I said. "I think so...."
So yeah. The 1 apparently stops at 14th Street on the weekends. Awesome. I took it back up to 23rd Street and called D. They had just missed the ferry. "When's the next one?" I asked. "In half an hour." I didn't know if I could make it. D suggested taking a cab, so I did and met them in Battery Park like three minutes before the ferry was leaving.
We hauled it to the ferry, only to hear the announcement that the ferry was cancelled.
Bastards!
We gave up and had Mr. Softee's and stared at buildings downtown for a bit. WC saw a store that sells fancy chocolates that he likes but it was closed. I google texted and found another one uptown that was allegedly open. We headed up and WC bought an assortment of allegedly yummy chocolates. Then we looked at Grand Central. We had planned to grab a drink at The Oyster Bar but of course it was closed.
WC, who is a bit of a foodie, wanted to go to Balthazar. It's very very very fancy and very very very good. Attentive and professional waiters, water constantly, amazing food. Actually, probably best meal ever. I had a carmelized onion/goat cheese tart with salad as an appetizer, fennel ravioli with garlic and pesto and pine nuts and tomatoes for dinner, meringue with warm berries for dessert, and a glass of wine. Fabulous experience. I love to have visitors.
Anyway, the culmination of the weekend occurred while dining at Balthazar.
Picture it:
Small table in the corner in the back of the restaurant, awesome because it was quiet. I am sitting against the wall on a booth bench that stretches three tables to me to the right. I'm looking out at the rest of the restaurant. D is sitting next to me on my left, in the corner. WC is sitting at a right angle to me (against the other wall) to D's left. So WC is facing the table across from us, which is empty.
Like ten minutes after we sit down Laura Dern comes in and sits directly across from WC at the table opposite us! So WC was basically staring at Laura Dern for the next two hours. And then we realized that Laura Dern was having dinner with Meg Ryan!!! I was sitting on the booth bench with Meg Ryan!!!!
We tried to play it cool. We tried to talk to each other. We tried not to gawk. But dear god WC was looking right at Laura Dern and I was basically sitting with Meg Ryan.
Every now and then D would mention how he was trying so hard not to look. "This is really difficult for me," I said, "since Laura Dern is in one of my favorite movies of all time... like seriously... she's had such an effect on me... I saw Jurassic Park like 7 times in the theater! How am I supposed to deal with this?" And then "Would it be inappropriate for me to fake an orgasm right now?"
I couldn't eavesdrop. The restaurant was too loud, and it also would have been extremely obvious if I was listening in. They sounded like two girls out for dinner. I think Meg Ryan said "Blah blah blah... and then he said blah blah blah and I couldn't believe it!" and Laura Dern was all shocked and horrified.
Laura Dern is gorgeous. Meg Ryan has had too much plastic surgery. They ate french fries. Awesome.
We left Balthazar, star-struck, and just headed home because, really, what could we have done that night to beat that?
I ate Cheez-It's while we watched the remainder of Shopgirl, which remained creepy but was also superficial and just generally detestable (bad). Yes, I read the novella and it was mostly forgettable, but I didn't feel dirty after reading it as I felt after watching the movie. There wasn't one flattering thing about women in that movie. It was gross. Jason Schwartzmann, however, was magnificent in it, so if you must see it, it won't be a complete waste.
D and I went to bed and WC somehow managed to make it to his 3:00 am shuttle. Bless him.
We had a good time and now I am looking forward to next weekend, when I will be alone at last. I am looking forward to quiet. I think I am going to be alone tonight as well for the first time in about three weeks. I am going to bust out the exer-DVD's and move my ass, and do laundry, and watch the rest of The King and I which I have been trying to watch for like two weeks. The rest of the week is mayhem. I ate lame pizza last night with MF but was buzzed from one glass of wine over conversation about how absolutely splendid therapy is. Tomorrow night will be my first experience with Etiopian food with TE. Thursday is class. And then... the weekend. Only three more days. Woo!
WC Came to Visit and So I Experienced NYC - Part II
We woke up on Saturday morning, ready for a full day of being tourists.
Since we left the apartment at a reasonable hour, I hoped that my quest for a breakfast burrito would lead us to Vynl, this cute new place near my apartment that is always mobbed. It was not mobbed (woo!) and they had a breakfast burrito! Bliss. Vynl is mod, funky, and music-themed and has all sorts of musician action figures throughout the restaurant.
So how jealous are all of you that we got to sit at the booth with the New Kids on the Block action figures? I knew you would be!
We then headed up to The Met where we saw armor and weaponry and sculptures (finally!) and not everything but seeing everything is impossible. We walked through Central Park. We stopped, again, due to stamina and had a snack before heading to the Museum of Natural History, but thought better of it and decided to rest our feet back at the apartment and possibly take naps.
I didn't feel good at all. I think I ate something wrong. Or didn't eat enough. Or my sugar was just weird. I totally passed out while WC wandered around Times Square. D woke me up and I still felt bizarre. I tried having a salad, but it didn't really help.
I tried to pick a restaurant for dinner but I had a hard time. I was determined to find tapas, in the East Village, for WC. I tried to make reservations, I looked at 438 menus on menupages.com. We finally decided on a Brazilian place on 1st or A. I can't remember. By the time we were seated it was 10:00. We had lovely conversation while drinking peach sangria. I had spinach/ricotta balls and then an endive salad with goat cheese and cocunut-rum-infused-bananas which tasted so much better than it sounds.
We were exhausted after dinner so headed back to the apartment and began watching Shopgirl, the creepiest movie of all time.
Since we left the apartment at a reasonable hour, I hoped that my quest for a breakfast burrito would lead us to Vynl, this cute new place near my apartment that is always mobbed. It was not mobbed (woo!) and they had a breakfast burrito! Bliss. Vynl is mod, funky, and music-themed and has all sorts of musician action figures throughout the restaurant.
So how jealous are all of you that we got to sit at the booth with the New Kids on the Block action figures? I knew you would be!
We then headed up to The Met where we saw armor and weaponry and sculptures (finally!) and not everything but seeing everything is impossible. We walked through Central Park. We stopped, again, due to stamina and had a snack before heading to the Museum of Natural History, but thought better of it and decided to rest our feet back at the apartment and possibly take naps.
