Holiday Party #3 - NYC Has Become Unromantic

Michael Bolton is singing about Christmas right now.

***

I witnessed the most atrocious thing this morning. After getting off the subway at Spring Street, I was trailing a woman - tall, glamorous, perfectly groomed, walking with complete determination. So determined, in fact, that she decided to bust right through the emergency door rather than negotiate the turnstile with we plebians. I watched her do this, certain she'd turn around, horrified after having set off the alarm, apologetic to her fellow commuters. But did she? Oh no. She didn't even flinch.

I suppressed my commuter rage and looked to fellow commuters for a shared roll of the eyes or shrug of the shoulders, but they were nonresponsive, typical New Yorkers, completely withdrawn so as not to go insane.

***

The sort-of company party was last night. We paid for it ourselves since things are a mess and the party has been cancelled. The DJ wasn't starting until 9:00, so we hooked up our IPods in the bar. As we got more and more drunk, people wanted to dance, so I volunteered mine and put on the Going Away Dance Mix, September 2004.

Awwww yeah.

There's nothing better than hearing your IPod rocking the bar, seeing people smile, watching people dance.

It was a little weird, though, for a variety of reasons. Weirdness #1: Summer 2004. Old school. Toxic. People seemed unphased by the datedness. It tripped me out and reminded me of Boston. Weirdness #2: Thinking of being back in Boston because of music that reminded me of leaving Boston at my last company function before being back in Boston.

***

I know there are things that he doesn't know that everyone else in the whole world knows, and that these things are not personal. I know he loves me and I know he doesn't mean anything by these things. But lord sometimes I reach explosion points, and I reached one last night.

Ironic given that our anniversary is the company party.

People in relationships behave in certain ways. No, I take that back. People in good relationships behave in certain ways. I always thought that maybe I was being insecure or hyper-sensitive but when other people point things out to you, you realize you've been underreacting.

It's fine now, but it wasn't last night.

***

I am off tomorrow because they force you to use your unused vacation time or otherwise it disappears. Sweet!

***

Until next week...

It Has Begun

8.5 hours a day of Christmas music.

It's acceptable now, but next week... prepare for the madness.

Annoyed

It's not so much what he did that's bothersome to people. It's what he was like before it even happened, and what he's still like. This is what he doesn't understand, and this is why he will always find himself alone. He can't accept responsibility for any of it, and there is so much he has done wrong over decades.

It is complicated, annoying, and right now I'm enraged about money. I'm freaking out about the future. D and I had a conversation about the rent issue (and yes, it seems that the landlord is breaking the law but at this point we're so fried from being New Yorkers that it might just be time to leave) and things are going to change. And change requires money, and lots of it.

He owes me money. He is very good at playing the victim, but he owes me money, and to me its a big sum, a sum that could really help in this transition. To me it's more than money - it means less worrying, less stress, feeling less trapped, and remorse.

We have been talking about lines in the sand. We all have different lines. I drew mine a long time ago, before everyone else did. I said "This is what it is" and accepted it. But sometimes the line becomes a wall, and I don't want my wall to be money but I think the wall isn't money itself but what the money represents.

Because don't normal parents try to help their kids out with downpayments and things like that rather than contribute to their being nervous about money?

I think this is a valid wall, because why should I be kind and supportive and sympathetic when he can't be generous and reasonable to his own child? After all that he's done?

I am going to demand the money, and the result will hopefully be retribution. The result might be a wall, and that's not what I want. What I want is to feel about him the way so many people about their fathers, and he makes it impossible. And then he gets all pitiful and sad and wants us to pity him when its his own fault.

Ah, I love these sorts of moods on Monday mornings!

A better entry later...

Apartment Issues, As Always

I am back from Playa Del Carmen and things have quickly become the usual. Busy at work, stressed out in the city, smothered by socializing, freaking out about the lack of free time. I would give an arm to be reading on the beach right now.

We got a letter in the mail last night indicating that we have 30 days to decide whether or not we want to renew our lease on April 6th, 2007.

Wtf?

First of all, I think the landlord is doing something sketchy. The rent increase is a high percentage, and I am pretty sure our apartment is still stabilized given what we pay for it.

Second of all, it's not even December! How am I supposed to know what I want to do four months from now?

Third of all, how can I commit to this without knowing if I'm getting a raise this year? The increase is a significant amount of money, and combined with finally becoming legitimate and paying for internet, its enough to make me nervous.

Fourth of all, I feel like this is an intimidation tactic by the landlord. I don't like it. It really rubs me the wrong way. I've been reading a bit about it and it seems that with regards to rent stabilized apartments, the landlords are legally obliged to send this letter (albeit 60 - 90 days in advance, not 180) but we don't necessarily have to respond to it. Websites recommend leaving a paper trail because more often than not landlords are trying to screw you.

