I am really sad about Anna Nicole. I don't know why. We all saw it coming. It makes me really sad, though, because she's the sort of person who kept trying and kept trying, in her own weird way, and ultimately failed because of being judged by this world.
***
The weather is still out of control, and I nearly screamed this morning when the light changed just as I got to the crosswalk and I was expected to stand still for a complete round of traffic. The horror, the horror.
***
The weekend is going to be busy busy. I was looking forward to burying myself under blankets and comforters and reading The Voice and fiction. Alas, tonight is drinks and dinner and tomorrow will be brunch and a movie and a museum and a show at Webster Hall and then more drinks. Sunday will be a movie and then buying stupid frames and then starting the car because it might be frozen and then some sort of road trip, and hopefully another movie. I guess that whole saving money thing only worked for a little while.
***
Although, I feel like its ok to spend money during one's birthday month. Well, I'll spend a lot of money next weekend for the party and during Sister's stay here, but then, after that, no money will be spent. Actually, I probably won't spend much money because I'll be in MA the next two weekends.
***
I wrote a letter to the hotel we stayed in at Portland voicing my concerns over something sketchy they did. I didn't ask for anything, I merely asked that they not do this to future people who stay there. The general manager left me a voicemail late yesterday wanting to talk about our experience, and that is enough for me. I don't even need to call him back, because it pleases me that he actually read the letter and actually cared enough to call. I will, of course, call, and it will be awkward and weird and will hopefully result in some sort of credit. We'll see.
***
Speaking of writing letters, I went out to dinner with some girlfriends last night and one of them recently took a class at a reputable school in the city. One of her fellow students disliked the professor, and basically told him that she couldn't work with him and demanded that he leave the class. And you know what? He did! I said "Did you complain?" The friend who took the class is very meak and non-assertive, and of course hadn't said anything. I would have been outraged. Can you imagine paying for a class and not really getting a class? Can you imagine being paid to teach a class and not teaching it because a student asked you not to? Is that even allowed? This deserves at least a letter, but my friend won't do it. I offered to write it for her, but she's not into it. I would be flipping out.
***
I'm tired. I got up at 6 am yesterday (D thrashing about looking for running layers so he wouldn't get ice on his body from sweat - the boy is nuts) and went to bed at 12:30 because I wanted to be at least semi-productive after Ethiopian food. I cleaned the bathroom and finished watching The Black Dahlia, which was lame but then I watched the bonus features because they had real photos of the crime and as much as I'd like to say I didn't look at them or find them compelling, that would be a lie.
***
I'm stressed at work. There is much work to do before a conference and The Boss, not knowing that my time is limited, isn't really giving me the guidance I need to make progress. It's not his fault, because he doesn't know, but it is hard for me to push myself when I'm not sure what to do and when my motivation isn't good work, but finishing as much as possible to make it easier on other people when I leave.
***
The hours have been longer than I'd like, and the work pace is intense. I wouldn't mind if I felt like I was developing my career or en route to a promotion or raise, but this is not the case. Well, I guess I can put all of this stuff on my resume (the poster, the paper) for when I get a science job to make some money post-school, but it's still difficult because my heart isn't in it.
***
Another source of stress: art. A friend at work commissioned an art project from me and told me her limit was $100. I was like "Sure, no problem!" and then concocted an art project that would, without my realizing it, cost around $100. It's because its two pieces that go together. If I'd been less ambitious and just done one, fine, $50, no problem! I didn't realize it, and one without the other would be weird so it's not like I can even sell one and give her one. The problems are these:
1. I bought too many supplies for the actual art. So that sucked, and I sent back what I didn't use but only got back $5 after shipping them back to CA. Bad bad bad.
2. The color scheme - I want a maroon-ish matte. Mat? I don't even know. Impossible to buy at stores. Custom-cut in NYC? At least $15 each, which means $30. No way. I found some pre-cut on-line with the right opening size, tried to order them, they would only be $14 with shipping, was thrilled, and then couldn't order them because the minimum order was $100. Ergh. I finally ordered them from Adorama, which is a few blocks from here, and they cost $5 to ship. I figured they wouldn't have them at the store. But that's annoying, and the openings aren't quite the right size so I may have to go back and rework the whole piece.
3. The frame - shadowbox frames are expensive. Who knew? And very hard to come by. Again I tried for a custom frame online but they are pricey and also you have to assemble them yourself, which is not something that I have time for. I looked online and found some at Adorama, so I went to order them and it was going to be an additional $13 to ship them! No way. I went to Adorama on Wednesday straight from work and got there at around 7:30 and they were closed, which upset me because it was freezing and I went half an hour our of my way to go there, twenty minutes of which involved walking outside. I went again last night after work and got there before they closed at 6, but they only had one frame. Bastards! They said they could get one from the wharehouse and have it for me today, but they close at 1:00. Wtf? I can't get there at 1! And they're not open on Saturdays. I am going to go to B&H because I think they have the same ones, so I'll go on Sunday and they better have them or there is going to be a major meltdown.
***
Best story of the week: yesterday morning, D was frantically looking for the keys to the CD cabinet. "When was the last time you went into the CD cabinet?" I tried to remember, and thought it was maybe over a week ago. "Did you lock it?" he asked. I explained to him that it never even occurs to me to lock it, because it's not intuitive to me to lock up media (although it should be, because our combined CD/DVD collection is probably worth at least like $10,000). I said "I don't even consciously register that there are keys to the cabinet, so I didn't lock it, nor did I lock it and move the keys." He was freaking out, and said "I wonder if someone broke in while we were gone and locked it and took the keys!" He was totally serious. Totally serious! I was like "I don't think so... you probably just hid them before we went to Portland." He kept insisting that someone broke in and locked the cabinet. He was all "What kind of person would do that?" "Did you check where you usually hide them?" "I just don't remember locking it! I don't think I did!" "But did you check where you usually hide them?" "I don't even know where I usually hide them... I must just be flaking out..." "What about the drawer?" "I think someone stole them!" "Why would someone steal the keys to the CD cabinet and not take anything else, including the laptop?" "I don't know... I can't believe someone did this..." And then he found the keys on top of the top kitchen cabinet, where he clearly put them because even standing on the counter I couldn't reach that. Hilarious.
***
I really should be working. It's going to be a busy afternoon so I'm taking advantage of the chill this morning, and am also still trying to wake up. Have good weekends!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The New Keanu
I have determined that Josh Hartnett is this decade's Keanu Reeves, and thus can I now watch and appreciate movies that feature Josh Hartnett. I started watching The Black Dahlia last night and kept thinking "Oh how terrible he is but I am strangely compelled to keep watching this..."
Where does this leave Keanu? I don't know. I guess it leaves him animated.
That is all.
Revision 1: Upon finishing The Black Dahlia I have concluded that perhaps Josh Hartnett (and overall terrible casting, as well as a horrid screenplay) is a force that can ruin good things. I don't think it was entirely his fault, though. Even Scarlett was bad in this movie.
Revision 2: I dreamt last night about starting photography school. I had a break between classes, during which I went home to my log cabin for lunch. D came to meet me (he was not living wherever I was attending school) for, well, um, you know, it was a dream, and in the dream D was being played by Keanu. Awshummmmmm.
Where does this leave Keanu? I don't know. I guess it leaves him animated.
That is all.
Revision 1: Upon finishing The Black Dahlia I have concluded that perhaps Josh Hartnett (and overall terrible casting, as well as a horrid screenplay) is a force that can ruin good things. I don't think it was entirely his fault, though. Even Scarlett was bad in this movie.
Revision 2: I dreamt last night about starting photography school. I had a break between classes, during which I went home to my log cabin for lunch. D came to meet me (he was not living wherever I was attending school) for, well, um, you know, it was a dream, and in the dream D was being played by Keanu. Awshummmmmm.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Obligatory Post About The RIDICULOUS WEATHER
It's cold. It's real cold. My tolerance for the cold this morning was approximately one half of a block, during which I thought "Oh, this isn't so bad. What's all the fuss about?" and then wanted to cry ten seconds later.
The cold is exhausting, and I want to eat all the time. I think I've been eating 2x my normal level of food consumption. Luckily I went grocery shopping on Monday so I've been consuming 2x normal levels of things like lettuce and fruit instead of cookies and chips, which is what I did on Sunday. Bad bad bad.
I think its supposed to be, like, 18 degrees tonight so that's awesome. It will be much like a sauna compared to this morning! I may even run an errand that involves walking 10 blocks out of my way. No, I won't, that's terribly ambitious, especially on one of those rare nights when I can go home straight from work without doing anything!
But the errand... no! It can wait until this weekend. I know you don't care about this at all, so here's something emo for you. My birthday is coming up - its an annoying year - odd, prime, that sort of thing - and I've been vexed about what to do. I finally decided that I would have people over next Friday, as I will most likely be out of town on my real birthday. I sent out an email today, and nobody responded except for D, who is awesome and funny and it would be fun were it only the two of us but still, what if nobody comes? I always think that nobody will come, and then people come. I am pretty sure Sister will be there eventually, and hopefully Brother, and maybe like three other people and I wouldn't mind something low key as long as the combination of people works well. I was thinking singalongs and board games and quality time in the apartment, since our lease is up in less than two months. There is the issue of a possible competing function for someone evil, who is going to be out of my life (mostly) in a few weeks. The enemy will unfortunately be in attendance at a function this weekend so I have to re-respond to the Evite and say that I am not going, because I want to avoid evil, as you all know.
In other news, I am going to be putting down a huge deposit on my education. Oh, the realness. The insanity. I comfort myself knowing that I can work for a year in MA doing stupid science and save the money back. Right. I can do that. Totally.
The weekend is shaping up to be chaos. I thought it would be quiet (matinees, errands, snuggling up with books and quiet since D will be at the party with the evil), but all of a sudden I am hanging out with M and E and R and S and D wants to take the car somewhere because maybe its frozen and that's not good. I need to return headphones at Target because they spark in my ears, so hopefully the road trip will incorporate a trip there.
Anyway. Boring boring boring. And are you ready to be more bored? Stay tuned for Portland... Day 2!
The cold is exhausting, and I want to eat all the time. I think I've been eating 2x my normal level of food consumption. Luckily I went grocery shopping on Monday so I've been consuming 2x normal levels of things like lettuce and fruit instead of cookies and chips, which is what I did on Sunday. Bad bad bad.
I think its supposed to be, like, 18 degrees tonight so that's awesome. It will be much like a sauna compared to this morning! I may even run an errand that involves walking 10 blocks out of my way. No, I won't, that's terribly ambitious, especially on one of those rare nights when I can go home straight from work without doing anything!
But the errand... no! It can wait until this weekend. I know you don't care about this at all, so here's something emo for you. My birthday is coming up - its an annoying year - odd, prime, that sort of thing - and I've been vexed about what to do. I finally decided that I would have people over next Friday, as I will most likely be out of town on my real birthday. I sent out an email today, and nobody responded except for D, who is awesome and funny and it would be fun were it only the two of us but still, what if nobody comes? I always think that nobody will come, and then people come. I am pretty sure Sister will be there eventually, and hopefully Brother, and maybe like three other people and I wouldn't mind something low key as long as the combination of people works well. I was thinking singalongs and board games and quality time in the apartment, since our lease is up in less than two months. There is the issue of a possible competing function for someone evil, who is going to be out of my life (mostly) in a few weeks. The enemy will unfortunately be in attendance at a function this weekend so I have to re-respond to the Evite and say that I am not going, because I want to avoid evil, as you all know.
In other news, I am going to be putting down a huge deposit on my education. Oh, the realness. The insanity. I comfort myself knowing that I can work for a year in MA doing stupid science and save the money back. Right. I can do that. Totally.
The weekend is shaping up to be chaos. I thought it would be quiet (matinees, errands, snuggling up with books and quiet since D will be at the party with the evil), but all of a sudden I am hanging out with M and E and R and S and D wants to take the car somewhere because maybe its frozen and that's not good. I need to return headphones at Target because they spark in my ears, so hopefully the road trip will incorporate a trip there.
Anyway. Boring boring boring. And are you ready to be more bored? Stay tuned for Portland... Day 2!
Monday, February 05, 2007
I Couldn't Take a Landscape Photo to Save My Life
Our trip to Portland got off to a confusing start when Brother was nowhere to be found! Our plan was to meet on the platform of the E train at Penn Station. Thankfully we both received a minor cell signal underground and were able to sort-of communicate through static. It didn't help, though, as we merely established that Brother was indeed not where he was supposed to be but couldn't quite figure out where he was. Penn Station is very confusing, so, empathizing with Brother's plight, I decided to go above-ground to call him. He had wisely gone to the Starbucks on 35th Street. Finally connected, we were off to JFK!
JetBlue - a joy! I'd checked us in online, so all that had to happen was Brother checking in his luggage (which you also do online) outside. It was a snap, and within minutes (literally) we were at the terminal. We ate delicious burritos (the JetBlue terminal at JFK is unlike the rest of JFK, in that it is modern, clean, and jammed with awesome airport food, including healthy-snack kiosks!), and then relaxed. And relaxed some more, as our flight was, apparently, delayed. We boarded half an hour later than scheduled, and then waited on the plane for some people who were delayed coming in from Rochester. They finally arrived, but there was congestion in the air so we waited for another hour or so.
Did I care? No! Because 36 channels of Digital TV is bliss for someone without cable. I didn't even notice we were delayed! I was far too busy watching the Top Chef marathon on Bravo.
JetBlue, I love you and your unlimited snacks and your TV and your explainations of delays.
I fell asleep during Todd Oldham's Top Design, and didn't wake up until we were right above Mt. Hood just outside of Portland! I gasped and woke D and Brother up so they could see. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I don't know if I'd have felt its majesty had I been expecting it, but the excitement of opening the window randomly and being right above something so wonderful made it the best thing ever.