I didn't feel good at all. I think I ate something wrong. Or didn't eat enough. Or my sugar was just weird. I totally passed out while WC wandered around Times Square. D woke me up and I still felt bizarre. I tried having a salad, but it didn't really help.
I tried to pick a restaurant for dinner but I had a hard time. I was determined to find tapas, in the East Village, for WC. I tried to make reservations, I looked at 438 menus on menupages.com. We finally decided on a Brazilian place on 1st or A. I can't remember. By the time we were seated it was 10:00. We had lovely conversation while drinking peach sangria. I had spinach/ricotta balls and then an endive salad with goat cheese and cocunut-rum-infused-bananas which tasted so much better than it sounds.
We were exhausted after dinner so headed back to the apartment and began watching Shopgirl, the creepiest movie of all time.
WC Came to Visit and So I Experienced NYC - Part I
Ah, yes, another visitor! Check!
WC was scheduled to arrive on Friday evening, but his arrival was delayed due to bizarre and unforeseen torrential downpours that started at around 4pm. I'd been trying to convince myself not to worry all day. Yes, weather.com said the weather was to be inclement but it was sunny! D said "There's no way it's going to rain. It's sunny!" "But but but..." I kept saying, but soon relaxed. When the subways started to flood I got nervous.
WC's late arrival wouldn't have been a problem had I not accidentally purchased tickets to a show that ended up being sold out. I was worried and wondering if I would have to find a friend who would be around to give spare keys to, who would have to meet up with WC while I was at the show. Luckily he made it just in time, and he, D and I ran out for some instant Thai food. We left WC behind and headed out to, gasp, New Jersey, to see The Stills and Rogue Wave.
The weather was still ridiculous when we left. Earlier in the day I'd asked D "Do you know how to get to Maxwell's?" "Trust me," he said. I was ever so impressed when he appeared at my desk with ferry and bus schedules! I said "I'd rather not take the ferry if it's pouring... I'm not good on rocky boats." When we left the restaurant, we decided to take a cab, because it was already 10:00 (show was at 10:00) and I didn't want to miss Rogue Wave. We miraculously hailed a van cab (woop!) who agreed to take us to Maxwell's, but had to get out when we realized the set fare was $44! We had him drop us off at Port Authority. D said "Do you have the bus schedule?" I don't know why he thought I would have the bus schedule. He was the one who printed it out and therefore would have had it. "No, why would I?" "I don't know, I thought maybe you brought it." "No, did you not bring it?" Of course not. Luckily he remembered the terminal from which of the 12 million terminals it was departing (bless him), and we were at Maxwell's by 10:20.
Rogue Wave - big disappointment. No lush production, no layers, nothing. Live its generic saccharine pop played by a guy who looks like he should attend Hampshire College. Devastated, I was, as I am a huge fan of the recorded music.
The Stills, however, were amazing. Unfortunately I couldn't completely enjoy the show because they didn't go on until 11:45 or so and I am an old lady who hates standing for more than a couple hours at a time. The Stills are short. They are also amazing musicians. I was very impressed and wish only that the show had started two hours earlier.
A few notes on Maxwell's:
1. Good because it is not in NYC and is therefore not as pretentious. People were normal. People were dancing! People weren't at the show to be seen at the show. People were at the show to enjoy the show.
2. Bad because there is nowhere to seat.
3. Bad bathroom situation - no line formation for the women's room, just standing around hoping you might be next.
4. Drunk people. Wicked drunk. I rarely see such sloppiness in NYC, but perhaps because everyone is just getting started when I'm ready to go home. But it was, how shall I put this, sorority-esque sloppy.
5. Old guy dancing to Rogue Wave. Like a really old guy. Possibly 60 years old. Awesome, until he invaded my personal space with his crazy moves. Then I hated him.
We ended up leaving early due to stamina issues. On our way out, D asked the bouncer "Where does the bus stop?" The bouncer said "Oh, the buses stop at 1:00." It was 1:10. Drat! "We'll take the PATH," D suggested. "OK," I said. "How far away is it?" I asked. "I don't know - like a 20 minute walk." In the rain. Right. "Do you know the schedule?" "No. I think it runs every half hour," said he. "When?" "I don't know." Right. "Can we start walking to the PATH and maybe just maybe possibly I'll pay for it get a cab if we see one?" Agreed.
Many unmarked cabs passed us by. We were soaked.
Many buses passed us by. D was pissed.
We finally got a cab, $44 again, and waited while he got gas for twenty minutes. D raged the entire time against the bouncer, who he blamed for our misfortune. I kept saying "Dude, its our fault. We didn't bring the bus schedule! It's our fault," but no, it was the bouncer's fault.
We got home and poor WC had fallen asleep on the couch. He claimed to not have need for bedding as we'd be home by midnight his time, but he fell asleep anwyay. How much do I suck as a hostess? Tons.
WC was scheduled to arrive on Friday evening, but his arrival was delayed due to bizarre and unforeseen torrential downpours that started at around 4pm. I'd been trying to convince myself not to worry all day. Yes, weather.com said the weather was to be inclement but it was sunny! D said "There's no way it's going to rain. It's sunny!" "But but but..." I kept saying, but soon relaxed. When the subways started to flood I got nervous.
WC's late arrival wouldn't have been a problem had I not accidentally purchased tickets to a show that ended up being sold out. I was worried and wondering if I would have to find a friend who would be around to give spare keys to, who would have to meet up with WC while I was at the show. Luckily he made it just in time, and he, D and I ran out for some instant Thai food. We left WC behind and headed out to, gasp, New Jersey, to see The Stills and Rogue Wave.
The weather was still ridiculous when we left. Earlier in the day I'd asked D "Do you know how to get to Maxwell's?" "Trust me," he said. I was ever so impressed when he appeared at my desk with ferry and bus schedules! I said "I'd rather not take the ferry if it's pouring... I'm not good on rocky boats." When we left the restaurant, we decided to take a cab, because it was already 10:00 (show was at 10:00) and I didn't want to miss Rogue Wave. We miraculously hailed a van cab (woop!) who agreed to take us to Maxwell's, but had to get out when we realized the set fare was $44! We had him drop us off at Port Authority. D said "Do you have the bus schedule?" I don't know why he thought I would have the bus schedule. He was the one who printed it out and therefore would have had it. "No, why would I?" "I don't know, I thought maybe you brought it." "No, did you not bring it?" Of course not. Luckily he remembered the terminal from which of the 12 million terminals it was departing (bless him), and we were at Maxwell's by 10:20.
