30 August 2006
my heart is going out to tonks right now
one of my terrific radical cheerleading friends moved from florida to tennessee and was telling me about the hatred of gay people. the homophobia, the "christian" hate--it's part of why she is considering leaving tn. tonks baby girl, i love you, and there's heaps of people out there who love you. don't let the hate bring you down and remember, love is so much stronger than hate.
29 August 2006
reader, has this ever happened to you?
crossing cobblestone streets, i suddenly was overcome with sadness, and had to bite my lip (hard, oh, so fucking hard) to prevent tears from escaping my eyes and tumbling down my cheeks.
28 August 2006
27 August 2006
nyc inaugural half marathon!
i ran the nyc inaugural half marathon today--and must admit i had a brilliant time doing so! i woke up just after 4am (an hour before my alarm was to go off, because i couldn't sleep). i got ready (hot pink shorts, magenta sports bra, ponytail, four barrettes (two on each side), sweatband and spent the rest of the time before my friends picked me up. at the start, we stretched, waited in long lines for the port-a-potties, and went to the start. after a bit of confusion of where the corrals were, we lined up. in line, we joked around and stretched.
the race itself was fun. i ran most of it with cara (who is about my pace, a bit quicker maybe), and my foot didn't hurt. we did a loop and then some around central park, and then ran down 7th avenue, across 42nd st (and we all got chills running through times square, HOW AMAZING!), then down the west side highway...it was brilliant! around mile 10, cara left to run a bit faster, and i finished in 1:47. i was pleased with this time, as the past three weeks i have been facing injuries and have run very little. i'm now a big fan of cross-training--prevents injury and keeps you in decent-enough shape.
after, we hung out, had brunch and i realized how nice it is to hang out with runners.
the race itself was fun. i ran most of it with cara (who is about my pace, a bit quicker maybe), and my foot didn't hurt. we did a loop and then some around central park, and then ran down 7th avenue, across 42nd st (and we all got chills running through times square, HOW AMAZING!), then down the west side highway...it was brilliant! around mile 10, cara left to run a bit faster, and i finished in 1:47. i was pleased with this time, as the past three weeks i have been facing injuries and have run very little. i'm now a big fan of cross-training--prevents injury and keeps you in decent-enough shape.
after, we hung out, had brunch and i realized how nice it is to hang out with runners.
26 August 2006
i'm *such* a dork
i went on the nyrr's website for the half-marathon again today (i already have a printed up map hanging at my desk at work, another in my home, and gave rachelle a third map!) and watched the commercial, "i run in new york" and got so excited! now i'm researching chafing and trying to decide which pink running outfit to wear!!!!
i hope my foot is well enough to run competitively (though i've had three weeks of shitty-to-no training with all my injuries); still, i can't wait! i'm running new york!
i hope my foot is well enough to run competitively (though i've had three weeks of shitty-to-no training with all my injuries); still, i can't wait! i'm running new york!
our standards
jokingly (but not) i said to rosa this morning as i scrambled our eggs, "all i want in someone is for them to live in new york and to like breakfast."
25 August 2006
quote of the day (i swear i didn't say it)
"I don’t think it will be hard to seduce him. All I have to do is get him into my apartment."
24 August 2006
keep those old journals...
so when you start feeling nostalgic, or confused, or wondering if you've made the wrong decision, you can look back, see how badly you hurt, and realize, yes, it is time to go on.
i watched reality bites for the first time in years...
and i'm still rooting for troy. michael is the practical yuppie but he still disgusts me. i'm into the philosophical, the thinker, the creative one, the artist...anyone but the yuppie. i don't like practicality or a future to brag to my family about. i live on dreams instead...