We arrived only 45 minutes later than scheduled. We seamlessly claimed Brother's luggage, rented the car ($13 a day!), and were at the hotel within ten minutes.
We checked in, dropped the car off at the hotel parking lot (if this was a music blog - oh wait, it is! but I am unprepared - there would be sarcastic/cheeky/semi-ominous music playing here), unpacked, and went to sleep.
I had a hard time falling asleep after having napped on the plane. It was also like 23 degrees in the hotel room. Brother said that it wasn't so bad in the "living room," where he was sleeping on a pullout couch.
I have mixed feelings about the hotel. The room itself was good - it hadn't been renovated since, like, the 70s, so the retro chic was charming. It was more of an apartment than a hotel room. In fact, the three of us kept referring to it as The Apartment by accident.
Note the fabulous golden thermostat, complete with swan motif:
The stove was best:
It had buttons!
We received complimentary New York Times every day - awesome!
There was a ton of closet space - this was the closet in, well, the kitchen:
Best of all was this ice bucket - tiny, with tongs that go inside the lid:
Bad things about the hotel: dial-up internet in the lobby. Wtf? Ridiculous. Since the trip was so last-minute, we didn't really have time to figure out what we wanted to do while in Portland. I knew that I wanted to go to vineyards, and figured I'd just look them up when I got there. Nope! And even if I had brought my laptop, they charge $5 per 30 minutes for wireless internet access. And shady dealings, which I will discuss later.
On our first morning there, we ate continental breakfast (awesome) and then decided to drive to Mt. Hood. Since we couldn't look up directions on Google, we had to rely on the crappy map we had from the rental car place. Based on the map, we concluded that it would take only an hour and a half, but apparently the route we were taking was through small towns and was therefore super windy, so it took forever.
We stopped to grab rations and then drove and drove.
Here's a view of our sweet ride and Mt. Hood in the distance:
A shot of Mt. Hood from the car:
We drove through forest, and as we got higher in elevation, really deep snow appeared:
These banks are about 6 feet high:
We eventually realized that we were on Mt. Hood:
We found a lodge at 6000 feet and had lunch there as we were starving and starting to feel jet lagged. Yummy Thai-style wrap, grapes, chips, and carrot sticks for $8.75! Woo!
A view of Mt. Hood on our way back:
Sun shining through the mountains during our search for waterfalls:
We wanted to visit some waterfalls on our way back, as Mother likes waterfalls and requested that I take some photos for her so that she could hang up a large black and white print in her new condo.
We kept looking for the waterfalls, but we didn't see them anywhere even though the map said they should be nearby. We soon realized that we were looking at the waterfalls, and that they were, bizarrely, frozen. There was only one that was still falling:
We rushed back in order to prepare for Brother's Big Show! We stopped by the gallery for a few minutes, and then headed out for Greek food for dinner. We chose the restaurant based on the fact that there was a giant purple octopus balloon advertising happy hour outside. They also had octopus lamps:
We ordered a sampler plate for $27. Yet another meal under $10.
The show was great. I was (am) so proud of Brother. It looked great in the gallery, which was a cool alternative space where the gallerist lives. Apparently this is the thing to do in Portland. Most of the galleries we visited that night (it was First Thursday in Portland) were also live/work spaces.
The gallery experience was nice. It wasn't as snobby/elite as it is in NYC. It seemed like everyone in Portland was out at the galleries that night. It's accessible to everyone. Nobody was having super-snotty conversations about art, and the spaces weren't afraid to show things like comic art.
Additionally, everyone was super nice. Everyone was all "Thank you for coming!" and smiling, and talking, and holding doors open, talking in lines to the restrooms, and just being sweet. Such contrast to the life I live now. D and I had a conversation about how our immediate reaction is to be cynical about strangers talking to us, and how it would be an adjustment (albeit a nice one) to live in a place like Portland where you don't have to resort to suspicion.
D and I left Brother's show to check out the other galleries, but it was cold and we had been on our feet for three hours (two of my toes were numb), and I'd been carrying my photo equipment. The jet lag hit us, and we decided to leave Brother and go back to the hotel room, where we promptly fell asleep.
JetBlue - a joy! I'd checked us in online, so all that had to happen was Brother checking in his luggage (which you also do online) outside. It was a snap, and within minutes (literally) we were at the terminal. We ate delicious burritos (the JetBlue terminal at JFK is unlike the rest of JFK, in that it is modern, clean, and jammed with awesome airport food, including healthy-snack kiosks!), and then relaxed. And relaxed some more, as our flight was, apparently, delayed. We boarded half an hour later than scheduled, and then waited on the plane for some people who were delayed coming in from Rochester. They finally arrived, but there was congestion in the air so we waited for another hour or so.
Did I care? No! Because 36 channels of Digital TV is bliss for someone without cable. I didn't even notice we were delayed! I was far too busy watching the Top Chef marathon on Bravo.
JetBlue, I love you and your unlimited snacks and your TV and your explainations of delays.
I fell asleep during Todd Oldham's Top Design, and didn't wake up until we were right above Mt. Hood just outside of Portland! I gasped and woke D and Brother up so they could see. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I don't know if I'd have felt its majesty had I been expecting it, but the excitement of opening the window randomly and being right above something so wonderful made it the best thing ever.
We arrived only 45 minutes later than scheduled. We seamlessly claimed Brother's luggage, rented the car ($13 a day!), and were at the hotel within ten minutes.
We checked in, dropped the car off at the hotel parking lot (if this was a music blog - oh wait, it is! but I am unprepared - there would be sarcastic/cheeky/semi-ominous music playing here), unpacked, and went to sleep.
I had a hard time falling asleep after having napped on the plane. It was also like 23 degrees in the hotel room. Brother said that it wasn't so bad in the "living room," where he was sleeping on a pullout couch.
I have mixed feelings about the hotel. The room itself was good - it hadn't been renovated since, like, the 70s, so the retro chic was charming. It was more of an apartment than a hotel room. In fact, the three of us kept referring to it as The Apartment by accident.
Note the fabulous golden thermostat, complete with swan motif:
The stove was best:
It had buttons!
We received complimentary New York Times every day - awesome!
There was a ton of closet space - this was the closet in, well, the kitchen:
Best of all was this ice bucket - tiny, with tongs that go inside the lid:
Bad things about the hotel: dial-up internet in the lobby. Wtf? Ridiculous. Since the trip was so last-minute, we didn't really have time to figure out what we wanted to do while in Portland. I knew that I wanted to go to vineyards, and figured I'd just look them up when I got there. Nope! And even if I had brought my laptop, they charge $5 per 30 minutes for wireless internet access. And shady dealings, which I will discuss later.
On our first morning there, we ate continental breakfast (awesome) and then decided to drive to Mt. Hood. Since we couldn't look up directions on Google, we had to rely on the crappy map we had from the rental car place. Based on the map, we concluded that it would take only an hour and a half, but apparently the route we were taking was through small towns and was therefore super windy, so it took forever.
We stopped to grab rations and then drove and drove.
Here's a view of our sweet ride and Mt. Hood in the distance:
A shot of Mt. Hood from the car:
We drove through forest, and as we got higher in elevation, really deep snow appeared:
These banks are about 6 feet high:
We eventually realized that we were on Mt. Hood:
We found a lodge at 6000 feet and had lunch there as we were starving and starting to feel jet lagged. Yummy Thai-style wrap, grapes, chips, and carrot sticks for $8.75! Woo!
A view of Mt. Hood on our way back:
Sun shining through the mountains during our search for waterfalls:
We wanted to visit some waterfalls on our way back, as Mother likes waterfalls and requested that I take some photos for her so that she could hang up a large black and white print in her new condo.
We kept looking for the waterfalls, but we didn't see them anywhere even though the map said they should be nearby. We soon realized that we were looking at the waterfalls, and that they were, bizarrely, frozen. There was only one that was still falling:
We rushed back in order to prepare for Brother's Big Show! We stopped by the gallery for a few minutes, and then headed out for Greek food for dinner. We chose the restaurant based on the fact that there was a giant purple octopus balloon advertising happy hour outside. They also had octopus lamps:
We ordered a sampler plate for $27. Yet another meal under $10.
The show was great. I was (am) so proud of Brother. It looked great in the gallery, which was a cool alternative space where the gallerist lives. Apparently this is the thing to do in Portland. Most of the galleries we visited that night (it was First Thursday in Portland) were also live/work spaces.
The gallery experience was nice. It wasn't as snobby/elite as it is in NYC. It seemed like everyone in Portland was out at the galleries that night. It's accessible to everyone. Nobody was having super-snotty conversations about art, and the spaces weren't afraid to show things like comic art.
Additionally, everyone was super nice. Everyone was all "Thank you for coming!" and smiling, and talking, and holding doors open, talking in lines to the restrooms, and just being sweet. Such contrast to the life I live now. D and I had a conversation about how our immediate reaction is to be cynical about strangers talking to us, and how it would be an adjustment (albeit a nice one) to live in a place like Portland where you don't have to resort to suspicion.
D and I left Brother's show to check out the other galleries, but it was cold and we had been on our feet for three hours (two of my toes were numb), and I'd been carrying my photo equipment. The jet lag hit us, and we decided to leave Brother and go back to the hotel room, where we promptly fell asleep.
Portland Loves to Bowl
I am back from Portland. It was a joy. I seem not to have any jet lag, most likely because after arriving from the red eye I went to sleep for four hours and then still managed to go to bed (and to sleep!) at 11:00 pm. That works out to approximately 9 hours of consciousness yesterday afternoon. Woo! I don't think I ever really adjusted to west coast time.
The photos have been uploaded and are in the process of being dealt with. Once they are organized I will start posting them in all their glory.
It is annoying to be back. I get used to vacation and to living another life so easily. It doesn't help that it's approximately 5 degrees out there pre-wind chill and I am without cash and without groceries, which means stopping not once but twice on the way home from work to run errands. I think its too cold for food and money, but I want to eat non-stop when the weather is this way so I've no choice!
But yes, I had a great time. The city is small, cute, cheap, and surrounded by glory. The nature was best, the cheese factory a close second. One of my greatest pleasures is discovering new places with D. When we are having the same experience our relationship works best. This is why we love to travel to new places together. Hopefully next will be Japan, since the prospects seem bleak on the plane ticket and the job search.
More when the visual aids are ready.
Until tomorrow...
The photos have been uploaded and are in the process of being dealt with. Once they are organized I will start posting them in all their glory.
It is annoying to be back. I get used to vacation and to living another life so easily. It doesn't help that it's approximately 5 degrees out there pre-wind chill and I am without cash and without groceries, which means stopping not once but twice on the way home from work to run errands. I think its too cold for food and money, but I want to eat non-stop when the weather is this way so I've no choice!
But yes, I had a great time. The city is small, cute, cheap, and surrounded by glory. The nature was best, the cheese factory a close second. One of my greatest pleasures is discovering new places with D. When we are having the same experience our relationship works best. This is why we love to travel to new places together. Hopefully next will be Japan, since the prospects seem bleak on the plane ticket and the job search.
More when the visual aids are ready.
Until tomorrow...
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Negativity
A relative came to visit this weekend and brought with her an insane DVD that she recommended that I watch. This relative tends to be involved in various crazy (read: cult-like, quirky religious astral-plane type stuff) pursuits that I know have value for her but hold little value for me. I listen out of politeness, and know that she means well and wants to share positivity. I said I'd try to watch, but made no commitment. She said "I think you should watch it. If you do, I guarantee you that, well, let me make up something that you might want. Let's say, for example, you want D to ask you to marry him. If you watch this, I promise you that D will ask you to marry him within the next few months."
Now. This relative has been known to make such crazy predictions in the past and has, on occasion, been right. Yes, folks, I am making the bold claim that at times she is psychic.
Here is a good example: she took me on my first ever trip to NYC. This story concerns the second time she took me on a trip to NYC. I was miserable during the second trip because I was newly single and dealing with my stupid broken heart and being emo about it, and she said "I just have a feeling you're going to meet someone on this trip." I didn't meet anyone, but she said "No, you're going to. Maybe on the train back to Boston!" Right, whatever. But I did meet someone on the train back to Boston. We ended up going on a date the following weekend, which was terribly awkward because he was from RI and on Date 1 he had to stay over (looking back on this, he did not have to stay over, but I guess I was being overly optimistic) and I ended up making him sleep on the couch because we'd been watching TV or something and he called someone "a cunt" and I was all "You're a dick" and then the next day he wanted me to go to the train station with him and I was like "Look, I don't like you. Please get out of my apartment and never call me again." I know what you're thinking - I am a prude, but seriously, who says that on Date 1? Lame people, that's who.
Knowing that this relative can be psychic, and wanting to, ahem, be possibly maybe engaged, I decided to attempt to watch the video. I figured I'd give it 5 minutes and then stop, just so I could politely and truthfully say "I tried to watch it but it was too hokey for me." I was doing an art project while it was on, so ended up listening to the entire thing as my hands were covered with glue and I didn't want to really interrupt the art project flow.
Basic gist of the DVD: positive thinking. Imagine it, it will happen. Negativity attracts negativity. Thinking about bad things makes them real. For example: if you are feeling sick, thinking about the illness at all will make it a reality. If you think about being healthy, you have a better chance at being healthy. That sort of thing. Obvious stuff, but I guess it's good to hear all of these things in a concentrated form that leaves you feeling wicked positive at the end.
I decided to embark on a path of positive thinking.
The problem with this is that we are constantly surrounded by negativity. Negativity attracts negativity. If you are negative, people around you will be negative. But, if people around you are being negative, how do you stay positive?