Rogue Wave - big disappointment. No lush production, no layers, nothing. Live its generic saccharine pop played by a guy who looks like he should attend Hampshire College. Devastated, I was, as I am a huge fan of the recorded music.
The Stills, however, were amazing. Unfortunately I couldn't completely enjoy the show because they didn't go on until 11:45 or so and I am an old lady who hates standing for more than a couple hours at a time. The Stills are short. They are also amazing musicians. I was very impressed and wish only that the show had started two hours earlier.
A few notes on Maxwell's:
1. Good because it is not in NYC and is therefore not as pretentious. People were normal. People were dancing! People weren't at the show to be seen at the show. People were at the show to enjoy the show.
2. Bad because there is nowhere to seat.
3. Bad bathroom situation - no line formation for the women's room, just standing around hoping you might be next.
4. Drunk people. Wicked drunk. I rarely see such sloppiness in NYC, but perhaps because everyone is just getting started when I'm ready to go home. But it was, how shall I put this, sorority-esque sloppy.
5. Old guy dancing to Rogue Wave. Like a really old guy. Possibly 60 years old. Awesome, until he invaded my personal space with his crazy moves. Then I hated him.
We ended up leaving early due to stamina issues. On our way out, D asked the bouncer "Where does the bus stop?" The bouncer said "Oh, the buses stop at 1:00." It was 1:10. Drat! "We'll take the PATH," D suggested. "OK," I said. "How far away is it?" I asked. "I don't know - like a 20 minute walk." In the rain. Right. "Do you know the schedule?" "No. I think it runs every half hour," said he. "When?" "I don't know." Right. "Can we start walking to the PATH and maybe just maybe possibly I'll pay for it get a cab if we see one?" Agreed.
Many unmarked cabs passed us by. We were soaked.
Many buses passed us by. D was pissed.
We finally got a cab, $44 again, and waited while he got gas for twenty minutes. D raged the entire time against the bouncer, who he blamed for our misfortune. I kept saying "Dude, its our fault. We didn't bring the bus schedule! It's our fault," but no, it was the bouncer's fault.
We got home and poor WC had fallen asleep on the couch. He claimed to not have need for bedding as we'd be home by midnight his time, but he fell asleep anwyay. How much do I suck as a hostess? Tons.
Invisibility
I had this weird panic at lunch today.
There's a ChineseBurritoPlace near work where I customarily purchase disgusting but oversized burritos (8 pounds of food, I swear) for $5.05, including a drink. The people who work behind the counter are nuts. Before you even have a chance to look at the menu, they scream "MAYIHELPYOU?!" Seriously. They scream. They're hyper but efficient. They know that people always order the same thing, so there's no sense in waiting.
So I go in this afternoon, and there's four people behind the counter - two screamers, a cook, and a girl who's actually mellow. There is nobody else at the counter except me. I'm staring at all of them and they all looked right through me! And not like they were purposefully ignoring me. It was like I wasn't there!
This went on for about a minute, and I didn't know what to do. They had to have known I was there. They were all standing like 6 inches away from me, and how could they all be completely unattentive at the same time?
And it's not like they were ignoring me on purpose. They just didn't see me!
I didn't want to be all "Umm... excuse me?" They had to know I was there!
Then I thought "What if I've turned invisible?"
I quickly dismissed the idea, but then kept thinking "What if? Seriously, what if you could turn invisible in the same way that you like break out in a rash or something?"
How would you even know if you'd turned invisible in NYC? It's normal to be ignored, to be walked into, to be unnoticed. You wouldn't know if you were invisible!
Yeah.
I think New York is making me crazy.
There's a ChineseBurritoPlace near work where I customarily purchase disgusting but oversized burritos (8 pounds of food, I swear) for $5.05, including a drink. The people who work behind the counter are nuts. Before you even have a chance to look at the menu, they scream "MAYIHELPYOU?!" Seriously. They scream. They're hyper but efficient. They know that people always order the same thing, so there's no sense in waiting.
So I go in this afternoon, and there's four people behind the counter - two screamers, a cook, and a girl who's actually mellow. There is nobody else at the counter except me. I'm staring at all of them and they all looked right through me! And not like they were purposefully ignoring me. It was like I wasn't there!
This went on for about a minute, and I didn't know what to do. They had to have known I was there. They were all standing like 6 inches away from me, and how could they all be completely unattentive at the same time?
And it's not like they were ignoring me on purpose. They just didn't see me!
I didn't want to be all "Umm... excuse me?" They had to know I was there!
Then I thought "What if I've turned invisible?"
I quickly dismissed the idea, but then kept thinking "What if? Seriously, what if you could turn invisible in the same way that you like break out in a rash or something?"
How would you even know if you'd turned invisible in NYC? It's normal to be ignored, to be walked into, to be unnoticed. You wouldn't know if you were invisible!
Yeah.
I think New York is making me crazy.
Jedi Mind Trick
I think I may be a Jedi, because I think it was I who miraculously convinced Father to take the family on a cruise of the Mediterranean.
Yes, folks, The Lar's will be going to Europe in August. Previously we have gone to Quebec (with Father on business), New Hampshire, and Orlando. I had been on a plane a total of three times before college. Father took us on a cruise of the Caribbean in 1999 when his mother gave him his inheritance before he died. I promised myself then that I would never go on another trip with The Parents. He's just gotten a lovely new job after having been laid off yet again and for some reason has revamped his entire philosophy regarding all things monetary (read: cheap) and is taking us on a cruise of Italy!!! Needless to say I have revamped my philosophy regarding trips with parents (read: free trip to Europe? duh).
How very exciting, and how very, very, very bizarre.
Yes, folks, The Lar's will be going to Europe in August. Previously we have gone to Quebec (with Father on business), New Hampshire, and Orlando. I had been on a plane a total of three times before college. Father took us on a cruise of the Caribbean in 1999 when his mother gave him his inheritance before he died. I promised myself then that I would never go on another trip with The Parents. He's just gotten a lovely new job after having been laid off yet again and for some reason has revamped his entire philosophy regarding all things monetary (read: cheap) and is taking us on a cruise of Italy!!! Needless to say I have revamped my philosophy regarding trips with parents (read: free trip to Europe? duh).