Fifth of all, the relationship pressure. For the love of god I have no idea how things will be in freaking April! How can I commit to something in April? As if it wasn't bad enough having every single person in Cancun ask us if we were married, and the resultant nervous shuffling, and the "Uhh... heheheh... " and the uncertain giggling. And then coming back and being asked if I'm engaged. And then being demanded to commit to living together for another 16 months.

I'm cross. I wish I was rich so (a) rent increases wouldn't be an issue and (b) I had a lawyer with whom I could discuss the potentially shady dealings of my landlord.

And I'm cross because I'm back at work, and busy.

And I'm cross because I'm already exhausted. New York destroys me instantly.

Much work to do.

Until tomorrow...

SPF 15 Packets From Work

I planned a light day at work so I would have time to contemplate fluid ounces and party cloudy weather reports.

I am trying to decide if I should check a bag or purchase zip loc bags. I don't even know if everything I want to bring will fit in a carry-on. The accursed camera(s) ruin(s) everything. As do the six books I am bringing. But I am bringing only bathing suits and light clothes and flip flops and possibly one extra pair of sneakers, because I refuse to pack fancy clothes and fancy shoes when going on a relaxing vacation. I think it will all fit in the small suitcase. But then the zip loc issue. I have to bring sunscreen and it kills me to have to buy it again when I already have enough to last me eternity given how much New Yorkers go swimming in the summer.

We leave tomorrow at 7:15 for my first ever relaxing vacation. I will be swimming up to the pool to get drinks and won't think that I am a dweeb, because I won't be thinking about anything at all! I would be really excited about this if I had any energy, but boring days at work drain me.

I am also busily contemplating a pet peeve of mine, which is when someone says "I will call you on such-and-such-a-day at such-and-such-a-time" and then don't! Why do that to someone? I realize this is to make the person feel better about himself or herself, but it makes the other person feel terrible because they will ultimately be disappointed after looking forward to something. Someone promised something yesterday and we are all freaking out today because we still haven't heard. I really wanted to wrap this up before leaving for vacation, but I guess I'll have to remain hanging. I hate when people tease.

Teasing is definitely in my top 5 pet peeves.

Another pet peeve of mine is when there are 4 zillion available seats on the subway and someone chooses to sit right next to me.

Still another is the promise of a petite line online, only to learn that most pants are not available in petite, and even when they are, and you put them in your cart at 6:00 one night because you don't have time to order them, they are no longer available by the following morning. Where can a girl get a pair of black pants for the love of god!?

I'm not sure how I feel about skinny pants. Inherently I think that they are hideous, but I have this suspicion that they may look half decent on me because they might not actually be skinny. I wouldn't know, though, because I can't find any that fit.

One pet love is when a CD you ordered arrives way sooner than you expected, and before vacation! Yeah!

Another pet love is online quizzes. Apparently I know nothing about the factors that predict whether or not a marriage will work. I think the only question I got right was about whether it was easier for a person who grew up with divorced parents or a person who grew up with fighting/lame/mismatched/neurotic/codependent/poor role model parents to maintain healthy relationships/marriages as adults.

One pet peeve is poor communication, and another is sole responsibility for communicating. There are so many things that I don't know about him that he knows about me, such as career aspirations. How can I not know these things?

Another pet love is jokes at work. Somebody sent me an email yesterday just to mess with me, and it made my week. Of course I subsequently had a dream about him that woke me up with a start. And then, of course, I had another and another. I know what it all means.

I was thinking about Father Figure as a concept (not as a song) on the way to work this morning. Why do some people look for it and others retreat from it? If you're not used to being taken care of, you either desperately want someone to take care of and pay attention to you or you get annoyed when someone takes care of you or pays too much attention to you. I think in relationships I end up being the latter and choose men who won't even notice me because that's what I grew up with (and then ultimately get annoyed that he's too busy or not listening to what I say or not paying attention to the relationship, even though this is ultimately what I selected him for in the first place), but then I dream about someone totally different.

A pet love is doting fathers. I wonder how wives feel about that. It must be hard at the beginning, but maybe you don't even notice because you're too busy doting too.

OK. I am going to stop now because I need to walk a bit so I don't fall asleep.

I'm off to Mexico, kids, so the blog won't be back until the Monday after Thanksgiving as I am officially without internet at home. Darn you, savvy neighbors, for shutting me out! I deserve it, and I shouldn't complain, but its making me sad. So no blog, no photos, no music. Nothing. I had no idea how much of my existence had been transferred to the web. Weird.

Enjoy Thanksgiving and time with your families!

Until next time...

My Tuesday Night

6:00 Left work, starving, but excited about low-carb broccoli casserole!

6:10 Went to CVS and in order to use fabulous $4 off any purchase of $20 or more ended up buying more than intended.