I talked to Mother last night and it ended in a brawl, because she was being so negative. I understand why she's being negative, she has every right to be negative and should be, but she doesn't understand that I put great effort in "being positive" about all of this nonsense and when she or anyone else reminds me that this is going on I turn into an emotional dragon who feels victimized and attacked. Mother has decided to fight, and I understand why but selfishly I know that her doing this is going to cause a shroud of negativity to cover my life indefinitely and I don't want it to. No, I don't. She is not to blame but I am allowed to not want things to be worse. She has the luxury of disconnecting. I do not. If I do disconnect, an entirely new breed of negativity will be unleashed that I will most likely be less able to deal with.
I feel like concrete negativity is easier to deal with than the imagined sort.
I come from a lineage of negativity (my crazy relative excepted). Mother is used to focusing on the negative. It was how she was raised, and she in turn raised us that way. I don't want to be hyper-critical. I don't want to be nervous. I don't want to be a dweller. I don't want to trap myself in bad situations.
This of course takes effort, and I feel like when I talk to either of them the effort has been utterly futile.
So, on Day 1 of being Positive, I went to dinner with a bunch of D's friends and almost left crying, because when you're trying to be positive you become intensely aware of the people around you being negative and it makes you so much more negative. Because it is really, really depressing to notice people trying to make you negative.
For example, a fight broke out because there was a discussion of potential places to move.
Person: Have you been to Seattle?
Me: No, but I've heard decent things.
Person: Like what?
Me: I don't know - cool city, depressing weather. Lots going on, but sad.
Other Person: What about Vancouver?
Me: Oh, I've heard GREAT THINGS. It's supposed to be really nature-y and there's a zillion things to do inside and outside and...
Person: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?
Me: What?
Person: How can you say Vancouver is great and Seattle isn't?
Me: What?
Person: I mean, seriously, how can you say that? What makes Vancover SO MUCH BETTER?
Me: I don't know. There's supposedly a lot of green and the mountains...
Person: That's RIDICULOUS. What a f-ed up thing to say.
Me: What?
Person: Seriously. How can you say that? They're like right across the water from each other! They're the SAME MOUNTAINS. They're just the same, how can you say they're so different?
Me: I'm just basing this on what I've heard...
Person: Well, its a pretty stupid thing to say.
Me: I don't think so. Just because they're in close proximity doesn't mean two places are the same. That would be like saying NYC and Philly are the same, and they're not. Plus, they're culturally different.
D: And they're socioeconimically different.
I think there was a new topic at this point.
I wish I had said "They ARE different because THEY ARE IN TWO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES."
Or I wish I had said "I don't think YOU know since you haven't been to either place, and in fact, you've only been to three places in your entire life and haven't ever been on a plane."
Or "Why are you yelling at me? You asked me."
Or "Does it really make you feel better to convince yourself that I'm stupid?"
I felt so negative. And I hated it.
Someone else was negative, and said things like "Why would you want to move to Boston? It's so boring. And conservative. And why would you want to move out of NYC? All the jobs are here. And you're going to have to get a big camera, do you know that? Why would you want to go to a practical school? Why wouldn't you be interested in art photography? Are you going to AP or Getty? Why would you want to do weddings?" Rolling of eyes, NYC superiority complex, etc.
What a dick.
I wanted to say "You know what? Your paintings suck."
But instead I became equally confrontational and left the dinner wanting to crawl into a hole. Not because my feelings were hurt, but because it is so sad to me that there are people like this, and that these people are in my life. I don't want this sort of negativity in my life anymore. Nope.
Unfortunately many people in NYC are this way. They think that they are better than everyone else, but they are not, and so seek to prove it in this way.
The dinner assured me that moving back to MA is the right thing to do.
I'm not on some spiritual quest, I'm not being "Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul-esque." I just want to be in a good mood all the time. And I can, if I don't eat dinners with condescending people.
The rest of the weekend (awkward dinner aside) was enjoyable. Had dinner/drinks with PW and NR and friends at the best new find in the world, only two blocks away from my apartment! Best. Tofu. EVER. And tofu cheesecake! And wonderous sake-tini!! Went to see The Queen on Saturday morning and forgot what Tony Blaire looks like in real life. Helen Mirren, as always, was a delight. Spent the afternoon learning the new flash, practicing piano, and waiting for my relative. We hung out for a bit, and I sent her off while I made art and listened to positivity and then read and watched some random cheese-tastic ballroom dancing competition. Went to brunch on Sunday am and then to see Wicked, which was ok but not impressive musically (read: the songs were pop-song-y, a la Backstreet Boys or early Christina - ewww!). Then it was the intolerable dinner and then something unremarkable, I guess, since I can't remember.
I'm off to Portland tomorrow. The flight leaves at 7:30 so I will probably be scrambling at work and unable to blog. Hopefully when I get back I can return to the days of photoblogging and share photos with ya'll.
Until nexy Monday...
Now. This relative has been known to make such crazy predictions in the past and has, on occasion, been right. Yes, folks, I am making the bold claim that at times she is psychic.
Here is a good example: she took me on my first ever trip to NYC. This story concerns the second time she took me on a trip to NYC. I was miserable during the second trip because I was newly single and dealing with my stupid broken heart and being emo about it, and she said "I just have a feeling you're going to meet someone on this trip." I didn't meet anyone, but she said "No, you're going to. Maybe on the train back to Boston!" Right, whatever. But I did meet someone on the train back to Boston. We ended up going on a date the following weekend, which was terribly awkward because he was from RI and on Date 1 he had to stay over (looking back on this, he did not have to stay over, but I guess I was being overly optimistic) and I ended up making him sleep on the couch because we'd been watching TV or something and he called someone "a cunt" and I was all "You're a dick" and then the next day he wanted me to go to the train station with him and I was like "Look, I don't like you. Please get out of my apartment and never call me again." I know what you're thinking - I am a prude, but seriously, who says that on Date 1? Lame people, that's who.
Knowing that this relative can be psychic, and wanting to, ahem, be possibly maybe engaged, I decided to attempt to watch the video. I figured I'd give it 5 minutes and then stop, just so I could politely and truthfully say "I tried to watch it but it was too hokey for me." I was doing an art project while it was on, so ended up listening to the entire thing as my hands were covered with glue and I didn't want to really interrupt the art project flow.
Basic gist of the DVD: positive thinking. Imagine it, it will happen. Negativity attracts negativity. Thinking about bad things makes them real. For example: if you are feeling sick, thinking about the illness at all will make it a reality. If you think about being healthy, you have a better chance at being healthy. That sort of thing. Obvious stuff, but I guess it's good to hear all of these things in a concentrated form that leaves you feeling wicked positive at the end.
I decided to embark on a path of positive thinking.
The problem with this is that we are constantly surrounded by negativity. Negativity attracts negativity. If you are negative, people around you will be negative. But, if people around you are being negative, how do you stay positive?
I talked to Mother last night and it ended in a brawl, because she was being so negative. I understand why she's being negative, she has every right to be negative and should be, but she doesn't understand that I put great effort in "being positive" about all of this nonsense and when she or anyone else reminds me that this is going on I turn into an emotional dragon who feels victimized and attacked. Mother has decided to fight, and I understand why but selfishly I know that her doing this is going to cause a shroud of negativity to cover my life indefinitely and I don't want it to. No, I don't. She is not to blame but I am allowed to not want things to be worse. She has the luxury of disconnecting. I do not. If I do disconnect, an entirely new breed of negativity will be unleashed that I will most likely be less able to deal with.
I feel like concrete negativity is easier to deal with than the imagined sort.
I come from a lineage of negativity (my crazy relative excepted). Mother is used to focusing on the negative. It was how she was raised, and she in turn raised us that way. I don't want to be hyper-critical. I don't want to be nervous. I don't want to be a dweller. I don't want to trap myself in bad situations.
This of course takes effort, and I feel like when I talk to either of them the effort has been utterly futile.
So, on Day 1 of being Positive, I went to dinner with a bunch of D's friends and almost left crying, because when you're trying to be positive you become intensely aware of the people around you being negative and it makes you so much more negative. Because it is really, really depressing to notice people trying to make you negative.
For example, a fight broke out because there was a discussion of potential places to move.
Person: Have you been to Seattle?
Me: No, but I've heard decent things.
Person: Like what?
Me: I don't know - cool city, depressing weather. Lots going on, but sad.
Other Person: What about Vancouver?
Me: Oh, I've heard GREAT THINGS. It's supposed to be really nature-y and there's a zillion things to do inside and outside and...
Person: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?
Me: What?
Person: How can you say Vancouver is great and Seattle isn't?
Me: What?
Person: I mean, seriously, how can you say that? What makes Vancover SO MUCH BETTER?
Me: I don't know. There's supposedly a lot of green and the mountains...
Person: That's RIDICULOUS. What a f-ed up thing to say.
Me: What?
Person: Seriously. How can you say that? They're like right across the water from each other! They're the SAME MOUNTAINS. They're just the same, how can you say they're so different?
Me: I'm just basing this on what I've heard...
Person: Well, its a pretty stupid thing to say.
Me: I don't think so. Just because they're in close proximity doesn't mean two places are the same. That would be like saying NYC and Philly are the same, and they're not. Plus, they're culturally different.
D: And they're socioeconimically different.
I think there was a new topic at this point.
I wish I had said "They ARE different because THEY ARE IN TWO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES."
Or I wish I had said "I don't think YOU know since you haven't been to either place, and in fact, you've only been to three places in your entire life and haven't ever been on a plane."
Or "Why are you yelling at me? You asked me."
Or "Does it really make you feel better to convince yourself that I'm stupid?"
I felt so negative. And I hated it.
Someone else was negative, and said things like "Why would you want to move to Boston? It's so boring. And conservative. And why would you want to move out of NYC? All the jobs are here. And you're going to have to get a big camera, do you know that? Why would you want to go to a practical school? Why wouldn't you be interested in art photography? Are you going to AP or Getty? Why would you want to do weddings?" Rolling of eyes, NYC superiority complex, etc.
What a dick.
I wanted to say "You know what? Your paintings suck."
But instead I became equally confrontational and left the dinner wanting to crawl into a hole. Not because my feelings were hurt, but because it is so sad to me that there are people like this, and that these people are in my life. I don't want this sort of negativity in my life anymore. Nope.
Unfortunately many people in NYC are this way. They think that they are better than everyone else, but they are not, and so seek to prove it in this way.
The dinner assured me that moving back to MA is the right thing to do.
I'm not on some spiritual quest, I'm not being "Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul-esque." I just want to be in a good mood all the time. And I can, if I don't eat dinners with condescending people.
The rest of the weekend (awkward dinner aside) was enjoyable. Had dinner/drinks with PW and NR and friends at the best new find in the world, only two blocks away from my apartment! Best. Tofu. EVER. And tofu cheesecake! And wonderous sake-tini!! Went to see The Queen on Saturday morning and forgot what Tony Blaire looks like in real life. Helen Mirren, as always, was a delight. Spent the afternoon learning the new flash, practicing piano, and waiting for my relative. We hung out for a bit, and I sent her off while I made art and listened to positivity and then read and watched some random cheese-tastic ballroom dancing competition. Went to brunch on Sunday am and then to see Wicked, which was ok but not impressive musically (read: the songs were pop-song-y, a la Backstreet Boys or early Christina - ewww!). Then it was the intolerable dinner and then something unremarkable, I guess, since I can't remember.
I'm off to Portland tomorrow. The flight leaves at 7:30 so I will probably be scrambling at work and unable to blog. Hopefully when I get back I can return to the days of photoblogging and share photos with ya'll.
Until nexy Monday...
Monday, January 29, 2007
Wicked Awesome
I went to see Wicked yesterday afternoon. I managed to get myself a cheap-ish non-obstructed view obstructed view seat. I had mixed feelings about the show - it definitely wasn't my favorite, nor did it live up to the hype. I am developing a concept of what I do and do not like in a musical, which will help me when I actually begin writing a musical. I'm not sure why I didn't like it - maybe it took itself a little too seriously. I think, though, that I didn't like the music. None of the songs were catchy. They were all content, no flavor. The performances were amazing. The set was ok. The love-interest was terribly miscast. It was a wonderful adaptation of the book. I have more to say, but a review is not the point of this post.
Before the show began, I read the program. I was psyched to learn that Steve from Married With Children would be playing The Wizard! How random! How wonderful!
Now. I've had quite a few celebrities who have seen me since I moved to NYC. Some have been good stories, others not so monumental. I bumped into Matthew Modine. I walked ten blocks with Woody Harrelson. I was stared down by Willem Dafoe. Annabella Sciorra let us through in the traffic.
Nothing prepared me for the bizarreness of Nessarose being played by the girl who is in the Yoga in Bed videos, which I own.
Weird weird weird. I think I had previously felt that the Yoga in Bed girl was my imaginary friend. Like we hang out in my bedroom in the mornings and at night, when she helps me to stretch out my body and to improve my mood. She isn't supposed to talk. She's definitely not supposed to sing and be in a wheelchair. She's supposed to pose on the bed and help me get into shape. Every now and then she can smile and hold the cup of coffee and reassure you that your day is going to be ok. She doesn't really exist.
Apparently she does exist. She lives in NYC and is a Broadway star by day, Yoga-inspirer by morning and evening. I wanted to give her the sort of hug I'd give to an old friend who granted me a huge favor the last time I saw her and for some reason I never got to thank her.
Steve and Yoga-in-Bed-Girl on stage together.
Wicked weird.
Before the show began, I read the program. I was psyched to learn that Steve from Married With Children would be playing The Wizard! How random! How wonderful!
Now. I've had quite a few celebrities who have seen me since I moved to NYC. Some have been good stories, others not so monumental. I bumped into Matthew Modine. I walked ten blocks with Woody Harrelson. I was stared down by Willem Dafoe. Annabella Sciorra let us through in the traffic.
Nothing prepared me for the bizarreness of Nessarose being played by the girl who is in the Yoga in Bed videos, which I own.