How very exciting, and how very, very, very bizarre.
Food Log
I have to keep a food log.
What I really want to do is keep two food logs, one list of what I'm actually eating and one list of what I'd like to be eating.
The actual list is water and salads and scrambled eggs and fruits and vegetables and beans and cheeses and one abberant Mr. Softee ice cream cone because I could not resist. I had a friend in from out of town! I was hosting! I deserved it!
The other list would have things like hash browns, potato knishes, tater tots, mashed potatoes, bread, cookies, some more cookies, and also cookies, cheez-its, ice cream, juice, cocktails, etc.
I recommend the food log for everyone, though. It's actually kind of fun, and you start to feel guilty. The Mr. Softee cone is just staring at me. I hope the nutritionist doesn't give me a hard time, because then I'll have to be like "Dude, do you know how hard it is for me to NOT EAT MR. SOFTEE!?! That bastard drives his truck by my apartment TWICE A NIGHT AND I NEVER BUY ANYTHING FROM HIM BUT DON'T YOU THINK I WANT A SPIDERMAN ON A STICK!?"
What I really want to do is keep two food logs, one list of what I'm actually eating and one list of what I'd like to be eating.
The actual list is water and salads and scrambled eggs and fruits and vegetables and beans and cheeses and one abberant Mr. Softee ice cream cone because I could not resist. I had a friend in from out of town! I was hosting! I deserved it!
The other list would have things like hash browns, potato knishes, tater tots, mashed potatoes, bread, cookies, some more cookies, and also cookies, cheez-its, ice cream, juice, cocktails, etc.
I recommend the food log for everyone, though. It's actually kind of fun, and you start to feel guilty. The Mr. Softee cone is just staring at me. I hope the nutritionist doesn't give me a hard time, because then I'll have to be like "Dude, do you know how hard it is for me to NOT EAT MR. SOFTEE!?! That bastard drives his truck by my apartment TWICE A NIGHT AND I NEVER BUY ANYTHING FROM HIM BUT DON'T YOU THINK I WANT A SPIDERMAN ON A STICK!?"
Monday, June 05, 2006
You See....
... the thing is that I'd much rather be alone than be around people when it is not noticeable to the people that I am there. I'd rather be a hermit than be ignored. I'd rather be self-sufficient than unimportant. Sometimes I don't want to compromise. Sometimes I want to be selfish and do what I want to do. I am better at this than most people, because I paid a lot of money to learn how to be selfish, but it makes me feel like such a jerk. But I think I'd rather feel like a jerk than feel invisible.
Friday, June 02, 2006
I Want A Potato Knish This Minute
Been away from blogging for a bit.
This is because I am working too much. I shouldn't complain - I am paid to work and not to blog or read other blogs, but I miss blogging and other blogs! Nevertheless...
Here are some things that have been happening:
I've been having lots of weird dreams, many about losing my job. Last night, however, I dreamt about a hockey game. Brad Pitt was on one of the teams.
***
Magically I have stopped craving juice! The all-water beverage diet has become acceptable. I still, however, would give an arm for a cookie. Or a piece of candy. This world is cruel to people who aren't supposed to eat simple sugars. It's very difficult to eat out. I suppose this is all a blessing in disguise because it is clear that I will have to start bringing my lunch and will hence save money, although will be extremely uptight since I will have to eat with coworkers and will therefore be unable to relax at all during the day and more importantly will be unable to read. Why can't there be a quiet room anywhere? Even for the purpose of work! What if someone wants to read a paper in quiet? There is nowhere to go.
***
The other night I had the unfortunate experience of wanting to cross the street while a garbage truck was emptying the city's public trash cans. One good thing about NYC is that there is a trash can on every street corner, so there's no excuse for trash on the ground. Except, of course, when the trash-man picks up the trash can and drops everything out of it, empties what remains into the garbage truck, and then puts the trash can back without picking up the mass of litter he dropped on the ground. I didn't pick it up because I was in a rush, but seriously. Shouldn't he have?
***
As you know, many of my pet peeves involve elevator etiquette. I experienced a new one today. I got in, going down, on the 7th floor. There were 4 other people in the elevator. As soon as we started descending, one guy started frantically pressing "Door Open." I don't know why. The door was not going to open. And it wasn't going to open faster by pressing it repeatedly in advance. Maybe it would open fasted if he pressed it as soon as we got to the lobby, but why press it for the entire descent!?
***
Working like an idiot. I have to try all of these new techniques and experiments and can't focus on any of them, which means they will all fail. There's no chance. I am having advance-stress about this. I am also unmotivated because of possible job loss. Why work like an idiot when there will be absolutely zero reward?
***
We got to work on our own images last night in Photoshop class. This was a big waste of time for me, as most of the class is, as I could have been doing it at home, on the couch, which I don't get to sit on ever. Because we were working on our own images, people in the class started to be social for the first time. This one guy cornered the TA and they got to talking shop, and he said things like "They don't want to me to work in the city anymore. Do you understand what I'm saying? They don't want me to. I'm not supposed to be. Do you understand me? People will kill you in this industry. People want me dead, I'm not supposed to be working in this town. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Nope. Last time I checked being a photographer wasn't the same thing as being like a CIA operative or something.
***
WC is coming into town this weekend so I will get to play tourist. He wants to see the Statue of Liberty and I have no idea how to do that. And I haven't had time to find out due to franticness at work.
***
The Stills and Rogue Wave tonight in Hoboken! I mean The Stills and Rogue Wave tonight!!! In Hoboken.
***
D is awesome and taped the National Spelling Bee for me last night while I was at work. He is even more awesome because he called as my class was ending to say "I wanted to come and meet you at class with your umbrella because its raining, but I can't find your umbrella. Call me if you know where it is and you want me to come and meet you." I adore him. Fortunately I had my umbrella with me, and fortunately one of the things I love to do in order to de-stress is walk in the rain, so I walked home in the rain without my umbrella and felt sane when I returned. We waited for the spelling bee to end, and then began watching the tape from the beginning. I fell in love with this 13-year-old boy named Michael Chrystie, and once he was out I lost interest. We kept watching for a bit but I had a headache so I decided to go to bed and watch the rest later, but I accidentally found out who won so now all the suspense is gone. I guess it doesn't matter, though, because I was already disappointed that Michael Chrystie didn't win. These kids are genuises. It's insane. They did this weird thing where the parents would sit on the stage waiting for the kids to go out, and when the kids went out they would walk over to their parents to be consoled and would stay with them for the rest of the bee, but there were no chairs for the kids! Weird.