class
i've been thinking about class lately; class is one of the things people don't like to talk about. at my job, we research gender, diversity, race, sexual orientation...but what about class? class is something that generally we can't control (if we're born into it) but other times we can (like quitting our corporate jobs and going nonprofit--but even when i was working for "the man" i was def not upper class). people are super sensitive about class issues because they feel like they shouldn't have to apologize for it. (i'm so fucking glad we don't have titles, fuck that english "duke" etc shit.) i think the hardest thing about it is it's not paid attention to very often, so we don't feel like we need to deal with it. what am i saying? i'm not really sure. i grew up middle class, am struggling (a bit) now but still am unsure of what i am. i'm a single woman living alone, no plans for marriage, children, any of that. (marriage is a whole other issue since i live in a hateful country that won't allow for many of my best friends to marry.) is class something you grow into when you become an adult? this job is my career but i know it's not my only one. i plan to do it until i quit to travel--extensive traveling, and then settle someplace else.
and maybe where i settle class won't matter much...
and maybe where i settle class won't matter much...
22 August 2006
breakups
i'm wondering if breakups are ever truly mutual, if people are actually friends with their exes afterwards. i'm trying to be friends with t, but i don't seem to know how to do it. he disappointed me so much (and i ended it, b/c of that) that it seems i find it hard to find him sincere. he will always have a spot in my heart, but i don't think a breakup can ever be like, "well, we're just better this way" and the people are actually friends.
does, "let's just be friends" ever work? or is one person always wanting more?
i really like being alone right now. i like learning to redefine myself as me, as cherie, and it's hard, but i'm doing it. still, when i see a flash from the past, there's pain, and it's like, "this is why i moved on."
does, "let's just be friends" ever work? or is one person always wanting more?
i really like being alone right now. i like learning to redefine myself as me, as cherie, and it's hard, but i'm doing it. still, when i see a flash from the past, there's pain, and it's like, "this is why i moved on."
21 August 2006
beach me
I somehow became obsessed with the beach lately.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
beach me
I somehow became obsessed with the beach lately.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
20 August 2006
people obsessed with pvd
yup, me and peter. i personally know of three heterosexual men who adore pvd more than i do, who say, "i love pvd!" this is one of them; my friend peter and i, a few weeks ago. friday night we were both dancing our asses off (and hurting our respective injuries further, booo!) at paul van dyk at central park. i fucking love pvd. i never felt like i was having an orgasm while hearing music dancing at a party before. now i know what it's like. thanks, pvd, for playing dogzilla's "without you." i never danced so much nonstop to a dj--he plays no filler, just fucking brilliant music.
a touch of nature
an insect, or bird, twittering outside my window;
i am excited.
sad at how little nature there is in new york city that i become excited about this minor sound.
sometimes, the suburbs have so much to offer.
i am excited.
sad at how little nature there is in new york city that i become excited about this minor sound.
sometimes, the suburbs have so much to offer.
16 August 2006
coffee break
My coworker and I decided to take a break and sit by the East River to talk (we work on Wall Street) so we sat on a bench. All of the other benches were empty until this guy in a white dress shirt sat across from us. Being a territorial New Yorker, Candice said, "Ugh, why does he have to sit right next to us?"
We continue chatting when movement catches my eye. The fucker is masturbating himself on the East River Park & Wall Street, right next to the tourist-filled South Street Seaport. "Get up, move, now!" I tell Candice. She follows and I say, "Quicker!"
I turn around and see him walking away. He knew we knew. I screamed, "Pervert!" and he started running. "PERVERT!"
Next time I need to take a photo. I'm glad I yelled pervert but what a total asshole. Ugh. The last thing I need/want to see in the middle of the day is some middle-age exhibitionist's disgusting penis.
We continue chatting when movement catches my eye. The fucker is masturbating himself on the East River Park & Wall Street, right next to the tourist-filled South Street Seaport. "Get up, move, now!" I tell Candice. She follows and I say, "Quicker!"
I turn around and see him walking away. He knew we knew. I screamed, "Pervert!" and he started running. "PERVERT!"
Next time I need to take a photo. I'm glad I yelled pervert but what a total asshole. Ugh. The last thing I need/want to see in the middle of the day is some middle-age exhibitionist's disgusting penis.
enough cryin lyrics
Enough Cryin' Lyrics
Mary J. Blige
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Rewind that!