6:30 Took train to Amish Market.

6:45 Lugged CVS bags to Amish Market in the rain.

6:46 Maneuvered around Amish Market like insane person with CVS bags.

6:55 Denied cream of celery soup!

7:00 Purchased potato/leek soup as substitute as potato/leek soup tends to be more creamy than potato-y when purchased in can or box form.

7:05 Lugged CVS bags and many Amish Market bags home in the now pouring rain.

7:13 Changed clothes.

7:15 Set stove for 325. Encountered difficulty when actual temperature of oven was 450. Screamed a few times.

7:30 Assembled broccoli casserole with finesse!

7:40 Screamed a few times more when opened potato/leek soup only to learn that brand of potato/leek soup purchased was basically a solid. Curses!

7:45 Shut off oven (now a perfect 325).

7:55 Walked to three convenience stores in torrential downpours.

8:00 Swam to Food Emporium and bought only cream of celery soup, and thought I should be allowed to steal it because dear god I didn’t want to wait in line to purchase one freaking can of soup given the night I’d been having.

8:04 Greeted by annoyed look by cashier who perhaps disapproved of single can of soup purchase.

8:10 Swam home.

8:12 Changed again.

8:13 Turned stove dial to point where temperature had previously yielded 325.

8:15 Finished casserole half-recipe only to learn that it wasn’t nearly enough food for a meal (or volume to actually fill the small casserole dish).

8:20 Remade casserole.

8:25 Waited for stupid freaking stove to be 325, because at this point it decided not to go above 250.

8:30 Put casserole in.

9:15 Checked with knife – hadn’t cooked at all! OF COURSE!

9:16 Turned up heat.

9:36 Still hadn’t cooked at all!

9:40 – 9:50 Checked again! And then again! And then still again!

STARVING TO DEATH!

10:00 Ate Lucky Charms and salad and cooked casserole for another half an hour on 425 (because yes, 325 actually seems really low and no, I will never ever ever make a broccoli casserole involving eggs ever ever again).

10:20 D ate casserole and didn’t die, so eggs were most likely cooked.

Last night I made goat cheese ravioli with a sage/butter/cream sauce with chunks of butternut squash and was reassured that at time cooking works.

SuSuSudio

$20 for a Phil Collins in inconsequential compared to how happy it made him.

Umbrellas

Why do all the awesome umbrellas have to be from the UK? I just found foud umbrellas that I really want but it costs more to ship them than the cost of four umbrellas. I can rationalize buying four umbrellas because I will lose them all within one year's time, and a girl needs replacement umbrellas in this town!

The weekend was good. Real good.

It started Thursday night with D's friends, one visiting from Madrid and one from Santa Barbera. Both were delightful. We ate dinner out and had drinks and walked through Times Square and went to the Mac Store where they both bought the new Shuffle and then to Max Brenner(if there is such a thing as too much chocolate, this is it) and then home where their attitudes were lovely about participating in my new art project.

I took a half day on Friday as Sister originally planned to arrive by noon. She didn't, so I had time to read and clean the bathroom.

The main theme of the weekend (aside from Sibling Awesomeness!) was piss poor service. We ate dinner at Roberto Passon, which was previously awesome but is now low on the list. Well, not so. I'll still eat there because the food is amazing - pumpkin sage ravioli, folks - but still. We waited for 20 minutes for a table, and when we sat down, weren't served for 30 minutes. Which would have been acceptable given how crowded it was, except that the table next to us, which was seated ten minutes after us, received their drinks, bread, spreads, and appetizers before anyone even gave us water. There was also the Curb Your Enthusiasm moment when the waiter was chatting with them and had his butt on my bread. The waiter never brought us an ice bucket for our white wine (again, not a big deal except that he said he'd bring one), we had to ask for spreads for the bread, and when we asked for more it never came. Sister and I are lightweights, and were asleep by 10:30 thanks to the wine.

We slept in on Saturday (Sister got 11 hours!), chatted, listened to old mix CDs and remembered how things used to be. We got dressed and had brunch at 44 SW, which is great because of homemade mini muffins but we got stranded because the absentee waitress never came to get my credit card. Brother was waiting for us at Penn Station and we were late because of the bill issue. We ended up tipping less with the cash we had so we could get out of there.

We met Brother at Penn Station and took the 3 to The Brooklyn Museum, which was unbearable because it was running local. I had a New York moment where I nearly kicked a woman who's train etiquette offended me. The Ron Mueck show was amazing. We stayed to watch the documentary. The Annie Liebovitz show was also amazing, but it was too crowded to see everything. The watercolor exhibit was nuts in a good way, which makes me sad because nobody was looking at it.