***
I haven't worked on the other blog either. Nor have I read or relaxed or really done anything I've set out to do since I got back from "vacation." Ugh. Next weekend. Next weekend I will be oh-so-productive and will feel good about things.
***
Have good weekends, kids! Until next week...
This is because I am working too much. I shouldn't complain - I am paid to work and not to blog or read other blogs, but I miss blogging and other blogs! Nevertheless...
Here are some things that have been happening:
I've been having lots of weird dreams, many about losing my job. Last night, however, I dreamt about a hockey game. Brad Pitt was on one of the teams.
***
Magically I have stopped craving juice! The all-water beverage diet has become acceptable. I still, however, would give an arm for a cookie. Or a piece of candy. This world is cruel to people who aren't supposed to eat simple sugars. It's very difficult to eat out. I suppose this is all a blessing in disguise because it is clear that I will have to start bringing my lunch and will hence save money, although will be extremely uptight since I will have to eat with coworkers and will therefore be unable to relax at all during the day and more importantly will be unable to read. Why can't there be a quiet room anywhere? Even for the purpose of work! What if someone wants to read a paper in quiet? There is nowhere to go.
***
The other night I had the unfortunate experience of wanting to cross the street while a garbage truck was emptying the city's public trash cans. One good thing about NYC is that there is a trash can on every street corner, so there's no excuse for trash on the ground. Except, of course, when the trash-man picks up the trash can and drops everything out of it, empties what remains into the garbage truck, and then puts the trash can back without picking up the mass of litter he dropped on the ground. I didn't pick it up because I was in a rush, but seriously. Shouldn't he have?
***
As you know, many of my pet peeves involve elevator etiquette. I experienced a new one today. I got in, going down, on the 7th floor. There were 4 other people in the elevator. As soon as we started descending, one guy started frantically pressing "Door Open." I don't know why. The door was not going to open. And it wasn't going to open faster by pressing it repeatedly in advance. Maybe it would open fasted if he pressed it as soon as we got to the lobby, but why press it for the entire descent!?
***
Working like an idiot. I have to try all of these new techniques and experiments and can't focus on any of them, which means they will all fail. There's no chance. I am having advance-stress about this. I am also unmotivated because of possible job loss. Why work like an idiot when there will be absolutely zero reward?
***
We got to work on our own images last night in Photoshop class. This was a big waste of time for me, as most of the class is, as I could have been doing it at home, on the couch, which I don't get to sit on ever. Because we were working on our own images, people in the class started to be social for the first time. This one guy cornered the TA and they got to talking shop, and he said things like "They don't want to me to work in the city anymore. Do you understand what I'm saying? They don't want me to. I'm not supposed to be. Do you understand me? People will kill you in this industry. People want me dead, I'm not supposed to be working in this town. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Nope. Last time I checked being a photographer wasn't the same thing as being like a CIA operative or something.
***
WC is coming into town this weekend so I will get to play tourist. He wants to see the Statue of Liberty and I have no idea how to do that. And I haven't had time to find out due to franticness at work.
***
The Stills and Rogue Wave tonight in Hoboken! I mean The Stills and Rogue Wave tonight!!! In Hoboken.
***
D is awesome and taped the National Spelling Bee for me last night while I was at work. He is even more awesome because he called as my class was ending to say "I wanted to come and meet you at class with your umbrella because its raining, but I can't find your umbrella. Call me if you know where it is and you want me to come and meet you." I adore him. Fortunately I had my umbrella with me, and fortunately one of the things I love to do in order to de-stress is walk in the rain, so I walked home in the rain without my umbrella and felt sane when I returned. We waited for the spelling bee to end, and then began watching the tape from the beginning. I fell in love with this 13-year-old boy named Michael Chrystie, and once he was out I lost interest. We kept watching for a bit but I had a headache so I decided to go to bed and watch the rest later, but I accidentally found out who won so now all the suspense is gone. I guess it doesn't matter, though, because I was already disappointed that Michael Chrystie didn't win. These kids are genuises. It's insane. They did this weird thing where the parents would sit on the stage waiting for the kids to go out, and when the kids went out they would walk over to their parents to be consoled and would stay with them for the rest of the bee, but there were no chairs for the kids! Weird.
***
I haven't worked on the other blog either. Nor have I read or relaxed or really done anything I've set out to do since I got back from "vacation." Ugh. Next weekend. Next weekend I will be oh-so-productive and will feel good about things.
***
Have good weekends, kids! Until next week...
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Long Weekend Too Short - The Photo Version
A photo from when D and I were playing "Let's drive around to see which house we would like to buy but never could because real estate here is ridiculously expensive." This is the view from the lawn of a new house (a group of lots, really) that is being built that we would like to live in:
The diner where, after much strife, I was allowed to eat a breakfast burrito:
The manufacturing plant with which we were obsessed:
One of the 70 or so photos taken while golfing miniature-style:
One of the many sculptures of eyes outside the art museum at Williams:
Another one:
Top of Mt. Greylock:
I liked this trail because it looked like an antibody: (yes, I am a dweeb)
Random field we found while lost:
I think this was the only time I was truly relaxed over the entire weekend. D and I were there completely alone, aside from the million catepillars that crawled all over us the moment we sat down.
The trail where we found the crying kid who was abandoned by his thug teenaged brother:
There are a million more but they are even more boring than these.
The diner where, after much strife, I was allowed to eat a breakfast burrito:
The manufacturing plant with which we were obsessed:
One of the 70 or so photos taken while golfing miniature-style:
One of the many sculptures of eyes outside the art museum at Williams:
Another one:
Top of Mt. Greylock:
I liked this trail because it looked like an antibody: (yes, I am a dweeb)
Random field we found while lost:
I think this was the only time I was truly relaxed over the entire weekend. D and I were there completely alone, aside from the million catepillars that crawled all over us the moment we sat down.