Weird weird weird. I think I had previously felt that the Yoga in Bed girl was my imaginary friend. Like we hang out in my bedroom in the mornings and at night, when she helps me to stretch out my body and to improve my mood. She isn't supposed to talk. She's definitely not supposed to sing and be in a wheelchair. She's supposed to pose on the bed and help me get into shape. Every now and then she can smile and hold the cup of coffee and reassure you that your day is going to be ok. She doesn't really exist.
Apparently she does exist. She lives in NYC and is a Broadway star by day, Yoga-inspirer by morning and evening. I wanted to give her the sort of hug I'd give to an old friend who granted me a huge favor the last time I saw her and for some reason I never got to thank her.
Steve and Yoga-in-Bed-Girl on stage together.
Wicked weird.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Fiance
While D was eating 10 cent wings that were not 10 cents last night...
(Aside: the sign read "Happy Hour 5 - 7; 10 cent wings!," the bill said that wings were not 10 cents, when we asked the waitress she said "It's half priced margaritas from 5 - 7, and then the wings are 10 cents at 7:00, is that a problem?," yes but we didn't say so, because in NYC you have to ask first or else you will be taken advantage of, but really, wtf? the sign said nothing about half priced drinks and clearly said 5 - 7 - i hate everyone!)
... he said "So when I wrote back to the guy (potential interview!) I called you my fiance."
Silence.
"I said that my fiance and I were hoping to move to Boston this year."
"Why?"
"I thought that it would establish me as more serious. If you have a fiance or wife people take you more seriously in the work environment."
"Huh."
Change of topic.
"But what if he asks you questions about the wedding on the interview to make small talk? What will you say?"
"I'll say we haven't really made any decisions."
New topic.
"But what will I say if you get the job and I'm at the company party with you and the people who have no idea what to talk to me about ask me how the wedding planning is going?"
"I don't know. You can just say its going fine."
Yet another topic.
"What if I start to cry when someone asks me about the wedding and we're not actually getting married and that makes me sad?"
Yeah. He definitely shouldn't have mentioned it to me, but I guess he had to just in case it ever comes up. It probably won't, even if he gets an offer and takes the job, because whoever the random guy is in HR to whom he sent the email probably paid no attention to it whatsoever.
Of course I wanted to be like "Thanks for using me as something to establish you as someone who is serious about his future when you are obviously a person who doesn't think about his future and who fears commitment."
Well, I only felt that way for about a second.
Mostly I felt like "Wow, he told a complete stranger in an email that I'm his fiance! He must like me a lot!"
Sometimes I felt like "I can't believe he lied to a potential future employer" but then understood why he had to, because it would be weird to be like "My girlfriend and I..." But why make mention of it at all?
And why do I care? I actually don't care, but I did last night, because I was imagining all of the ladies at the company party asking to see my ring and my having a total breakdown and being like "We're not engaged! We never will be! He can't commit! He's making it all up to be taken seriously in the work environment!"
Hehe.
I'm insane, but truthfully, today its because of the hormones.
(Aside: the sign read "Happy Hour 5 - 7; 10 cent wings!," the bill said that wings were not 10 cents, when we asked the waitress she said "It's half priced margaritas from 5 - 7, and then the wings are 10 cents at 7:00, is that a problem?," yes but we didn't say so, because in NYC you have to ask first or else you will be taken advantage of, but really, wtf? the sign said nothing about half priced drinks and clearly said 5 - 7 - i hate everyone!)
... he said "So when I wrote back to the guy (potential interview!) I called you my fiance."
Silence.
"I said that my fiance and I were hoping to move to Boston this year."
"Why?"
"I thought that it would establish me as more serious. If you have a fiance or wife people take you more seriously in the work environment."
"Huh."
Change of topic.
"But what if he asks you questions about the wedding on the interview to make small talk? What will you say?"
"I'll say we haven't really made any decisions."
New topic.
"But what will I say if you get the job and I'm at the company party with you and the people who have no idea what to talk to me about ask me how the wedding planning is going?"
"I don't know. You can just say its going fine."
Yet another topic.
"What if I start to cry when someone asks me about the wedding and we're not actually getting married and that makes me sad?"
Yeah. He definitely shouldn't have mentioned it to me, but I guess he had to just in case it ever comes up. It probably won't, even if he gets an offer and takes the job, because whoever the random guy is in HR to whom he sent the email probably paid no attention to it whatsoever.
Of course I wanted to be like "Thanks for using me as something to establish you as someone who is serious about his future when you are obviously a person who doesn't think about his future and who fears commitment."
Well, I only felt that way for about a second.
Mostly I felt like "Wow, he told a complete stranger in an email that I'm his fiance! He must like me a lot!"
Sometimes I felt like "I can't believe he lied to a potential future employer" but then understood why he had to, because it would be weird to be like "My girlfriend and I..." But why make mention of it at all?
And why do I care? I actually don't care, but I did last night, because I was imagining all of the ladies at the company party asking to see my ring and my having a total breakdown and being like "We're not engaged! We never will be! He can't commit! He's making it all up to be taken seriously in the work environment!"
Hehe.
I'm insane, but truthfully, today its because of the hormones.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Hiccup
I just graphed my Netflix watching habits. Why? Because I am overwhelmed by my queue and feel as though I will never watch all of the movies. Post-graphing, however, my soul is at ease because I've apparently watched 157 movies since May of 2005! This does not include the movies that I've watched from D's queue. There is hope. Or, depending on how you look at it, there is no hope because who watches > 157 movies in less than two years?
I have a headache today.
I rushed through my work to meet friends for dinner who ultimately cancelled.
Now I am trapped with a headache and hiccups waiting for D, who did not rush and who wouldn't have been able to meet the friends for dinner anyway.
Yes, I also have had hiccups all day.
I am a portrait of grace and poise.
I am getting a haircut tomorrow so I will truly be graceful and poised.
The weekend was good. There was smoke but no birds, thankfully.
I think there is something wrong with the flue. I'd never suggest this to D, who has done nothing but insist that its completely normal to have a ridiculously smokey apartment when lighting a fire. He made one on Saturday and another on Sunday. Last night's fire caused my eyes to water. We had to open the window because the air in the apartment was murkey. I kept having to get up in the middle of the night in order to stick my head out into the clean, fresh air of NYC. Heh. Everything smells of smoke. It's gross. The fire was nice - for the first five minutes. The current theory is that our apartment is small so smoke doesn't diffuse. I'm not sure I buy this anymore. Regardless, I am going to insist that we not light any fires in the future because I don't want my clothes to smell like smoke.
I didn't do much this weekend. Plans were cancelled on Friday night so D's cousin came over for fondue. I worry about her. She's young and headed for unhappiness. We went to see Letters From Iwo Jima on Saturday morning, which was a-ma-zing. I demand that you all see it this instant. I spent a moment having an instant crush on Ken Watanabe, without knowing why. Later D informed me that he'd played The Captain in Memoirs of a Geisha. Ah ha! I had a late lunch with E, who I hadn't seen in months. I then went home and made phone calls and then cooked for us. We watched a Netflix and then some Arrested Development and went to bed early like the lame adults that we are.
Yesterday I somehow managed to convince D to come to see The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee with me. He semi-twisted his ankle and I hadn't gone to ICP the day before because he wanted to go, and then my postponed plans were thwarted on Sunday because of the ankle. He loved it, as did I! Oh MY. It was wonderful. I spent the entire time smiling. Wicked funny, folks. Go see it if you have the opportunity. Afterwards I hit Food Emporium and bought brand snacks and then spent hours and more hours on the phone with Mother, who's having a hard time with things but I totally understand where she's coming from. We made crepes and watched The Promise, which sucked, but maybe not as bad as I thought because maybe the smoke inhalation tainted my feelings about it. We started watching Immortal Beloved but my headache got the best of me (smoke-induced? maybe!) and I passed out.
And now its Monday, and its been a long day because I came in early to meet people for dinner who subsequently cancelled. Awshummm. But I am going to instead get to make D happy by accompanying him while he eats 25 cent wings, a Monday activity he's been forgetting about for weeks and weeks.
Until tomorrow...
I have a headache today.
I rushed through my work to meet friends for dinner who ultimately cancelled.
Now I am trapped with a headache and hiccups waiting for D, who did not rush and who wouldn't have been able to meet the friends for dinner anyway.
Yes, I also have had hiccups all day.
I am a portrait of grace and poise.
I am getting a haircut tomorrow so I will truly be graceful and poised.
The weekend was good. There was smoke but no birds, thankfully.
I think there is something wrong with the flue. I'd never suggest this to D, who has done nothing but insist that its completely normal to have a ridiculously smokey apartment when lighting a fire. He made one on Saturday and another on Sunday. Last night's fire caused my eyes to water. We had to open the window because the air in the apartment was murkey. I kept having to get up in the middle of the night in order to stick my head out into the clean, fresh air of NYC. Heh. Everything smells of smoke. It's gross. The fire was nice - for the first five minutes. The current theory is that our apartment is small so smoke doesn't diffuse. I'm not sure I buy this anymore. Regardless, I am going to insist that we not light any fires in the future because I don't want my clothes to smell like smoke.
I didn't do much this weekend. Plans were cancelled on Friday night so D's cousin came over for fondue. I worry about her. She's young and headed for unhappiness. We went to see Letters From Iwo Jima on Saturday morning, which was a-ma-zing. I demand that you all see it this instant. I spent a moment having an instant crush on Ken Watanabe, without knowing why. Later D informed me that he'd played The Captain in Memoirs of a Geisha. Ah ha! I had a late lunch with E, who I hadn't seen in months. I then went home and made phone calls and then cooked for us. We watched a Netflix and then some Arrested Development and went to bed early like the lame adults that we are.
Yesterday I somehow managed to convince D to come to see The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee with me. He semi-twisted his ankle and I hadn't gone to ICP the day before because he wanted to go, and then my postponed plans were thwarted on Sunday because of the ankle. He loved it, as did I! Oh MY. It was wonderful. I spent the entire time smiling. Wicked funny, folks. Go see it if you have the opportunity. Afterwards I hit Food Emporium and bought brand snacks and then spent hours and more hours on the phone with Mother, who's having a hard time with things but I totally understand where she's coming from. We made crepes and watched The Promise, which sucked, but maybe not as bad as I thought because maybe the smoke inhalation tainted my feelings about it. We started watching Immortal Beloved but my headache got the best of me (smoke-induced? maybe!) and I passed out.
And now its Monday, and its been a long day because I came in early to meet people for dinner who subsequently cancelled. Awshummm. But I am going to instead get to make D happy by accompanying him while he eats 25 cent wings, a Monday activity he's been forgetting about for weeks and weeks.
Until tomorrow...
Friday, January 19, 2007
Hallucination
After being home from work for a bit last night, I decided to venture to the bathroom to, well, you know. When I opened the door, I heard something scurry around frantically.
I promptly and instinctively closed the door, let my heart rate slow down, and began my vigil by the door, waiting for whatever it was to happen again.
"It's a bird," I said to myself, knowing full well that it was a bird, because I've heard that frenetic flapping before. When Sister and I were in San Francisco a few years ago, we were staying in a hotel that didn't have screens on the window. We thought this a bit odd, being from MA where windows have screens.
(Aside: I have since learned that most places don't have screens, which leads to all manner of mayhem including birds flying into hotel rooms and babies falling out of fourth story apartments. Then again, a baby falling may not be prevented by a screen if the baby is determined to escape. Bars, however, would prevent babies from getting out but not necessarily birds from getting in. I guess I am a little neurotic when it comes to screens. When we moved to Brooklyn I said to Roommate "Dude, why aren't there screens?" We were distressed for a bit - the bugs! - but then learned that most places do not have screens, and we were apparently just spoiled in MA. Digression = over.)
Anyway, Sister and I were awoken bright and early one day by the hysterical flapping of wings in our room. We freaked out (only after we were awake enough to realize that there was a bird having a meltdown in our room) and ran into the bathroom where we took shelter and regrouped. After we settled down, we opened the door to see the bird perched atop the TV. We tried a couple uninspired moves including trying to lure the bird out with bread - we realized this was the worst idea ever when a bunch of other birds from the outside almost flew in. Thinking back on this, it is bizarre to me that we even had bread in the hotel room. We tried throwing a shoe at it. We tried screaming like lunatics because that's the best thing to do to calm down a frightened bird. We eventually concluded that there was no way for us to get it out - it wasn't going to the window of its own volition, and since we were in a hotel room we were devoid of any bird-chasing devices like brooms and mops. We called the front desk and explained "Um, there's a bird in our room." They laughed, and finally sent a guy up with a pair of gloves, a pail, and a broom.
So I knew the sound all too well. I listened outside the bathroom door last night, and nothing was happening. Nothing! I stood there for a few minutes. I tried to lure it out. I turned the lights on and off. I banged on the door. I yelled. I tried to scare it again, scare it into revealing itself. I opened the door a crack and tried to look in the mirror to see if I could see its reflection. Nothing. I even walked in, attempting to reenact what caused it to panic in the first place. Nothing.
I decided to wait for D to come home, as D loves gender roles and would love nothing more than to save the day and as I didn't know how on earth to get a bird out of an apartment with no windows readily available.
Not that there was a bird. In the hour between hearing the noise and D's coming home from the gym, when the bird didn't make another sound, I managed to convince myself that my having a psychotic break was far more likely than there being a now silent bird in my apartment.
I kept weighing the options - which would be worse? An auditory hallucination or there being a bird in my apartment and my being unable to get it out? Seriously. This was going to be a hard job. The bird was in the bathroom and there were no windows nearby. We'd have to get the bird to fly to either end of the apartment, which wouldn't be easy, and would certainly be murder on the furniture. When Sister and I tried to get the bird out of the hotel room, it was freaking out and crapped everywhere. I didn't want a bird shitting on the couch, the nice sheets, no way.