Back in the city, we decided on an early dinner because we were all starving to death. We met D and his friend from Madrid at the newly renovated Film Center Cafe. We were seated immediately and nobody came to our table for half an hour. No water, no waitress, nothing. Poor Brother nearly died of starvation! When we finally ordered, we waited for a long time before the appetizer came. And then 45 minutes between appetizer and main course. We left a small tip, and did I feel bad? No! Because no restaurant experience that starts at 5:45 pm on a Saturday night should require two hours when there are no drinks and desserts involved.

We ended up being half an hour late meeting people for drinks at Hi Fi. I was blissed out by friends meeting friends, friends from high school, friends from MA, family, friends I'd only had for two days, friends from class, friends of friends, friends from work... I caught up with a bunch of people I hadn't seen in a while, and we headed to Sing Sing for the karaoke party of the century.

Amazing time had! Lionel Ritchie's All Night Long! NKOTB! Hot Hot Heat! Milli Vanilli! 80's songs galore! Drunkenness! Loudness! Shy people grabbing the mic! I kept saying "I have such an amazing life..." and realized that I don't want to move. Being settled is such a wonderful feeling.

Of course there was drama with the bill. I don't recommend trying to count $700 in cash while drunk in a karaoke bar when you're pissed off about having to pay an automatic 18.75% gratuity on a room where the freaking waiter only showed his face twice in 5 hours' time. We were freaking out. Sister was being assertive. I was appreciative but couldn't deal. NR told them that things were "unacceptable" but we had no proof that people had or had not checked out, and we had no idea how many drinks had been consumed. I won't go back there again. There are plenty of places in the city that may be more money but most likely have better attitudes.

We headed to the Automat where I had a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I could have stayed out for hours, but other people were tired, and I couldn't complain because it was 4 am. The Siblings and I took a cab home and everyone fell asleep instantly except me, buzzed from too many Captain and Diet's. My brain wouldn't shut off. I hate men when I drink and I was mad at all of them and therefore D for something inconsequential that was resolved within two seconds the following day.

The Siblings woke up and the three of us brunched at 44 1/2. We talked about family issues, the topic du jour these days that we all try desperately to avoid and had successfully avoided for the previous 24 hours. We're not on the same page but support each other anyway. We left an exorbitant tip because the food and service were exquisite. Brother actually shook the waiter's hand on the way out.

Sister headed to Grand Central to grab a train and Brother headed back to my apartment briefly to avoid the rain. I napped for about three minutes before D and his friend returned. I had a salad. D and I talked, as we hadn't been alone in what seemed like eternity.

AH and TE came over at around 7:30 to practice. Anxiety was high, but we have a plan despite not even being sure that we need one. We ate burritos, chatted off topic, and disbanded at the right time. I read for about 7 minutes and fell asleep by 10:30.

Tonight I shall cook a broccoli casserole and engage in the bizarre ritual of cooking a separate meal for myself while D has someone over for an entirely different dinner. They are having french toast, which is death for me without something else. I try to eat healthy when I am at home because I can control my diet in the house, which causes problems when D invites people over. I think its awkward for everyone, because once someone said "Couldn't you just cook something that your girlfriend can eat?" It was a very unhealthy weekend meal-wise, so I shall abstain from french toast. Plus, I had french toast for breakfast yesterday but rationalized it because it was smothered in fruit and stuffed with marscapone and didn't have syrup. My having the french toast is what inspired D to have it for dinner, but I think french toast, even if you could eat it all the time, is better saved for special occasions because its not the sort of thing you can eat all the time. I said "Do you think S would want the casserole instead?" "Probably," he said, but he never said I should also cook for S. I don't know. I'm not going to worry about it.

OK. I am going to stop blogging about french toast because I just wrote an entire paragraph about french toast.

Until tomorrow...

Interviewing

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

Is It the Alcohol or the Lack Of Humidity?

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

The weekend was:

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

Too Much Sleep

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

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

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

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

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

Headlines

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

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

Wondering

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

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

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

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

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

I am very excited about Borat and Volver.

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

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

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

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

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

Have wonderful days off, folks.

Blogging The Way I Used To Blog

Oh kids, am I emo.

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

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

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

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

Blah.

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

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

Awshummmmm.

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

Until tomorrow, my dear little Pringles.

I Feel Guilty

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

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

"What?"

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

"What? I'm sorry?"

"He! He lost his rye, see?"

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

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

Ah! He lost his ride.

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

But.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regardless...

I didn't open the door.

And how guilty I felt and still feel!

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

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

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

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

I just don't know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until tomorrow...

Blog Address Change

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

theelusivepringle.blogspot.com

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

Breaking In Is Hard To Do

Here are some good and bad things about the weekend:

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

Here are some not-wonderful things about the weekend:

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

My Very First Photo Shoot

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

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

Here are some of the results:



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

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

Rename The Blog Contest

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

I'm thinking of calling it The Elusive Pringle.

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

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