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Chorus:
Don't wanna
Play house
No more
So dumb
To think
You gon'
Marry me
I got to be out
My mind
To think I
Need someone
To carry me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
It's time
I choose
My foes
Choose my friends
Be with my family
Baby, listen
Girlfriend
Where you been?
We ain't seen
You in weeks
Been chasin'
This fool around
Thinkin' he gon'
Hold me down
I would
Follow his lead
Thinkin' I would
Be the one
He keep around
When I ain't need
Not ya finance
And all that
I needed
Real commitment
I really couldn't see it
Not the real man
Said you was being
In this relationship
So many men
Think all
A girl needs
Is to be sold
A dream
But I won't
Fall for it
Repeat Chorus 1x
Bridge:
Don't wanna
Play house no more
You treat me wrong
Tired of you
Playin' me
I been lookin'
At the front door
This ain't yours
So let me do me
Don't wanna
Play house no more
No more
Tired of you
Playin' me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
It's time
I do
Something for Me
Brook's Rap:
You turned ya back
And back
I came runnin'
But the simple
Fact is
That you
Ain't want me
I done enough
Lyin' and cryin'
To myself
Nothin' left
To do but move
What else
Can I do but leave?
I believed-ed you
When Mary need
But now I gotta breeze
I be's with LT
When you come
To ya senses
But then
It's too late
That's always
How it be
Catch me
With the B's
On the wheels
Giuseppe on the heels
Shoulda Marc Jacob
Fe Fe bag me
When you had me
Next dude
Will gladly
Pick up
Where you left off
Ice me
Wife me
You ain't gon'
Have me
[Mary]
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
Repeat Chorus 2x
Mary J. Blige
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Rewind that!
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Chorus:
Don't wanna
Play house
No more
So dumb
To think
You gon'
Marry me
I got to be out
My mind
To think I
Need someone
To carry me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
It's time
I choose
My foes
Choose my friends
Be with my family
Baby, listen
Girlfriend
Where you been?
We ain't seen
You in weeks
Been chasin'
This fool around
Thinkin' he gon'
Hold me down
I would
Follow his lead
Thinkin' I would
Be the one
He keep around
When I ain't need
Not ya finance
And all that
I needed
Real commitment
I really couldn't see it
Not the real man
Said you was being
In this relationship
So many men
Think all
A girl needs
Is to be sold
A dream
But I won't
Fall for it
Repeat Chorus 1x
Bridge:
Don't wanna
Play house no more
You treat me wrong
Tired of you
Playin' me
I been lookin'
At the front door
This ain't yours
So let me do me
Don't wanna
Play house no more
No more
Tired of you
Playin' me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
It's time
I do
Something for Me
Brook's Rap:
You turned ya back
And back
I came runnin'
But the simple
Fact is
That you
Ain't want me
I done enough
Lyin' and cryin'
To myself
Nothin' left
To do but move
What else
Can I do but leave?
I believed-ed you
When Mary need
But now I gotta breeze
I be's with LT
When you come
To ya senses
But then
It's too late
That's always
How it be
Catch me
With the B's
On the wheels
Giuseppe on the heels
Shoulda Marc Jacob
Fe Fe bag me
When you had me
Next dude
Will gladly
Pick up
Where you left off
Ice me
Wife me
You ain't gon'
Have me
[Mary]
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
Repeat Chorus 2x
15 August 2006
sometimes my friends can be bitches but i need them to be
well, that situation related to my own situation w/b... it was just pathetic & i was like 'why am i longing for this person who is not here & hasn t taken another step to be w/me (if we wants to be w/me soo much- as he says.' i think it s def. over for that ill scenario, i m not hanging onto it (from jessica)
thanks, jessica. i know i've been hanging onto the impossible. love is so complicated, so hard, but i can't hold onto it anymore. instead, i feel sad for what i've lost.
i need to smile and look forward to the future, put a brave face on: even if i don't feel brave, i must persevere.