If there turned out not to be a bird, would I go to a therapist and admit that I'd been hearing things? Probably not. I'd never admit it.
I started thinking "What if I'm seriously losing it?"
At one point during the vigil, I swore that I heard chirping. Seriously, I swore.
But no! How would a bird get into a Manhattan apartment? There was no way. It's impossible. But then again, D had taken out the air conditioners from the windows the night before (and yes, we are concerned that it might reach 70 degrees again but whatever, we'll deal) so it is possible that a bird sneaked in, but wouldn't we have noticed? And how would it have gone undetected all night?
No. There was no bird, and I was losing my mind, and I spent most of that hour trying to think if I'd experienced any other insanity in the recent months, and trying to think of what I would say to D. I wanted him to inspect the bathroom just to make sure that there was no bird. But I didn't want to say "There's a bird in the bathroom," because if there wasn't, that would really scare him. And me.
And then I thought "Wait - but what if there is a bird and it somehow flies out of the bathroom and we go to look and its not there but is somewhere else in the apartment? My diagnosis will be insanity but I won't actually be insane!"
I thought about not saying anything, and letting D discover (or not discover) it for himself. But on the off-chance that there was a bird, I didn't want him to have a heart attack when he went to take a shower and a bird flew into his face. But if I didn't say anything, I wouldn't incriminate myself as an insane person.
When D walked in, he gave me a kiss and joked "What a long day at the office!" I immediately said "Honey, I think there's something in the bathroom."
I hadn't even considered this option. It just came out of my mouth. Brilliant. And by then I had convinced myself that it was entirely possible that D hadn't shut the flue the night before, although that's not like him, but its possible that a bird could fly in through the chimney! Totally possible.
"What?"
"I don't know, but I heard something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know - I could have been hallucinating or it could have been from the neighbor's apartment, but it sounded like... well, either some very large gruesome insect or a mouse or something. Something big." I said nothing about the bird, because seriously, there can't be a bird in a Manhattan apartment. There just can't be.
I made D nervous. I didn't mean to. But I have to admit that I like it when he's nervous and insecure, because I see it so rarely. I feel like we have something in common when he gets that way. We looked in the bathroom together, with the door only slightly ajar. D also performed the look-in-the-mirror maneuver. Nothing.
"What's that?" I said, pointing to a small black spot on the toilet. Normally I wouldn't be alarmed, but I'd just cleaned the bathroom the night before and was expecting spotlessness.
"It looks like bird crap," said D.
"AH HA!" I said. "It IS a bird."
"What?"
"I think there's a bird."
"But there's no bird." There was no bird. "Maybe in the towels?" I suggested. No bird.
"Look in the shower..." I said and as he opened the shower curtain we both had minor heart attacks when the freaking bird flew up and spazzed out.
Yes, folks, a bird.
And how did it get in?
Through the flue, in the fireplace, which had not been closed the night before.
We slammed the door shut, regrouped, and came up with a plan. D said "How did it get in?" "THE FLUE!" I said, having had more time to think about it than he did.
Upon further inspection, there was bird crap all over the apartment, which was doubly unfortunate given that D had literally scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees the night before. Neither of us had noticed it previously because our floor is speckled with dried paint from whoever painted our apartment before we moved in. Camouflage. We had to inspect each dot carefully to determine what was what. There was some on the TV, but it looked like the bedroom and kitchen were spared.
D wanted to coax it out one of our windows, but I didn't want to because I was afraid of more damage. I didn't know what to do. D suggested coaxing it out into the hall, which was a good idea but what if it then flew into someone else's apartment? I preferred his original idea, but then D decided to let it out the front door and try to get it up to the roof. Brilliant!
Before I knew what was happening, D had the bird out in the hall and was chasing it up the stairs onto the roof.
My hero.
And my non-hallucinating brain.
Bird in the apartment. Wtf?
I promptly and instinctively closed the door, let my heart rate slow down, and began my vigil by the door, waiting for whatever it was to happen again.
"It's a bird," I said to myself, knowing full well that it was a bird, because I've heard that frenetic flapping before. When Sister and I were in San Francisco a few years ago, we were staying in a hotel that didn't have screens on the window. We thought this a bit odd, being from MA where windows have screens.
(Aside: I have since learned that most places don't have screens, which leads to all manner of mayhem including birds flying into hotel rooms and babies falling out of fourth story apartments. Then again, a baby falling may not be prevented by a screen if the baby is determined to escape. Bars, however, would prevent babies from getting out but not necessarily birds from getting in. I guess I am a little neurotic when it comes to screens. When we moved to Brooklyn I said to Roommate "Dude, why aren't there screens?" We were distressed for a bit - the bugs! - but then learned that most places do not have screens, and we were apparently just spoiled in MA. Digression = over.)
Anyway, Sister and I were awoken bright and early one day by the hysterical flapping of wings in our room. We freaked out (only after we were awake enough to realize that there was a bird having a meltdown in our room) and ran into the bathroom where we took shelter and regrouped. After we settled down, we opened the door to see the bird perched atop the TV. We tried a couple uninspired moves including trying to lure the bird out with bread - we realized this was the worst idea ever when a bunch of other birds from the outside almost flew in. Thinking back on this, it is bizarre to me that we even had bread in the hotel room. We tried throwing a shoe at it. We tried screaming like lunatics because that's the best thing to do to calm down a frightened bird. We eventually concluded that there was no way for us to get it out - it wasn't going to the window of its own volition, and since we were in a hotel room we were devoid of any bird-chasing devices like brooms and mops. We called the front desk and explained "Um, there's a bird in our room." They laughed, and finally sent a guy up with a pair of gloves, a pail, and a broom.
So I knew the sound all too well. I listened outside the bathroom door last night, and nothing was happening. Nothing! I stood there for a few minutes. I tried to lure it out. I turned the lights on and off. I banged on the door. I yelled. I tried to scare it again, scare it into revealing itself. I opened the door a crack and tried to look in the mirror to see if I could see its reflection. Nothing. I even walked in, attempting to reenact what caused it to panic in the first place. Nothing.
I decided to wait for D to come home, as D loves gender roles and would love nothing more than to save the day and as I didn't know how on earth to get a bird out of an apartment with no windows readily available.
Not that there was a bird. In the hour between hearing the noise and D's coming home from the gym, when the bird didn't make another sound, I managed to convince myself that my having a psychotic break was far more likely than there being a now silent bird in my apartment.
I kept weighing the options - which would be worse? An auditory hallucination or there being a bird in my apartment and my being unable to get it out? Seriously. This was going to be a hard job. The bird was in the bathroom and there were no windows nearby. We'd have to get the bird to fly to either end of the apartment, which wouldn't be easy, and would certainly be murder on the furniture. When Sister and I tried to get the bird out of the hotel room, it was freaking out and crapped everywhere. I didn't want a bird shitting on the couch, the nice sheets, no way.
If there turned out not to be a bird, would I go to a therapist and admit that I'd been hearing things? Probably not. I'd never admit it.
I started thinking "What if I'm seriously losing it?"
At one point during the vigil, I swore that I heard chirping. Seriously, I swore.
But no! How would a bird get into a Manhattan apartment? There was no way. It's impossible. But then again, D had taken out the air conditioners from the windows the night before (and yes, we are concerned that it might reach 70 degrees again but whatever, we'll deal) so it is possible that a bird sneaked in, but wouldn't we have noticed? And how would it have gone undetected all night?
No. There was no bird, and I was losing my mind, and I spent most of that hour trying to think if I'd experienced any other insanity in the recent months, and trying to think of what I would say to D. I wanted him to inspect the bathroom just to make sure that there was no bird. But I didn't want to say "There's a bird in the bathroom," because if there wasn't, that would really scare him. And me.
And then I thought "Wait - but what if there is a bird and it somehow flies out of the bathroom and we go to look and its not there but is somewhere else in the apartment? My diagnosis will be insanity but I won't actually be insane!"
I thought about not saying anything, and letting D discover (or not discover) it for himself. But on the off-chance that there was a bird, I didn't want him to have a heart attack when he went to take a shower and a bird flew into his face. But if I didn't say anything, I wouldn't incriminate myself as an insane person.
When D walked in, he gave me a kiss and joked "What a long day at the office!" I immediately said "Honey, I think there's something in the bathroom."
I hadn't even considered this option. It just came out of my mouth. Brilliant. And by then I had convinced myself that it was entirely possible that D hadn't shut the flue the night before, although that's not like him, but its possible that a bird could fly in through the chimney! Totally possible.
"What?"
"I don't know, but I heard something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know - I could have been hallucinating or it could have been from the neighbor's apartment, but it sounded like... well, either some very large gruesome insect or a mouse or something. Something big." I said nothing about the bird, because seriously, there can't be a bird in a Manhattan apartment. There just can't be.
I made D nervous. I didn't mean to. But I have to admit that I like it when he's nervous and insecure, because I see it so rarely. I feel like we have something in common when he gets that way. We looked in the bathroom together, with the door only slightly ajar. D also performed the look-in-the-mirror maneuver. Nothing.
"What's that?" I said, pointing to a small black spot on the toilet. Normally I wouldn't be alarmed, but I'd just cleaned the bathroom the night before and was expecting spotlessness.
"It looks like bird crap," said D.
"AH HA!" I said. "It IS a bird."
"What?"
"I think there's a bird."
"But there's no bird." There was no bird. "Maybe in the towels?" I suggested. No bird.
"Look in the shower..." I said and as he opened the shower curtain we both had minor heart attacks when the freaking bird flew up and spazzed out.
Yes, folks, a bird.
And how did it get in?
Through the flue, in the fireplace, which had not been closed the night before.
We slammed the door shut, regrouped, and came up with a plan. D said "How did it get in?" "THE FLUE!" I said, having had more time to think about it than he did.
Upon further inspection, there was bird crap all over the apartment, which was doubly unfortunate given that D had literally scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees the night before. Neither of us had noticed it previously because our floor is speckled with dried paint from whoever painted our apartment before we moved in. Camouflage. We had to inspect each dot carefully to determine what was what. There was some on the TV, but it looked like the bedroom and kitchen were spared.
D wanted to coax it out one of our windows, but I didn't want to because I was afraid of more damage. I didn't know what to do. D suggested coaxing it out into the hall, which was a good idea but what if it then flew into someone else's apartment? I preferred his original idea, but then D decided to let it out the front door and try to get it up to the roof. Brilliant!
Before I knew what was happening, D had the bird out in the hall and was chasing it up the stairs onto the roof.
My hero.
And my non-hallucinating brain.
Bird in the apartment. Wtf?
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Wicked Embarrassed
D and I went to see Tears of the Black Tiger last night, which wasn't nearly as good as any of the reviews would have indicated.
Nevertheless, I owed D a movie from last week when we went to see Army of Shadows. Movies at the Film Forum are $10.50.
I gave the dude $25.
He gave me $22.50 in change. As we were walking away, I thought "Wait a minute! He should have given me $4 in change!"
The old me would have just kept walking, because I feel like this sort of thing is karma and I'm sure I've gotten too much change in the past and kept it.
But the new saving-money me wouldn't stand for it.
I marched back in there and said "Um, excuse me, I think you only gave me $22.50 and the total was $21 so I should have gotten $4 back."
The hipster looked at me and said "I'm pretty sure I gave you $2 and two Sacagaweas."
Oops.
I felt like such an idiot, and I was so embarrassed, and I began to apologize for not being able to tell the difference between quarters and Sacagawea coins. It's not like Sacagawea coins are really in rotation, and it was dark, and I just took them and put them in my pocket without looking at them because this is what you with two large coins that are pretty much the size of quarters.
I stopped apologizing, though, because I felt like the guy was being condescending. Upon further examination, I realized that he wasn't being condescending at all. I just felt like he was because I felt like such a moron for not knowing that they were Sacagawea coins (if I have to type that again I am going to explode) and not quarters. I wanted to go back and apologize for not apologizing enough, but that would have been ridiculous, and I'm sure he was being condescencing because he had every right to be after I accused him of giving me the wrong change.
The annoying thing about all of this is that I never ever ever do things like that, and that guy was probably thinking "I hate New Yorkers..." because that's the sort of thing New Yorkers do, only normally over three cent discrepancies.
***
In other news, I can't find my only pair of gloves and its really cold out.
***
Luckily I have mittens (although they are mittens with holes, which aren't terribly effective in this sort of weather), and a warm hat, and a scarf and super warm coat. I wore all of these things this morning and was very proud of myself for about three seconds, until my feet started to freeze.
Why? Because I am wearing chucks.
I really don't know how I get through life without my mother saying "You know, its cold outside. You should wear warm shoes." I might as well be wearing sandals.
***
I am feeling social pressure these days. Nobody is actually putting pressure on me. Because I'm in a bit of an antisocial phase that happens to coincide with my potentially moving soon-ish, there is a conflict. People want to hang out but I want to go to musicals by myself and get more sleep to decrease my brain age. I want to read books and watch movies and do art projects. Of course I want to see people, but it's hard to plan when you're not in the mood to plan anything beyond what to do alone.
***
This is why having a party would be good, but then I would have to plan that.
***
And don't even try to stop me from taking the photos for Ebay tonight!
***
I'm tired. I stayed up too late last night finishing Tricked. I don't know if I love reading graphic novels because I love them or because they're easy to read but just as fulfilling as non-graphic novels. They're good for sociocultural ADD. They're low maintenance.
***
And with that... I am going to lurk a bit and then head to the Gershwin where I will beg for a ticket to Wicked this weekend. Then I'm off to Amish where I will procure lovely fruits and veggies for the next few days. Then I shall go home and deal with bills and mailings, take photos for EBay, make at least one phone call, maybe watch a movie, eat some food, maybe post things on EBay, maybe clean the ever-grossing bathroom. Wish me luck. Having Wicked on my to-do list will make me so very happy.