The trail where we found the crying kid who was abandoned by his thug teenaged brother:
There are a million more but they are even more boring than these.
Commute
He read Descartes on the train, cross for a reason he wasn't explaining because he is a man and won't talk. I'd been on to him all morning. "How's your back?" No response. "Is everything ok?" I attempted all manner of silly hand-holding techniques as we engaged in the rare and bizarre event of commuting together. Still nothing. "I'm tired," he said, though he couldn't possibly be tired after having slept eight hours.
At the morning seminar his mouth was downturned and he seemed un-him. It's so distressing to see his good nature disappeared. If he can be counted on for anything, he can be counted on to be happy regardless of what torture he has endured at the hands of others. I wrote him notes and drew him pictures, I even contemplated passing him a note folded into a triangle that said "Omigod! Did you see Adam and Jenny in the hall this morning? Can you believe her makeup? Steve looks like SO HOT today. I hope he sits near us at lunch" but then thought better of it because can you imagine if it went down middle-school style and the CSO confiscated my note and read it out loud to the company?
I can't stand his moods. And it's not that I can't stand them in the way that he can't stand my moods. He'd rather I just not have moods. He doesn't think my moods are justified. He doesn't think moods at all are justified. He thinks everyone should just always be happy. It's not that I don't like being around him when he's in a bad mood. If anything I like when he's in a bad mood because it reminds me that he is human.
I can't stand his moods because I don't want him to be unhappy. Ever. Whatever the cause, his mood is justified. Whatever bothers him should be stopped, not discounted. I wish he would tell me what the moods are about so that I can kill whatever it is that causes them.
After the seminar I worked frantically, hoping to get some work done before the next one. I saw him out of the corner of my eye going into another room, and decided not to say anything. "Do not ask him if everything's alright," I thought, reminding myself of how annoying it is to be asked that question when everything is, in fact, alright.
Two seconds later he appeared in front of me. "Hello," I said. "Hi!" he said. "What are you doing here? Do you need something?" I asked, suspicious of his presence in my workspace. "No, I just came to see you. I came to find you." "What's going on?"
Commence downloading of work-related stress and subsequent return of good-natured, happy, wonderful boyfriend who needed to talk to me.
Yes.
Of course I wanted to shake him and say "Why don't you always do this please please please please PLEASE?" And I wanted to hug him in the lab, but that would have been even worse than passing a note.
At the morning seminar his mouth was downturned and he seemed un-him. It's so distressing to see his good nature disappeared. If he can be counted on for anything, he can be counted on to be happy regardless of what torture he has endured at the hands of others. I wrote him notes and drew him pictures, I even contemplated passing him a note folded into a triangle that said "Omigod! Did you see Adam and Jenny in the hall this morning? Can you believe her makeup? Steve looks like SO HOT today. I hope he sits near us at lunch" but then thought better of it because can you imagine if it went down middle-school style and the CSO confiscated my note and read it out loud to the company?
I can't stand his moods. And it's not that I can't stand them in the way that he can't stand my moods. He'd rather I just not have moods. He doesn't think my moods are justified. He doesn't think moods at all are justified. He thinks everyone should just always be happy. It's not that I don't like being around him when he's in a bad mood. If anything I like when he's in a bad mood because it reminds me that he is human.
I can't stand his moods because I don't want him to be unhappy. Ever. Whatever the cause, his mood is justified. Whatever bothers him should be stopped, not discounted. I wish he would tell me what the moods are about so that I can kill whatever it is that causes them.
After the seminar I worked frantically, hoping to get some work done before the next one. I saw him out of the corner of my eye going into another room, and decided not to say anything. "Do not ask him if everything's alright," I thought, reminding myself of how annoying it is to be asked that question when everything is, in fact, alright.
Two seconds later he appeared in front of me. "Hello," I said. "Hi!" he said. "What are you doing here? Do you need something?" I asked, suspicious of his presence in my workspace. "No, I just came to see you. I came to find you." "What's going on?"
Commence downloading of work-related stress and subsequent return of good-natured, happy, wonderful boyfriend who needed to talk to me.
Yes.
Of course I wanted to shake him and say "Why don't you always do this please please please please PLEASE?" And I wanted to hug him in the lab, but that would have been even worse than passing a note.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Long Weekend Too Short - Part IV
- Woke up early in order to swim and go in the hot tub, but the weather was non-cooperative.
- Watched D devour all manner of pastries and chocolate muffins and juices and other continental breakfast items while suppressing overwhelming desire to cry and feel sorry for myself. I know it's not his fault. He can eat whatever he wants. But it is not easy, when starving, to watch someone (and everyone, really) consume consume consume without thought while you aren't able to eat anything. I wanted to leave, but instead sat quietly with him, not eating, while staring at the chocolate chip muffin. I don't think there's a way for him to be sensitive about this, and no, he should not have to suffer with me, but dear god this is not easy. It is easier now, though, after he offered later to come with me to the dietician in case I forget to ask certain questions and in case there is too much information for me to remember. It blows my mind when he is not completely oblvious, and I feel spoiled again.
- Almost threw a fit when we exited breakfast and the sun was shining, and there were 4 zillion kids swimming in the hot tub and all of the poolside chairs were taken by chatty tourists. D pressured me to swim, but I was all "Listen, I am so uptight right now and starving and just want out of this lame town with nothing to do so no I don't really want to go in the hot tub with screaming children and chatty tourists right now but you should." He did, and I bubble bathed again with my book until I almost passed out.
- Went to the Mass MoCA which was full of inaccessible art but at least it was something.
- Ate lunch at the Mass MoCA restaurant where I ate cheese and avocado and mistakenly drank a Guavatini and was drunk or recovering for the next few hours, craving carbs, and allowing myself a peanut butter cookie that helped for about 30 minutes and then ruined things for the rest of the day.
- Took scenic route to New Haven and how cute is old MA but there has to be a happy medium. I think real college towns are the happy medium. Ah, Northampton.
- Took train back from New Haven after D endured insane ordeal dropping off the car, but that's his story. Slept for most of the train ride after finishing Max Tivoli in tears.
- Put cheese on bread and ate it for dinner as there was no food and no motivation to procure it. Went to bed at 10:30, stretched out on the bed as though it was king sized. How quickly we get used to things. Woke up at around 4:00, sweating, consulted my clock and sighed when I saw that it was 82 degrees in the bedroom.