please, be harsh to your friends when they are in love. they may be in love with someone from another country or another state or someone who's married to their sister, and afterwards, they'll thank you for the slap. j's honesty and v's honesty--both of you--i never would have disentangled myself from this mess if it wasn't for the both of you.
even if i did think you were a bitch at the time, or thought it was bitchy, i'm glad you did it.
love hurts.
thanks, jessica. i know i've been hanging onto the impossible. love is so complicated, so hard, but i can't hold onto it anymore. instead, i feel sad for what i've lost.
i need to smile and look forward to the future, put a brave face on: even if i don't feel brave, i must persevere.
please, be harsh to your friends when they are in love. they may be in love with someone from another country or another state or someone who's married to their sister, and afterwards, they'll thank you for the slap. j's honesty and v's honesty--both of you--i never would have disentangled myself from this mess if it wasn't for the both of you.
even if i did think you were a bitch at the time, or thought it was bitchy, i'm glad you did it.
love hurts.
did you know it's legal to fire someone because of their sexual orientation in 33 states?
yep, disgusting. gay marriage is a far dream away. at least in this world of corporate conglomerates, if you work for a big company, chances are they might be opposed to that and you won't be able to.
also depressing in today's new york times:
Ugh. I really hate the homophobia of this country.
also depressing in today's new york times:
Military’s Discharges for Being Gay Rose in ’05
Ugh. I really hate the homophobia of this country.
14 August 2006
why does my body betray me?
i exercise. i eat good--whole grains, vegetarian diet, mostly organic food. i sleep 7 or 8 hours most nights. i drink heaps of water. i don't drink soda, don't drink heaps of alcohol. i stretch, do yoga, don't eat heaps of fat or salt. i don't eat trans fats at all; i eat a minimal amount of high fructose corn syrup.
yet this is the third injury i've had since mid-june. third fucking injury. i have bursitis and my awesome doctor (who likes trance music and we like to chat when i see him) isn't in and is going on vacation wasn't there so i had to see the older doctor who is a total rude prick. manners are beyond him; gruffness is how he handles everything. i can't take off a fucking week of running! i am SO behind in my training already. i hate this. i am going to eat good and sleep and stretch and i am running as soon as it doesn't hurt. i hate my doctor. i need to run. he doesn't understand b/c he is heavy and obviously does not know the love that i feel for running.
running is the most important thing in my life. i lost the great love of my life; running has taken its place.
yet this is the third injury i've had since mid-june. third fucking injury. i have bursitis and my awesome doctor (who likes trance music and we like to chat when i see him) isn't in and is going on vacation wasn't there so i had to see the older doctor who is a total rude prick. manners are beyond him; gruffness is how he handles everything. i can't take off a fucking week of running! i am SO behind in my training already. i hate this. i am going to eat good and sleep and stretch and i am running as soon as it doesn't hurt. i hate my doctor. i need to run. he doesn't understand b/c he is heavy and obviously does not know the love that i feel for running.
running is the most important thing in my life. i lost the great love of my life; running has taken its place.
13 August 2006
getting back into the flirting/dating thing is an odd adventure
scene: the water taxi beach with g and two guys, one of whom is a huge tool (who g is talking to at the time of this discussion)
non-tool guy: you smell really good.
me (making a joke): yeah, i showered today.
ntg: no, you smell really good....like, it's dangerous. i can't keep away from you. it draws me closer to you.
me (feeling uncomfortable at what to say to that): um, okay. (i take a step back, smelling my vanilla spice body lotion and cherie perfume by dior (which is good, esp b/c it shares my name!))
non-tool guy: you smell really good.
me (making a joke): yeah, i showered today.
ntg: no, you smell really good....like, it's dangerous. i can't keep away from you. it draws me closer to you.
me (feeling uncomfortable at what to say to that): um, okay. (i take a step back, smelling my vanilla spice body lotion and cherie perfume by dior (which is good, esp b/c it shares my name!))
you know you're obsessed with marathon training when...
you find goo tasty.