Nevertheless, I owed D a movie from last week when we went to see Army of Shadows. Movies at the Film Forum are $10.50.
I gave the dude $25.
He gave me $22.50 in change. As we were walking away, I thought "Wait a minute! He should have given me $4 in change!"
The old me would have just kept walking, because I feel like this sort of thing is karma and I'm sure I've gotten too much change in the past and kept it.
But the new saving-money me wouldn't stand for it.
I marched back in there and said "Um, excuse me, I think you only gave me $22.50 and the total was $21 so I should have gotten $4 back."
The hipster looked at me and said "I'm pretty sure I gave you $2 and two Sacagaweas."
Oops.
I felt like such an idiot, and I was so embarrassed, and I began to apologize for not being able to tell the difference between quarters and Sacagawea coins. It's not like Sacagawea coins are really in rotation, and it was dark, and I just took them and put them in my pocket without looking at them because this is what you with two large coins that are pretty much the size of quarters.
I stopped apologizing, though, because I felt like the guy was being condescending. Upon further examination, I realized that he wasn't being condescending at all. I just felt like he was because I felt like such a moron for not knowing that they were Sacagawea coins (if I have to type that again I am going to explode) and not quarters. I wanted to go back and apologize for not apologizing enough, but that would have been ridiculous, and I'm sure he was being condescencing because he had every right to be after I accused him of giving me the wrong change.
The annoying thing about all of this is that I never ever ever do things like that, and that guy was probably thinking "I hate New Yorkers..." because that's the sort of thing New Yorkers do, only normally over three cent discrepancies.
***
In other news, I can't find my only pair of gloves and its really cold out.
***
Luckily I have mittens (although they are mittens with holes, which aren't terribly effective in this sort of weather), and a warm hat, and a scarf and super warm coat. I wore all of these things this morning and was very proud of myself for about three seconds, until my feet started to freeze.
Why? Because I am wearing chucks.
I really don't know how I get through life without my mother saying "You know, its cold outside. You should wear warm shoes." I might as well be wearing sandals.
***
I am feeling social pressure these days. Nobody is actually putting pressure on me. Because I'm in a bit of an antisocial phase that happens to coincide with my potentially moving soon-ish, there is a conflict. People want to hang out but I want to go to musicals by myself and get more sleep to decrease my brain age. I want to read books and watch movies and do art projects. Of course I want to see people, but it's hard to plan when you're not in the mood to plan anything beyond what to do alone.
***
This is why having a party would be good, but then I would have to plan that.
***
And don't even try to stop me from taking the photos for Ebay tonight!
***
I'm tired. I stayed up too late last night finishing Tricked. I don't know if I love reading graphic novels because I love them or because they're easy to read but just as fulfilling as non-graphic novels. They're good for sociocultural ADD. They're low maintenance.
***
And with that... I am going to lurk a bit and then head to the Gershwin where I will beg for a ticket to Wicked this weekend. Then I'm off to Amish where I will procure lovely fruits and veggies for the next few days. Then I shall go home and deal with bills and mailings, take photos for EBay, make at least one phone call, maybe watch a movie, eat some food, maybe post things on EBay, maybe clean the ever-grossing bathroom. Wish me luck. Having Wicked on my to-do list will make me so very happy.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Engaged!
Ha! Did I get you? No, I'm not engaged. Or maybe... I am?
Not really. I guess its open to interpretation.
Heh.
Anyway.
The weekend was good. Friday night was Super Awesome Sleepover 2007. Pizza, cheap wine, goldfish, chips, cookies, Idiocracy, Playstation 2. We started to play and solved the Star Wars Lego game, the best part of which is that you can earn a ton of studs and buy "moustaches." We became, of course, obsessed with what that could mean - were disguises required at some point in the game? Disguises not a la dressed up as a storm trooper, but being hidden by a fake moustache? We earned enough to buy them - we bought nothing else for the entire game - no enhanced blasters, no invincibility, no extra characters - only moustaches. The moustaches, of course, turned out to be the best things of all time because when you turn them on, all of the characters in the game put on Tom Selleck-esque moustaches! Yoda! R2-D2! Even some of the ships have moustaches! Joy.
I hadn't played a video game since, like, 1999, when LBF and I rented Pod Racer and had a videogame night with GL. I forgot how much fun it could be. I was impressed with myself that I could actually use the controller, given that things have gotten so complicated.
The game is for 8-year-olds. I am mystified by kids today. They must all be brilliant. We got stuck in a couple levels, and kept saying "If we were 8, what would we do? Think like an 8-year-old!"
I have decided that if I ever get married, I am going to register for a Playstation. That would rule.
We spent the following day searching out brunch (another missed celebrity encounter - one of the guys from Office Space! curses! I wasn't expecting him in Brooklyn!) roaming around Park Slope, being accosted by strollers and dogs. I have determined that I should live in The Slope, because the clothes! Oh my! I bought a shirt. I didn't mean to! I hadn't bought anything all month! I was saving money! But D and MY went into the bike shop and I had nothing to do, so I walked into a store and I had to try it on.
We solved Star Wars post-Legos, and D and I headed back to the city where we did absolutely nothing productive. Yes!
On Sunday I had nothing to do, so I decided to see a musical. I saw Company, which was apparently remarkably ahead of its time. I really enjoyed it. I was trying to see Wicked, but I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I may never see it.
This is what happened:
- went to Wicked box-office on 51st
- there was some sort of raffle or something going on, plus I saw someone I knew who I didn't want to talk to, so I walked around a bit and then went back
- returned to box office, waited out raffle, went into box office and was told the show was sold out
- went to TKTS (46th) to get tickets to Spelling Bee
- no tickets at TKTS, so walked back to box office (Spelling Bee is right near Wicked) (51st)
- standing room only (wtf?)
- walked back to TKTS for other interesting tickets but nothing was really exciting me
- began walking to 42nd Street
- got to 44th Street and decided to go to Beauty and The Beast theater on 46th for tickets - but the show had already started! (thus explaining why there were no tickets at TKTS)
- walked back to TKTS just for one last chance at a rare and interesting ticket having materialized
- nothing interesting
- began walking to movie theater on 42nd St.
- passed by poster for Company on 44th St. and decided "I will see that!"
- ran like an idiot to 47th Street and got a ticket 5 minutes before it began
- woo!
I got the cheap ticket - $36 - and the guy behind the window said "The show's not going to sell out, so feel free to move up once the show has started." Word, dude. Yes, I was in the very last row of the mezzanine - I was eavesdropping and apparently the last two rows are $36 and every other ticket is $81 or more. Hah! I totally moved up to the front row of the mezzanine after intermission.
Which reminds me...
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Being able to roll out of bed on a Sunday afternoon with no particular plan in mind and end up seeing a Broadway show for $37. (This is definitely going to be at the top of the list. I caught myself nearly shedding a tear during Company thinking about this. Sniff. Woe. Etc.)
I hit the Amish market and then D's friend S came over for dinner. We drank 2+ bottles of wine between the three of us and had a jolly time.
Trashed, I was.
As of late I have been thinking about marriage because I feel like everyone I know is getting engaged. No, that's not true. I've always known people who were married or engaged. I've been to 12 zillion weddings. I think lately I've been conscious of this because everyone is engaged and all of these people have dated for far less time than I have been dating D. So I'm a little sensitive. Well, I'm a lot sensitive. And it's weird because it's not like I want to be married right this instant. I just have this weird sense of being different, and I don't lik ethat.
Trashed, I was, and so decided to say "D, let's get married!"
Dear god. As the words were coming out of my mouth my brain was in slow motion firing neurons that yelled "Noooo........."
He didn't shrug or laugh uncomfortably or ignore it.
Nope.
He said "OK."
"OK?"
"Yes. When?"
"Ummm... you want to know when?"
"Yes, when?"
"After!" I said, horrified.
"After what?"
"After some stuff happens and then it will be after that stuff happened so it will be a good time."
And we both laughed.
But he said yes.
Tee hee.
I guess we have a verbal contract.
But when? I don't know! How should I know?
I guess this is how men must feel all the time.
I didn't even leave the house yesterday. I read some of Tricked and finished reading The Voice and watched Al Gore with too much makeup warning me about polar bears who are drowning and giant populations of giant jellyfish and CO2 levels etc. Gore can do not wrong, but he was being a little melodramatic. But I don't care, because I will always heart Al. I meant to do some Ebay-ing but procrastinated instead and updated the blogs and talked to Mother for like 3 hours. I made other phone calls but people weren't home, and when they called back I was trying to watch The Golden Globes because I was hoping hopinh hopinh Sacha Baron Cohen would win and give the best speech of all time. Apparently he did both these things, but I missed both because the show was so. very. boring and I couldn't take it and so ended up reading and watching Arrested Development.
And that, folks, was the weekend update.
Not really. I guess its open to interpretation.
Heh.
Anyway.
The weekend was good. Friday night was Super Awesome Sleepover 2007. Pizza, cheap wine, goldfish, chips, cookies, Idiocracy, Playstation 2. We started to play and solved the Star Wars Lego game, the best part of which is that you can earn a ton of studs and buy "moustaches." We became, of course, obsessed with what that could mean - were disguises required at some point in the game? Disguises not a la dressed up as a storm trooper, but being hidden by a fake moustache? We earned enough to buy them - we bought nothing else for the entire game - no enhanced blasters, no invincibility, no extra characters - only moustaches. The moustaches, of course, turned out to be the best things of all time because when you turn them on, all of the characters in the game put on Tom Selleck-esque moustaches! Yoda! R2-D2! Even some of the ships have moustaches! Joy.
I hadn't played a video game since, like, 1999, when LBF and I rented Pod Racer and had a videogame night with GL. I forgot how much fun it could be. I was impressed with myself that I could actually use the controller, given that things have gotten so complicated.
The game is for 8-year-olds. I am mystified by kids today. They must all be brilliant. We got stuck in a couple levels, and kept saying "If we were 8, what would we do? Think like an 8-year-old!"
I have decided that if I ever get married, I am going to register for a Playstation. That would rule.
We spent the following day searching out brunch (another missed celebrity encounter - one of the guys from Office Space! curses! I wasn't expecting him in Brooklyn!) roaming around Park Slope, being accosted by strollers and dogs. I have determined that I should live in The Slope, because the clothes! Oh my! I bought a shirt. I didn't mean to! I hadn't bought anything all month! I was saving money! But D and MY went into the bike shop and I had nothing to do, so I walked into a store and I had to try it on.
We solved Star Wars post-Legos, and D and I headed back to the city where we did absolutely nothing productive. Yes!
On Sunday I had nothing to do, so I decided to see a musical. I saw Company, which was apparently remarkably ahead of its time. I really enjoyed it. I was trying to see Wicked, but I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I may never see it.
This is what happened:
- went to Wicked box-office on 51st
- there was some sort of raffle or something going on, plus I saw someone I knew who I didn't want to talk to, so I walked around a bit and then went back
- returned to box office, waited out raffle, went into box office and was told the show was sold out
- went to TKTS (46th) to get tickets to Spelling Bee
- no tickets at TKTS, so walked back to box office (Spelling Bee is right near Wicked) (51st)
- standing room only (wtf?)
- walked back to TKTS for other interesting tickets but nothing was really exciting me
- began walking to 42nd Street
- got to 44th Street and decided to go to Beauty and The Beast theater on 46th for tickets - but the show had already started! (thus explaining why there were no tickets at TKTS)
- walked back to TKTS just for one last chance at a rare and interesting ticket having materialized
- nothing interesting
- began walking to movie theater on 42nd St.
- passed by poster for Company on 44th St. and decided "I will see that!"
- ran like an idiot to 47th Street and got a ticket 5 minutes before it began
- woo!
I got the cheap ticket - $36 - and the guy behind the window said "The show's not going to sell out, so feel free to move up once the show has started." Word, dude. Yes, I was in the very last row of the mezzanine - I was eavesdropping and apparently the last two rows are $36 and every other ticket is $81 or more. Hah! I totally moved up to the front row of the mezzanine after intermission.
Which reminds me...
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Being able to roll out of bed on a Sunday afternoon with no particular plan in mind and end up seeing a Broadway show for $37. (This is definitely going to be at the top of the list. I caught myself nearly shedding a tear during Company thinking about this. Sniff. Woe. Etc.)
I hit the Amish market and then D's friend S came over for dinner. We drank 2+ bottles of wine between the three of us and had a jolly time.
Trashed, I was.
As of late I have been thinking about marriage because I feel like everyone I know is getting engaged. No, that's not true. I've always known people who were married or engaged. I've been to 12 zillion weddings. I think lately I've been conscious of this because everyone is engaged and all of these people have dated for far less time than I have been dating D. So I'm a little sensitive. Well, I'm a lot sensitive. And it's weird because it's not like I want to be married right this instant. I just have this weird sense of being different, and I don't lik ethat.
Trashed, I was, and so decided to say "D, let's get married!"
Dear god. As the words were coming out of my mouth my brain was in slow motion firing neurons that yelled "Noooo........."
He didn't shrug or laugh uncomfortably or ignore it.
Nope.
He said "OK."
"OK?"
"Yes. When?"
"Ummm... you want to know when?"
"Yes, when?"
"After!" I said, horrified.
"After what?"
"After some stuff happens and then it will be after that stuff happened so it will be a good time."
And we both laughed.
But he said yes.
Tee hee.
I guess we have a verbal contract.
But when? I don't know! How should I know?
I guess this is how men must feel all the time.