- Dreamt of putting together some party/meeting with hostile attendants.
- Woke feeling actually rested but not exactly relaxed. Ugh. No concrete vacation to look forward to. Rumors of Spain/England but I'll be amazed if the two of us pull this off. I hate being an uptight New Yorker who requires escape to unwind. I wonder if I'd have been so uptight in western MA had I gone there two years ago as a Bostonian. I feel like NYC has made me rather quick to experience moods and quick to resent anything that gets in the way of my being a serene individual. Would I have swum with a zillion tourists a few years ago? Yes, because swimming is swimming. Now nothing involving people has value, because my vacation was to get away from people. My vacation was to experience quiet. My vacation was to experience ease, something that was taken away by early-closing restaurants and teenagers abandoning little kids. Things were still a struggle on my vacation, and this is why I am still not relaxed.
- Looking forward to Labor Day.
- Watched D devour all manner of pastries and chocolate muffins and juices and other continental breakfast items while suppressing overwhelming desire to cry and feel sorry for myself. I know it's not his fault. He can eat whatever he wants. But it is not easy, when starving, to watch someone (and everyone, really) consume consume consume without thought while you aren't able to eat anything. I wanted to leave, but instead sat quietly with him, not eating, while staring at the chocolate chip muffin. I don't think there's a way for him to be sensitive about this, and no, he should not have to suffer with me, but dear god this is not easy. It is easier now, though, after he offered later to come with me to the dietician in case I forget to ask certain questions and in case there is too much information for me to remember. It blows my mind when he is not completely oblvious, and I feel spoiled again.
- Almost threw a fit when we exited breakfast and the sun was shining, and there were 4 zillion kids swimming in the hot tub and all of the poolside chairs were taken by chatty tourists. D pressured me to swim, but I was all "Listen, I am so uptight right now and starving and just want out of this lame town with nothing to do so no I don't really want to go in the hot tub with screaming children and chatty tourists right now but you should." He did, and I bubble bathed again with my book until I almost passed out.
- Went to the Mass MoCA which was full of inaccessible art but at least it was something.
- Ate lunch at the Mass MoCA restaurant where I ate cheese and avocado and mistakenly drank a Guavatini and was drunk or recovering for the next few hours, craving carbs, and allowing myself a peanut butter cookie that helped for about 30 minutes and then ruined things for the rest of the day.
- Took scenic route to New Haven and how cute is old MA but there has to be a happy medium. I think real college towns are the happy medium. Ah, Northampton.
- Took train back from New Haven after D endured insane ordeal dropping off the car, but that's his story. Slept for most of the train ride after finishing Max Tivoli in tears.
- Put cheese on bread and ate it for dinner as there was no food and no motivation to procure it. Went to bed at 10:30, stretched out on the bed as though it was king sized. How quickly we get used to things. Woke up at around 4:00, sweating, consulted my clock and sighed when I saw that it was 82 degrees in the bedroom.
- Dreamt of putting together some party/meeting with hostile attendants.
- Woke feeling actually rested but not exactly relaxed. Ugh. No concrete vacation to look forward to. Rumors of Spain/England but I'll be amazed if the two of us pull this off. I hate being an uptight New Yorker who requires escape to unwind. I wonder if I'd have been so uptight in western MA had I gone there two years ago as a Bostonian. I feel like NYC has made me rather quick to experience moods and quick to resent anything that gets in the way of my being a serene individual. Would I have swum with a zillion tourists a few years ago? Yes, because swimming is swimming. Now nothing involving people has value, because my vacation was to get away from people. My vacation was to experience quiet. My vacation was to experience ease, something that was taken away by early-closing restaurants and teenagers abandoning little kids. Things were still a struggle on my vacation, and this is why I am still not relaxed.
- Looking forward to Labor Day.
Long Weekend Too Short - Part III
- Awoke and headed to Mt. Greylock, the highest point in MA. Gorgeous. Serene. Too many people.
- Ate Indian food with tofu! Yes!
- Bought a Father's Day card even though I suck and don't know when Father's Day is.
- Went on a small hike to a waterfall but we didn't make it to the waterfall because there was a 5-year-old-kid by himself. I said "I'm worried about that kid," and followed him, although I wasn't too enthused about wading through a river with my camera anyway. It turned out that the 5-year-old was with his teenaged brother and his stupid friends, who just lost track of him. Dear god I almost lost my mind. Luckily there was a mother on the trail with her many kids and she ripped the kid a new one. Phew. I gave them dirty looks though, and asked D, who has weird ideas regarding non-discipline, if he would consider disciplining his child if his child ever thought such a thing acceptable.
- Headed back to the hotel where we didn't go in the hot tub because the hot tub was closed! Bastards!
- Decided, then, to go to an earlier showing of X-Men 3 after dinner. But oh! How do you get dinner on a Sunday in a sleep town? You don't! Because everything is closed! BASTARDS!!! We ended up being forced to eat at the Holiday Inn restaurant, which wasn't completely terrible but where they only have carbs on the menu. I got a grilled cheese that was spicey. Right.
- Saw X-Men 3, at a theater where people were instead seeing things like Poseidon and The DaVinci Code. I've decided that they were all seeing those other movies because they all saw X-Men the night it opened since clearly there is nothing else to do. Enjoyed the movie despite the absurd science, gratuitous mutants, lame dialogue, and nonsensical occurances.
- Ran into the stupid kids from the trail as we left the theater! The kept staring at us and possibly antagonizing us. We didn't know why. They kept saying things like "Oh, I love you" and "Oh, you're so beautiful" and just staring at us. D said "Were those kids antagonizing us?" "Yes." "Why?" "I have no idea. Maybe they picked up on the vibes that I wanted to kill them on the trail." "I don't think so. They didn't seem mad at us." "Maybe they recognize us as not-from-around-here and are intrigued and have crushes on us. Because we're thin. And different." "Yes, I think that's it," he said, in all seriousness. I felt old and uptight and wanted to leave for NYC immediately.
- I also felt awful from the sandwich and said "Do you mind if we stop by the supermarket to get something to eat?" Silly me, because it was CLOSED. And so was everything else. We drove all the way back to the theater to stop by a gas station, where I bought nuts which didn't help because it was a lost cause by that point.