goo (i prefer the power bar power gel kind) is a little packet of squishy carbohydrate-filled mush that you suck out of the little packet during a marathon or longer training run (or just randomly on the street, if you are like me). yum yum yum!
goo (i prefer the power bar power gel kind) is a little packet of squishy carbohydrate-filled mush that you suck out of the little packet during a marathon or longer training run (or just randomly on the street, if you are like me). yum yum yum!
shout out to v
just wanted to provide a shout out to venessa, who's one of the coolest fucking women in the world, and i'm lucky to be such close friends with her. she recently left a difficult relationship and her mountain town to move across the country to start library school and live closer to her family. and it's been hard but she's doing it and i'm so proud of her. perseverence is key, as we all know, but especially v does. she listens to me babble about my relationship difficulties and crushes (she helped me through all my difficult times with t and continues to assist me in romantic entangles, and is one of the only people who doesn't get bored when i babble on and on). she fills my mailbox with thick envelopes full of her neat penmanship, which is always a great surprise and alternative to the many bills. also, venessa has introduced me to so many amazing new bands and musicians...like miri ben-ari (the hip hop violinist--i fucking love her!!!) and the raconteurs and ani difranco and neko case and the gossip and the list could go on pages and pages--and music is very important to me, i'm constantly listening to it so i truly thank v for that. she is a supportive, beautiful, amazing, wonderful, intelligent woman and i am so lucky we are friends. thanks, venessa!
said by g late last night, leaving the red party
"it's guys like that that make me think it's okay to be like, 'pull it out and show it to me.' and then say, 'oh, you're not my type,' when it's too small."
this guy was so ridiculous. he starts talking to us by saying, "i'm just going to listen to what you're saying," and i said, "no, actually, this is a private conversation." he counters with, "is it about boys? because i think i need to listen to that." "no it's not and it's private, sorry." he steps away for a second and pops his head into our area and begins talking about himself, the big fucking bore that he is, not realizing that he's pissing us off and by not listening to us, not respecting us, his chances of getting with us are now zilch. ugh.
this guy was so ridiculous. he starts talking to us by saying, "i'm just going to listen to what you're saying," and i said, "no, actually, this is a private conversation." he counters with, "is it about boys? because i think i need to listen to that." "no it's not and it's private, sorry." he steps away for a second and pops his head into our area and begins talking about himself, the big fucking bore that he is, not realizing that he's pissing us off and by not listening to us, not respecting us, his chances of getting with us are now zilch. ugh.
12 August 2006
this exhaustion
this exhaustion i feel when i think of your face, when i lift my feet, when i inhale...perhaps it is what is the reason for this heaviness in my lungs?
sexy summertime
it's a gorgeous day. i woke up at 645am on a saturday to go running for 2 hours 7 minutes and 45 seconds--feel brilliant, if a tad tired. i may indulge in an afternoon nap but today is so lovely i hesitate as i would miss out on all the beautiful sunshine.
summertime in new york is filled with sweating, running around to see friends, heaps of free events, late nights scanning the sky for stars. running is also taking up my days, with early morning runs followed by days of taking in enormous amounts of gatorade (i love the xfactor blends, yum!). which free event should i go to tomorrow? luckily, all of them are in williamsburg or greenpoint, so i can go to more than one.
i talked on the phone with two of my friends this afternoon about dating. i said i don't know how to do it--i was in a 6 1/2 year relationship and now i'm just confused. it's kind of fun but mostly confusing; and of course my heart is torn. so i'm not REALLY into dating, or anything, but more really, thinking about doing it and how i don't understand it. like g, she has 6 page MS word doc with notes from dating books. i don't think i need that but at the same time, i wonder, do i need to pay attention to the rules? i prefer to think of myself as a cyclist...obeying the rules when they make sense (like stopping at a red light when cars are coming) but going when they don't apply (like not making full stops at stop signs b/c it's hard to stop yr bike...i know, i know! it's brooklyn-style bicycling).