I didn't even leave the house yesterday. I read some of Tricked and finished reading The Voice and watched Al Gore with too much makeup warning me about polar bears who are drowning and giant populations of giant jellyfish and CO2 levels etc. Gore can do not wrong, but he was being a little melodramatic. But I don't care, because I will always heart Al. I meant to do some Ebay-ing but procrastinated instead and updated the blogs and talked to Mother for like 3 hours. I made other phone calls but people weren't home, and when they called back I was trying to watch The Golden Globes because I was hoping hopinh hopinh Sacha Baron Cohen would win and give the best speech of all time. Apparently he did both these things, but I missed both because the show was so. very. boring and I couldn't take it and so ended up reading and watching Arrested Development.
And that, folks, was the weekend update.
Brain Age
Everyone's been talking about brain age.
I know that my brain age is probably, like, 55 years old. I don't even want to take the test. I can't stand to know the results.
I think, though, that the suggested brain exercises to decrease one's brain age are a good idea.
For example: do puzzles. Sleep more (over a 8 hours a night, they say! Who has that sort of time?). Eat better. Take a shower with your eyes closed. Brush your teeth with the opposite hand.
I tried to "brush your teeth with the opposite hand" this morning. I didn't believe D when he said it was hard.
That was until I almost stabbed myself in the nose with my toothbrush. Toothpaste everywhere. It was lovely.
The actual brushing of the teeth wasn't hard. It was more having the coordination to get the toothbrush into my mouth that posed the problem. That, and I didn't know what to do with my free hand. It was just sort of flailing and I thought "Hmm... this doesn't seem right - but what would I normally be doing with my other hand while brushing my teeth?"
After switching hands, I realized that I generally put my left hand on the sink while brushing. Interesting. I switched back to the oppoisite hand, and as I was about to plunge my toothbrush into my eye with my left hand, I braced myself with my right hand and voila! Much easier.
I guess these brain games are to get you to think about things that you don't actually think about after they become habit. Things become automatic. And then your brain starts to decay. And then you have a brain age of 55 and can't react quickly to things and can't remember anything you've read in the last year.
Right. I am so going to sleep 8.5 hous tonight.
I know that my brain age is probably, like, 55 years old. I don't even want to take the test. I can't stand to know the results.
I think, though, that the suggested brain exercises to decrease one's brain age are a good idea.
For example: do puzzles. Sleep more (over a 8 hours a night, they say! Who has that sort of time?). Eat better. Take a shower with your eyes closed. Brush your teeth with the opposite hand.
I tried to "brush your teeth with the opposite hand" this morning. I didn't believe D when he said it was hard.
That was until I almost stabbed myself in the nose with my toothbrush. Toothpaste everywhere. It was lovely.
The actual brushing of the teeth wasn't hard. It was more having the coordination to get the toothbrush into my mouth that posed the problem. That, and I didn't know what to do with my free hand. It was just sort of flailing and I thought "Hmm... this doesn't seem right - but what would I normally be doing with my other hand while brushing my teeth?"
After switching hands, I realized that I generally put my left hand on the sink while brushing. Interesting. I switched back to the oppoisite hand, and as I was about to plunge my toothbrush into my eye with my left hand, I braced myself with my right hand and voila! Much easier.
I guess these brain games are to get you to think about things that you don't actually think about after they become habit. Things become automatic. And then your brain starts to decay. And then you have a brain age of 55 and can't react quickly to things and can't remember anything you've read in the last year.
Right. I am so going to sleep 8.5 hous tonight.
Cross
My to-do list includes things like "Call the Bank and complain..."
Because they will not send me the paperwork. I've been calling them for three years! Why must everything be so difficult?
On my list of calls was to call two magazine subscriptions that should have started but didn't. My goal was more to just ask when the first issue would be coming (I subscribed to both in November and expected both December and January issues, but upon checking I learned that one comes out only 4 times a year and the other every other month, so I figured there was just some weird gap or something).
I called both just now and both said that I should have received issues.
Ergh.
What if I hadn't called? They were like "Do you want us to send you the missed issues?"
As if this is a question that needs to be asked! Obviously! Do they expect me to say "Well, I did pay for those issues but I don't really need them. No, please, keep them and my extra money."
I am trying not to fume but it irks me that everything is a battle. It's going to be a joy when I have to change my address.
Because they will not send me the paperwork. I've been calling them for three years! Why must everything be so difficult?
On my list of calls was to call two magazine subscriptions that should have started but didn't. My goal was more to just ask when the first issue would be coming (I subscribed to both in November and expected both December and January issues, but upon checking I learned that one comes out only 4 times a year and the other every other month, so I figured there was just some weird gap or something).
I called both just now and both said that I should have received issues.
Ergh.
What if I hadn't called? They were like "Do you want us to send you the missed issues?"
As if this is a question that needs to be asked! Obviously! Do they expect me to say "Well, I did pay for those issues but I don't really need them. No, please, keep them and my extra money."
I am trying not to fume but it irks me that everything is a battle. It's going to be a joy when I have to change my address.
Friday, January 12, 2007
The Devil Makes Movies About The Devil Wearing Prada
Things I Will NOT Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Whatever it is that the water/air does to my hair, rendering it straw-like and unmanageable.
* Not being able to afford a decent haircut. I am currently rocking the same bad haircut I got in September, which couldn't be remedied because I didn't have the heart to tell my beloved MA-hairdresser that it would be a disaster in NYC, because she had just prior to cutting my hair found out that she had thyroid cancer. Of course she was going to not give me a good haircut, but I am still suffering.
(Incidentally, whenever I get depressed I become convinced that a new/cute haircut will solve all of my problems. I have been fantasizing about layers in the front, layers that will conceal the horrifying thing that my "bangs" are doing right now. Oh, how my life would be drastically improved had I a new/cute haircut! Oh, how my life would improve were I able to without remorse spend $80 on the new/cute haircut! I am trying to hold out until MA, where haircuts will be cheap and more reliable, assuming my hairdresser is ok and still cutting hair. How sad.
And, incidentally, the "bad" haircut that Ann Hathaway has at the beginning of The Devil Wears Prada, the worst movie ever made, looks similar to the haircut I am rocking right now. Poor girl.
Did anyone read the book? Could someone please explain to me the merits of this story? Granted, Meryl Streep, as always, was spectacular.
But seriously. I found the movie painful. What was the point? Allegedly wholesome/confident would-be journalist finds herself in the big city where she has a to take a job that she doesn't want. Boo hoo. And in order to succeed at said job, she sells her soul (much like we all do here) to the "glamazons" (I liked that, I must admit) to get ahead, wears cute clothes, learns how to perfectly apply makeup, must get up at like 4 am every day to iron her hair, and voila! She's a success but is still miserable. But was I supposed to care? I didn't care. I hated her from the moment she sold her soul to get ahead. Yes, she realized it was a mistake but whatever. She was lame. Are girls supposed to liket his character? Identify with her? I would have identified with her if she hated herself for being a glamazon, but she didn't.
I don't get it.
It made me hate New York even more. I did appreciate the soliloquies regarding why the fashion industry is important. I am hoping I will feel less insecure when I live in MA again, but can I confess something horrendous? When I was in Boston on the T earlier this year, I actually found myself thinking "Wow, everyone here dresses so blandly." I felt terrible - no, I feel terrible - because its not that people dress badly, its that people just dress however they want and aren't all about the exterior. And they don't spend hundreds of dollars a month to keep up with "fashion." I'm sure there are people in Boston who do it, but here I feel like everyone does it, and I feel gross for not doing it. Blah blah blah. It's Friday night and I am waiting for D so we can attend Super Awesome Sleepover 2007!)
* Whatever it is that the water/air does to my hair, rendering it straw-like and unmanageable.
* Not being able to afford a decent haircut. I am currently rocking the same bad haircut I got in September, which couldn't be remedied because I didn't have the heart to tell my beloved MA-hairdresser that it would be a disaster in NYC, because she had just prior to cutting my hair found out that she had thyroid cancer. Of course she was going to not give me a good haircut, but I am still suffering.
(Incidentally, whenever I get depressed I become convinced that a new/cute haircut will solve all of my problems. I have been fantasizing about layers in the front, layers that will conceal the horrifying thing that my "bangs" are doing right now. Oh, how my life would be drastically improved had I a new/cute haircut! Oh, how my life would improve were I able to without remorse spend $80 on the new/cute haircut! I am trying to hold out until MA, where haircuts will be cheap and more reliable, assuming my hairdresser is ok and still cutting hair. How sad.
And, incidentally, the "bad" haircut that Ann Hathaway has at the beginning of The Devil Wears Prada, the worst movie ever made, looks similar to the haircut I am rocking right now. Poor girl.
Did anyone read the book? Could someone please explain to me the merits of this story? Granted, Meryl Streep, as always, was spectacular.
But seriously. I found the movie painful. What was the point? Allegedly wholesome/confident would-be journalist finds herself in the big city where she has a to take a job that she doesn't want. Boo hoo. And in order to succeed at said job, she sells her soul (much like we all do here) to the "glamazons" (I liked that, I must admit) to get ahead, wears cute clothes, learns how to perfectly apply makeup, must get up at like 4 am every day to iron her hair, and voila! She's a success but is still miserable. But was I supposed to care? I didn't care. I hated her from the moment she sold her soul to get ahead. Yes, she realized it was a mistake but whatever. She was lame. Are girls supposed to liket his character? Identify with her? I would have identified with her if she hated herself for being a glamazon, but she didn't.
I don't get it.
It made me hate New York even more. I did appreciate the soliloquies regarding why the fashion industry is important. I am hoping I will feel less insecure when I live in MA again, but can I confess something horrendous? When I was in Boston on the T earlier this year, I actually found myself thinking "Wow, everyone here dresses so blandly." I felt terrible - no, I feel terrible - because its not that people dress badly, its that people just dress however they want and aren't all about the exterior. And they don't spend hundreds of dollars a month to keep up with "fashion." I'm sure there are people in Boston who do it, but here I feel like everyone does it, and I feel gross for not doing it. Blah blah blah. It's Friday night and I am waiting for D so we can attend Super Awesome Sleepover 2007!)
Better Mood
I am in a better mood because LBF cheered me up.
I was already in a slightly better mood because there was a potato in the middle of the street today (I don't know why this made me so happy but oh how it did) and the lobby downstairs smelled like lipstick. Yes, lipstick has a smell and it was in the lobby. Gas and lipstick in the same week. Crazy! Lately the Amish market has smelled like pot.
I was almost in a good mood last night because instead of crying, I decided to listen to The Drowsy Chaperone soundtrack. It, of course, made me insta-happy, which was deliciously meta because The Drowsy Chaperone is about a guy who is in a bad mood who decides to cheer himself by listening to old musical soundtracks.
I want there to be one night where I just go home. I don't want to stop anywhere, pick anything up. I want there to just be food in the refrigerator for me to eat, and ideally I won't have to cook it. I will go home directly from work, eat food, and then not have anything to do! Nothing! No laundry, no cleaning, no taking-pictures-for-Ebay, no Netflixes to watch, no Village Voice to catch up on, no phone calls remaining, no songs to record. Nothing! I will go home, eat, and stare wide-eyed at a clean apartment, all tasks completed, and I will play piano or read a book, and then go to bed early. Ah, dreams.
I have a long list of things to do. I have to sell things on Ebay. With the proceeds I have to buy things for school. I have to think about health insurance. I have to do art projects. I've actually been commissioned to do one so that's weighing on me, because I'm stumped and I have only a couple months to do it.
My goal is to have no list remaining when I move, so that the next year is without lists. Everything will be leisure. My life will be so much less hectic in MA. I will be chill, happy, enthused, energetic, etc.
Right.
Speaking of lists... I need to tend to my work list for the day and actually do something. Equipment is down and its causing me to procrastinate. Technology makes us so spoiled.
Oh. And apparently its de-lurking week? Do people know about this? Does this mean I have to de-lurk on all the blogs I read? Dear god. I don't even want to put that on any list because it will take hours.
More later...
I was already in a slightly better mood because there was a potato in the middle of the street today (I don't know why this made me so happy but oh how it did) and the lobby downstairs smelled like lipstick. Yes, lipstick has a smell and it was in the lobby. Gas and lipstick in the same week. Crazy! Lately the Amish market has smelled like pot.
I was almost in a good mood last night because instead of crying, I decided to listen to The Drowsy Chaperone soundtrack. It, of course, made me insta-happy, which was deliciously meta because The Drowsy Chaperone is about a guy who is in a bad mood who decides to cheer himself by listening to old musical soundtracks.
I want there to be one night where I just go home. I don't want to stop anywhere, pick anything up. I want there to just be food in the refrigerator for me to eat, and ideally I won't have to cook it. I will go home directly from work, eat food, and then not have anything to do! Nothing! No laundry, no cleaning, no taking-pictures-for-Ebay, no Netflixes to watch, no Village Voice to catch up on, no phone calls remaining, no songs to record. Nothing! I will go home, eat, and stare wide-eyed at a clean apartment, all tasks completed, and I will play piano or read a book, and then go to bed early. Ah, dreams.
I have a long list of things to do. I have to sell things on Ebay. With the proceeds I have to buy things for school. I have to think about health insurance. I have to do art projects. I've actually been commissioned to do one so that's weighing on me, because I'm stumped and I have only a couple months to do it.
My goal is to have no list remaining when I move, so that the next year is without lists. Everything will be leisure. My life will be so much less hectic in MA. I will be chill, happy, enthused, energetic, etc.
Right.
Speaking of lists... I need to tend to my work list for the day and actually do something. Equipment is down and its causing me to procrastinate. Technology makes us so spoiled.
Oh. And apparently its de-lurking week? Do people know about this? Does this mean I have to de-lurk on all the blogs I read? Dear god. I don't even want to put that on any list because it will take hours.
More later...
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Because I Love A Good List...
... I am going to make a list of things I will miss and things I will not miss about NYC, and I will update it periodically on the blog.