- Went back to the hotel, put on bathing suit and robe again, only to find that the hot tub was closed, STILL.
- Ate Indian food with tofu! Yes!
- Bought a Father's Day card even though I suck and don't know when Father's Day is.
- Went on a small hike to a waterfall but we didn't make it to the waterfall because there was a 5-year-old-kid by himself. I said "I'm worried about that kid," and followed him, although I wasn't too enthused about wading through a river with my camera anyway. It turned out that the 5-year-old was with his teenaged brother and his stupid friends, who just lost track of him. Dear god I almost lost my mind. Luckily there was a mother on the trail with her many kids and she ripped the kid a new one. Phew. I gave them dirty looks though, and asked D, who has weird ideas regarding non-discipline, if he would consider disciplining his child if his child ever thought such a thing acceptable.
- Headed back to the hotel where we didn't go in the hot tub because the hot tub was closed! Bastards!
- Decided, then, to go to an earlier showing of X-Men 3 after dinner. But oh! How do you get dinner on a Sunday in a sleep town? You don't! Because everything is closed! BASTARDS!!! We ended up being forced to eat at the Holiday Inn restaurant, which wasn't completely terrible but where they only have carbs on the menu. I got a grilled cheese that was spicey. Right.
- Saw X-Men 3, at a theater where people were instead seeing things like Poseidon and The DaVinci Code. I've decided that they were all seeing those other movies because they all saw X-Men the night it opened since clearly there is nothing else to do. Enjoyed the movie despite the absurd science, gratuitous mutants, lame dialogue, and nonsensical occurances.
- Ran into the stupid kids from the trail as we left the theater! The kept staring at us and possibly antagonizing us. We didn't know why. They kept saying things like "Oh, I love you" and "Oh, you're so beautiful" and just staring at us. D said "Were those kids antagonizing us?" "Yes." "Why?" "I have no idea. Maybe they picked up on the vibes that I wanted to kill them on the trail." "I don't think so. They didn't seem mad at us." "Maybe they recognize us as not-from-around-here and are intrigued and have crushes on us. Because we're thin. And different." "Yes, I think that's it," he said, in all seriousness. I felt old and uptight and wanted to leave for NYC immediately.
- I also felt awful from the sandwich and said "Do you mind if we stop by the supermarket to get something to eat?" Silly me, because it was CLOSED. And so was everything else. We drove all the way back to the theater to stop by a gas station, where I bought nuts which didn't help because it was a lost cause by that point.
- Went back to the hotel, put on bathing suit and robe again, only to find that the hot tub was closed, STILL.
Long Weekend Too Short - Part II
- Woke up and tried to arrange accupuncture for my ailing boyfriend, massage for our stressed out backs, some manner of waxing but came up empty as we did not plan ahead.
- Decided instead to head to a recommended diner that claimed to serve brunch but did not. Luckily they had a breakfast burrito that was available all day, but only by request and only noncommittally, as in "I'll have to check with the cook..." as though scrambled eggs are impossible to concoct at 1:00 pm.
- Stopped by a weird manufacturing plant of some sort that enticed us on our way to the diner but had to turn around as it was "private property."
- Engaged in a hilarious game of mini golf where I, for the first time in my life, was slightly better than D at something. He schools me at all manner of everything, from music to art to life in general but when he said "I suck at mini golf" he apparently meant it, because I suck at mini golf but still beat him by a substantial margin even after having hit my ball straight off the course. Bizarrely a girl at another hole managed to get an accidental hole in one on our hole. We shared a laugh. We had much fun.
- Stopped by an ice cream stand and ordered smalls (cheating, yes, but I was on vacation!) that were completely insurmountable. We had to throw away about 2/3 of the ice cream in order to get to our coveted cones. This solved the "Why is everyone here so obese?" mystery that had been plaguing us all day.
- Headed into Williamstown to go to The Williams Art Museum, which was utterly lovely and perfectly sized.
- Blazed back to the hotel because D wanted to floss.
- Headed into Northampton (unchanged, thank god, because I couldn't have taken it had it been altered!) and determined, again, that we want to live there but what on earth will we do for jobs?! Headed to Turn It Up, which D deemd "a bad record store," and then met up with M, A, and H for dinner at Spaghetti Freddy's, where there was mysteriously no wait and where the breadsticks remain miraculous. Seriously. Yes, the entire contents of my dinner were dietarily unacceptable but vacation! I suffered for it, but it was worth it.
- Back at the hotel we passed out after attempting, again, to watch Clive Owen.
- Decided instead to head to a recommended diner that claimed to serve brunch but did not. Luckily they had a breakfast burrito that was available all day, but only by request and only noncommittally, as in "I'll have to check with the cook..." as though scrambled eggs are impossible to concoct at 1:00 pm.
- Stopped by a weird manufacturing plant of some sort that enticed us on our way to the diner but had to turn around as it was "private property."
- Engaged in a hilarious game of mini golf where I, for the first time in my life, was slightly better than D at something. He schools me at all manner of everything, from music to art to life in general but when he said "I suck at mini golf" he apparently meant it, because I suck at mini golf but still beat him by a substantial margin even after having hit my ball straight off the course. Bizarrely a girl at another hole managed to get an accidental hole in one on our hole. We shared a laugh. We had much fun.
- Stopped by an ice cream stand and ordered smalls (cheating, yes, but I was on vacation!) that were completely insurmountable. We had to throw away about 2/3 of the ice cream in order to get to our coveted cones. This solved the "Why is everyone here so obese?" mystery that had been plaguing us all day.
- Headed into Williamstown to go to The Williams Art Museum, which was utterly lovely and perfectly sized.
- Blazed back to the hotel because D wanted to floss.
- Headed into Northampton (unchanged, thank god, because I couldn't have taken it had it been altered!) and determined, again, that we want to live there but what on earth will we do for jobs?! Headed to Turn It Up, which D deemd "a bad record store," and then met up with M, A, and H for dinner at Spaghetti Freddy's, where there was mysteriously no wait and where the breadsticks remain miraculous. Seriously. Yes, the entire contents of my dinner were dietarily unacceptable but vacation! I suffered for it, but it was worth it.
- Back at the hotel we passed out after attempting, again, to watch Clive Owen.
Long Weekend Too Short - Part I
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.
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.
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.
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