i think i'll just live. i'll let things happen--that's the best way to live, in my opinion. i don't want to stress out like my kid sister who is worrying about washers and dryers and that sort of thing. i want to live. i'm going to take a nap, then drink some more gatorade, write, maybe take little lunie in the park. i'm going to enjoy my sexy summer--and you should too.
summertime in new york is filled with sweating, running around to see friends, heaps of free events, late nights scanning the sky for stars. running is also taking up my days, with early morning runs followed by days of taking in enormous amounts of gatorade (i love the xfactor blends, yum!). which free event should i go to tomorrow? luckily, all of them are in williamsburg or greenpoint, so i can go to more than one.
i talked on the phone with two of my friends this afternoon about dating. i said i don't know how to do it--i was in a 6 1/2 year relationship and now i'm just confused. it's kind of fun but mostly confusing; and of course my heart is torn. so i'm not REALLY into dating, or anything, but more really, thinking about doing it and how i don't understand it. like g, she has 6 page MS word doc with notes from dating books. i don't think i need that but at the same time, i wonder, do i need to pay attention to the rules? i prefer to think of myself as a cyclist...obeying the rules when they make sense (like stopping at a red light when cars are coming) but going when they don't apply (like not making full stops at stop signs b/c it's hard to stop yr bike...i know, i know! it's brooklyn-style bicycling).
i think i'll just live. i'll let things happen--that's the best way to live, in my opinion. i don't want to stress out like my kid sister who is worrying about washers and dryers and that sort of thing. i want to live. i'm going to take a nap, then drink some more gatorade, write, maybe take little lunie in the park. i'm going to enjoy my sexy summer--and you should too.
06 August 2006
vivir
to live. are you really living? or are you just really getting by, scraping by, breathing and sleeping and eating and excreting but giving off nothing but excess?
03 August 2006
one night of fire
had one of the most amazing nights of my life on friday: combine fire with artists with fantastic energy with a roaming street party and you have one night of fire. over two thousand people joined in this night of fire.
we met on the infamous brooklyn bridge--the one tourists (this night, bewildered tourists) go on to take photos of the skyline, of themselves, and of the bridge. i got there several minutes late to a bridge full of stilt-walkers, drummers, cyclists, costumed people, radical cheerleaders (yup, that's me!), wigs, colors (esp red, orange, and yellow), boomboxes, drummers, and life. i could feel an incredible energy. i describe complacent party attendants as "hippies in new york city"--free spirits, artists, creative people, revelers. i met up with friends--some cheerleaders (patrick, gwendolyn, veronica (surprise! yay!) and jinxy (another surprise) and rachelle and peter--and had heaps of fun. i shared my homemade sangria (yum!) with friends and strangers while we struggled to remove fruit chunks with chopsticks. (next time i make sangria for a street party, i'm going to puree the fruit first.)
after a tug of war between manhattan and brooklyn (brooklyn won) we headed to cadman plaza park. cops and pedestrians looked bewildered as our massive group left the bridge. in the plaza, there was chanting, there was drumming, there was dancing, there was singing, there were hugs and love and sharing and glowing jewelry and wigs becoming lopsided but who cared? we were having fun.
but this street party was confusing: no one (except the tight-lipped organizers) knew where we were going. i didn't care; i liked the freedom in not knowing where my night would lead me. i danced, swirling and watching my dress billow around me (and showing off my pink striped underwear that matched my pink striped dress).
we started moving. we weren't sure where, but we were moving. we were going away from the f york st station (where i thought we would be leaving from). our parade continued down streets, cars stopping to shout (and because our crowds prevented them from driving), "what is this?" "a street party! join us!" we shouted, dancing, feeling no pain, feeling, finally, the taste of freedom.
i hugged friends, jumped into arms, shared sangria. but please, don't think it was a night of alcohol; i rarely saw alcohol. the sharing of sangria was a beautiful social occasion; it was delicious to drink and to share.
at jay st a/c/f station, we filed in. crowds. we swiped our metrocards, shouting, "where are we going?" "f train to coney island." okay. we waited on the platform while cops, people waiting for the train stared as us. who are these lunatics?
we are the complacent nation.
when the train arrived, there was drumming, stomping, clapping, shouting, screaming, squealing, kissing, hugging--a celebration in itself. we crammed on and the train sat in the station for several minutes while partygoers climbed on, rushing into crowded cars. when the train finally departed jay st, stomping, hands smacked the ceiling, whistles, shouts filled the air. football cheers i heard at world cup games filled the air. we kissed each other, crowd surfed, shared what we had, talked. confused passengers stared at us; our wings, our wings, our outrageousness. yes, we were having fun.