And so let the listing begin!
Things I Will NOT Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* "Heat and Hot Water Included," which is ridiculous. As Father would say "You're paying for the heat... in the elevated rent price." So true, and I wouldn't mind so much if they actually put the heat on. It was 58 degrees in the apartment this morning. So the heat that I can't control and that isn't on is "included." How very generous. I'd rather pay for heat that is on than not pay for heat that doesn't exist.
* Apartments that will never be clean. I don't know if non-New Yorkers know about this, but the city generates black dust that cannot be suppressed. Even when the windows aren't open, there's a black layer of dusty film over everything. I'll dust, and within a week everything is covered with black again. It's not normal dust. It's dark, like ash. Additionally, the bathroom is never clean. There's nothing I can do! There's blue towel residue all over everything, so instead of black dust there's blue dust all the time. My theory is that this is due to the complete lack of ventilation - no vent in the bathroom + no window in the bathroom + no circulation in the apartment = grossness.
* Seeing women on the train putting on make up in the style of a make up artist and feeling terribly inadequate.
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Seeing Dennis Hopper in line for a movie and having nobody react.
* Being able to see movies like Army of Shadows on the big screen.
* The Amish Market.
And so let the listing begin!
Things I Will NOT Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* "Heat and Hot Water Included," which is ridiculous. As Father would say "You're paying for the heat... in the elevated rent price." So true, and I wouldn't mind so much if they actually put the heat on. It was 58 degrees in the apartment this morning. So the heat that I can't control and that isn't on is "included." How very generous. I'd rather pay for heat that is on than not pay for heat that doesn't exist.
* Apartments that will never be clean. I don't know if non-New Yorkers know about this, but the city generates black dust that cannot be suppressed. Even when the windows aren't open, there's a black layer of dusty film over everything. I'll dust, and within a week everything is covered with black again. It's not normal dust. It's dark, like ash. Additionally, the bathroom is never clean. There's nothing I can do! There's blue towel residue all over everything, so instead of black dust there's blue dust all the time. My theory is that this is due to the complete lack of ventilation - no vent in the bathroom + no window in the bathroom + no circulation in the apartment = grossness.
* Seeing women on the train putting on make up in the style of a make up artist and feeling terribly inadequate.
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Seeing Dennis Hopper in line for a movie and having nobody react.
* Being able to see movies like Army of Shadows on the big screen.
* The Amish Market.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Troubled
I am troubled today.
Sometimes I can't handle it. I couldn't handle it yesterday, and I can't handle it today.
Sometimes I wonder if my negative response is enhanced by non-related man-hating activities. I found out on Monday that someone upon whom I wish immense ill will got married months ago, and I flipped out. I don't know why I still care. I guess I care that someone else has the life I was supposed to have, that someone could cause so much pain and then go off and himself be happy, that someone loves him enough to marry him and nobody has ever loved me enough to marry me.
I'm a combination of jealous and pissed. This is probably the worst way to feel.
Therefore I couldn't handle it yesterday. I have a vast arsenal of defense mechanisms from which to pull possible artillery, but he really blindsided me yesterday. I chose "Focus on the Positive" and was able to do so for about two hours, during which I comforted myself knowing that this will mostly be over in two months. The finiteness of it is scary, but knowing something is powerful. Having a date on the calendar is good. I said "Are you going to bring someone with you in case you... well, you know... in case you can't call anyone afterwards?" The defense mechanism of "Be Organized, Consider Options and Think Ahead" is a good one too.
He crossed the line big time yesterday. Hugely. You can't even imagine. He crossed the line so much that I literally blocked it out for a majority of the evening, during which I allowed D to cheer me up en route to the hockey game. I blocked it out while watching Arrested Development post-hockey. I even blocked it out as I began to fall asleep during the show. The lights went out and D was chatty, and when he started to snore I had lost the window and remembered and I thought "I can't take this. Nobody should have to deal with this."
Sometimes I feel like my family is like something out of a Todd Solondz movie.
I sat with my eyes wide open, wanting to cry about someone else's happiness (that bastard) and someone else's sociopathic tendencies (that bastard). I wanted to scream. I got up after twenty minutes of this and didn't scream and cried instead, because I want all of this to be over.
No, that's not true. I want it to be 1979 and I want everything to be different.
Or I want it to be yesterday at 5:00 and I want to not do the right thing and I want to not make the phone call.
Or I want it to be yesterday at 5:45 and I want to be having the phone conversation in my apartment and not having the conversation at work and I want to scream and yell and say "What the f-ck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much you are still hurting people? SHUT THE F*K UP AND NEVER EVER EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN!"
I nearly posted an anonymous Craigslist rant about this because I need to talk to someone about it but I feel like if I even speak the words I want to say I might implode.
Sometimes I am proud of myself for being as sane as I am.
Nobody should have to hear these things. It's weird and wrong and unsettling and wrong and weird and I don't even know. I'm glad I'm, ahem, 30. I can't imagine going through this in my teens.
Anyway.
D and I are going on a date to the movies tonight. I asked him to, because I don't really know what to do with myself right now. I'm trying to remain positive and look forward to the future, but I am scared to death to be immersed in this. What am I doing? I'm scared of the confrontation during which I say "I don't want to see you anymore" or "I can't handle this" or "You stress me out in ways I don't even know yet." Or worse, having to walk through a metal detector to have a confrontation.
D said "He's in war-time mode, where he's just trying to convince himself that what he's doing is right." D is so generous with his opinions, so positive. I agreed, because he probably is, but he's always in war-time mode. He never thinks that he's done anything wrong. It's not what he did that bothers me most (and oh, it bothers me), its how flippant he is about it. I could forgive him if he repents, repents in a way that normal people repent and in a way that makes sense, but I don't think he'll ever be able to do that, because he'll never get it. He doesn't get it. He just doesn't get it. He thinks he does, but he doesn't.
I swear I'm trying to think positively, but it's so much to handle and sometimes I can't handle it. I feel weak when I can't. I hate that feeling.
My hands are really dry. It's getting cold finally. There was a minute of snow today, at 9:55 am. Because I'd been looking online all morning for some sort of support group, I was late to work and walked in just as the snow began! See? Positive!
And D and I are going to a movie tonight, a full-priced one. We've been so obsessed with the cheap blockbuster matinee that we haven't seen a good indie film in a while.
Last weekend was good. There was dancing, and lots of it. In the apartment, in the club, in the street. I haven't danced like that in far too long. Ah, the good old days. Before any of this had happened.
This coming weekend is a long weekend with no plans other than a good ol' sleepover at MY's where we will drink and play videogames and watch lots of movies and never leave the condo.
This week has been a struggle because it is a full week, and I haven't worked a full week in ages.
OK. I'm in a bad mood, but I think at this particular point in time I am allowed to be. Hopefully my peanut butter sandwich that I brought for dinner (saving money! yeah!) will cheer me up.
Until tomorrow...
Sometimes I can't handle it. I couldn't handle it yesterday, and I can't handle it today.
Sometimes I wonder if my negative response is enhanced by non-related man-hating activities. I found out on Monday that someone upon whom I wish immense ill will got married months ago, and I flipped out. I don't know why I still care. I guess I care that someone else has the life I was supposed to have, that someone could cause so much pain and then go off and himself be happy, that someone loves him enough to marry him and nobody has ever loved me enough to marry me.
I'm a combination of jealous and pissed. This is probably the worst way to feel.
Therefore I couldn't handle it yesterday. I have a vast arsenal of defense mechanisms from which to pull possible artillery, but he really blindsided me yesterday. I chose "Focus on the Positive" and was able to do so for about two hours, during which I comforted myself knowing that this will mostly be over in two months. The finiteness of it is scary, but knowing something is powerful. Having a date on the calendar is good. I said "Are you going to bring someone with you in case you... well, you know... in case you can't call anyone afterwards?" The defense mechanism of "Be Organized, Consider Options and Think Ahead" is a good one too.
He crossed the line big time yesterday. Hugely. You can't even imagine. He crossed the line so much that I literally blocked it out for a majority of the evening, during which I allowed D to cheer me up en route to the hockey game. I blocked it out while watching Arrested Development post-hockey. I even blocked it out as I began to fall asleep during the show. The lights went out and D was chatty, and when he started to snore I had lost the window and remembered and I thought "I can't take this. Nobody should have to deal with this."
Sometimes I feel like my family is like something out of a Todd Solondz movie.
I sat with my eyes wide open, wanting to cry about someone else's happiness (that bastard) and someone else's sociopathic tendencies (that bastard). I wanted to scream. I got up after twenty minutes of this and didn't scream and cried instead, because I want all of this to be over.
No, that's not true. I want it to be 1979 and I want everything to be different.
Or I want it to be yesterday at 5:00 and I want to not do the right thing and I want to not make the phone call.
Or I want it to be yesterday at 5:45 and I want to be having the phone conversation in my apartment and not having the conversation at work and I want to scream and yell and say "What the f-ck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much you are still hurting people? SHUT THE F*K UP AND NEVER EVER EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN!"
I nearly posted an anonymous Craigslist rant about this because I need to talk to someone about it but I feel like if I even speak the words I want to say I might implode.
Sometimes I am proud of myself for being as sane as I am.
Nobody should have to hear these things. It's weird and wrong and unsettling and wrong and weird and I don't even know. I'm glad I'm, ahem, 30. I can't imagine going through this in my teens.
Anyway.
D and I are going on a date to the movies tonight. I asked him to, because I don't really know what to do with myself right now. I'm trying to remain positive and look forward to the future, but I am scared to death to be immersed in this. What am I doing? I'm scared of the confrontation during which I say "I don't want to see you anymore" or "I can't handle this" or "You stress me out in ways I don't even know yet." Or worse, having to walk through a metal detector to have a confrontation.
D said "He's in war-time mode, where he's just trying to convince himself that what he's doing is right." D is so generous with his opinions, so positive. I agreed, because he probably is, but he's always in war-time mode. He never thinks that he's done anything wrong. It's not what he did that bothers me most (and oh, it bothers me), its how flippant he is about it. I could forgive him if he repents, repents in a way that normal people repent and in a way that makes sense, but I don't think he'll ever be able to do that, because he'll never get it. He doesn't get it. He just doesn't get it. He thinks he does, but he doesn't.
I swear I'm trying to think positively, but it's so much to handle and sometimes I can't handle it. I feel weak when I can't. I hate that feeling.
My hands are really dry. It's getting cold finally. There was a minute of snow today, at 9:55 am. Because I'd been looking online all morning for some sort of support group, I was late to work and walked in just as the snow began! See? Positive!
And D and I are going to a movie tonight, a full-priced one. We've been so obsessed with the cheap blockbuster matinee that we haven't seen a good indie film in a while.
Last weekend was good. There was dancing, and lots of it. In the apartment, in the club, in the street. I haven't danced like that in far too long. Ah, the good old days. Before any of this had happened.
This coming weekend is a long weekend with no plans other than a good ol' sleepover at MY's where we will drink and play videogames and watch lots of movies and never leave the condo.
This week has been a struggle because it is a full week, and I haven't worked a full week in ages.
OK. I'm in a bad mood, but I think at this particular point in time I am allowed to be. Hopefully my peanut butter sandwich that I brought for dinner (saving money! yeah!) will cheer me up.
Until tomorrow...
Monday, January 08, 2007
F-ed Up
There is something truly f-ed up about having to turn on one's air conditioner at the beginning of January.
The good news is that weather.com predicts "a few snow showers" for January 17th. Please please PLEASE.
The good news is that weather.com predicts "a few snow showers" for January 17th. Please please PLEASE.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Super Hero
I can't get enough of Wesley Autrey. Every time I read or hear something about him, I cry. I just watched the entire press conference. Every time he hugged Bloomie (who I also love) I cried.
There's been all sorts of discussions about why this sort of thing makes everyone feel so good.
Is it because in the same position we wouldn't have done the same thing? Shouldn't that make us feel bad? Or does it just make us appreciate people who do these sorts of things?
Is it because he's so humble and grounded?
Is it because he called out to his daughters to let them know he was safe?
Is it because he says he's not the hero and the people in Iraq are?
Is it because he did something completely and utterly and selflessly insane and lived to tell the story about his dirty hat?
He's being showered with gifts. Trump gave him $10,000. Disney gave him and his family a trip to Disney World, tickets and backstage passes to The Lion King, Mickey ears and stuffed animals. The MTA gave him a year's worth of free subway rides (cheap - they should give him and his family free rides for life). Other organizations have given his daughters scholarship money.
I hope hope hope all of this attention and the gifts don't change him. He's so nice. He's normal. He's giving. I think this is why people are going nuts. He's a sweet, awesome guy who did something amazing on the way to work and asked for nothing in return other than for New Yorkers to always be nice to each other.
Man. I'm almost crying again.
There's been all sorts of discussions about why this sort of thing makes everyone feel so good.
Is it because in the same position we wouldn't have done the same thing? Shouldn't that make us feel bad? Or does it just make us appreciate people who do these sorts of things?
Is it because he's so humble and grounded?
Is it because he called out to his daughters to let them know he was safe?
Is it because he says he's not the hero and the people in Iraq are?
Is it because he did something completely and utterly and selflessly insane and lived to tell the story about his dirty hat?
He's being showered with gifts. Trump gave him $10,000. Disney gave him and his family a trip to Disney World, tickets and backstage passes to The Lion King, Mickey ears and stuffed animals. The MTA gave him a year's worth of free subway rides (cheap - they should give him and his family free rides for life). Other organizations have given his daughters scholarship money.
I hope hope hope all of this attention and the gifts don't change him. He's so nice. He's normal. He's giving. I think this is why people are going nuts. He's a sweet, awesome guy who did something amazing on the way to work and asked for nothing in return other than for New Yorkers to always be nice to each other.
Man. I'm almost crying again.
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