"this is not your station," a megaphone announced at early stations while revelers ran in between cars, finding a better party. people decorated train cars with posters. hearing the next car up was better, we ran there in between stations to find music, chanting, cheering, screaming, and an even better atmosphere. will the main organizer was there (who you can't help but have a crush one) and peter distributed gummy bears to a chant. we flitted our wings and fluttered our lashes and shared the love. "i have never had so much fun on the subway!"
we took the train all the way out to coney island, the last station. when we emerged, crowded, sweaty (remember, there were 2000 of us crammed into the trains, in addition to the other passengers there already.), shouting to be free. "we are free!"
"this is what freedom tastes like," i thought as people shot photographs and kissed and jumped and stomped and danced and twirled and welcomed the world.
we made a parade to the boardwalk, blocking traffic and laughing and spreading our love. on the boardwalk, we found the hungry march band already playing (i wish i had been in there train car as opposed to mine with a boombox) and i danced like crazy. people got fries at nathans. we shouted; we sweated; we had fun like never before. our huge crowd began slowly marching down the boardwalk.
people raced down the boardwalk. "where's the fire?" images were projected onto a building while hardcore techno and techno played. i danced like nuts.
a fire show began. people spinning fire, dancing with fire, spitting fire. the cops eventually broke it up, but to their credit, were rather cool, letting everything go on for a long time.
after the fire show ended, the crowd spilled onto the beach. whistling sparklers were distributed. once mine was lit, i ran across the beach, holding my glowing sparkler in the air, running for everything. when it went out, i jumped, "yes!"
people started swimming. "i don't have a bathing suit." people swam in their underwear. people swam in nothing. an image: patrick aka trixxi trash walking into the water, buttnaked, holding a cigarette. we swam, splashing each other, squealing, "i feel so free." stepping on a crab we swam away, splashed. who cared? we were free. we are free.
the cops eventually stopped this fun too. what a surprise. rather funny yet embarassing as people ran naked from the water through a sea of cops to find their clothes. laughter. "this is a fun way to spend a night." what could be better than this?
there was pressure to move back to the boardwalk, so we did. on the boardwalk, people hung out. a woman instructed patrick on how to put his stockings back on. rachelle and i shared a funnel cake. we spread the love. the stars--"this is what nyc is about."
we headed to the more secret of the two after parties, a dumbo loft i've been to before. sweating, tired, we chilled, drinking vitamin water and beer, sharing chips and love, dancing. first amazing tribal music, then live drumming (amazing--and it was totally spontaneous! anyone could join.), then this crazy, eclectic and surreal techno. i danced with my heart and my entire being.
at 5am, friends decided to leave; gwendolyn and i shared a cab home together. getting home, i showered to rinse remnants of sand from my body, feeling free, feeling amazing. my wings (i was a lightning bug) were rather damaged, but can be repaired.
for a night, everyone, we were free.
photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/drierp/sets/72157594220048195/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/classicgirl/
http://www.ahutchdesign.com/nightoffire/
http://www.601video.com/files/danger/index.html
http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=one+night+of+fire&z=t
video: http://www.youtube.com/results?tag=onenightoffire
we met on the infamous brooklyn bridge--the one tourists (this night, bewildered tourists) go on to take photos of the skyline, of themselves, and of the bridge. i got there several minutes late to a bridge full of stilt-walkers, drummers, cyclists, costumed people, radical cheerleaders (yup, that's me!), wigs, colors (esp red, orange, and yellow), boomboxes, drummers, and life. i could feel an incredible energy. i describe complacent party attendants as "hippies in new york city"--free spirits, artists, creative people, revelers. i met up with friends--some cheerleaders (patrick, gwendolyn, veronica (surprise! yay!) and jinxy (another surprise) and rachelle and peter--and had heaps of fun. i shared my homemade sangria (yum!) with friends and strangers while we struggled to remove fruit chunks with chopsticks. (next time i make sangria for a street party, i'm going to puree the fruit first.)
after a tug of war between manhattan and brooklyn (brooklyn won) we headed to cadman plaza park. cops and pedestrians looked bewildered as our massive group left the bridge. in the plaza, there was chanting, there was drumming, there was dancing, there was singing, there were hugs and love and sharing and glowing jewelry and wigs becoming lopsided but who cared? we were having fun.
but this street party was confusing: no one (except the tight-lipped organizers) knew where we were going. i didn't care; i liked the freedom in not knowing where my night would lead me. i danced, swirling and watching my dress billow around me (and showing off my pink striped underwear that matched my pink striped dress).
we started moving. we weren't sure where, but we were moving. we were going away from the f york st station (where i thought we would be leaving from). our parade continued down streets, cars stopping to shout (and because our crowds prevented them from driving), "what is this?" "a street party! join us!" we shouted, dancing, feeling no pain, feeling, finally, the taste of freedom.
i hugged friends, jumped into arms, shared sangria. but please, don't think it was a night of alcohol; i rarely saw alcohol. the sharing of sangria was a beautiful social occasion; it was delicious to drink and to share.
at jay st a/c/f station, we filed in. crowds. we swiped our metrocards, shouting, "where are we going?" "f train to coney island." okay. we waited on the platform while cops, people waiting for the train stared as us. who are these lunatics?
we are the complacent nation.
when the train arrived, there was drumming, stomping, clapping, shouting, screaming, squealing, kissing, hugging--a celebration in itself. we crammed on and the train sat in the station for several minutes while partygoers climbed on, rushing into crowded cars. when the train finally departed jay st, stomping, hands smacked the ceiling, whistles, shouts filled the air. football cheers i heard at world cup games filled the air. we kissed each other, crowd surfed, shared what we had, talked. confused passengers stared at us; our wings, our wings, our outrageousness. yes, we were having fun.
"this is not your station," a megaphone announced at early stations while revelers ran in between cars, finding a better party. people decorated train cars with posters. hearing the next car up was better, we ran there in between stations to find music, chanting, cheering, screaming, and an even better atmosphere. will the main organizer was there (who you can't help but have a crush one) and peter distributed gummy bears to a chant. we flitted our wings and fluttered our lashes and shared the love. "i have never had so much fun on the subway!"
we took the train all the way out to coney island, the last station. when we emerged, crowded, sweaty (remember, there were 2000 of us crammed into the trains, in addition to the other passengers there already.), shouting to be free. "we are free!"
"this is what freedom tastes like," i thought as people shot photographs and kissed and jumped and stomped and danced and twirled and welcomed the world.
we made a parade to the boardwalk, blocking traffic and laughing and spreading our love. on the boardwalk, we found the hungry march band already playing (i wish i had been in there train car as opposed to mine with a boombox) and i danced like crazy. people got fries at nathans. we shouted; we sweated; we had fun like never before. our huge crowd began slowly marching down the boardwalk.
people raced down the boardwalk. "where's the fire?" images were projected onto a building while hardcore techno and techno played. i danced like nuts.
a fire show began. people spinning fire, dancing with fire, spitting fire. the cops eventually broke it up, but to their credit, were rather cool, letting everything go on for a long time.
after the fire show ended, the crowd spilled onto the beach. whistling sparklers were distributed. once mine was lit, i ran across the beach, holding my glowing sparkler in the air, running for everything. when it went out, i jumped, "yes!"
people started swimming. "i don't have a bathing suit." people swam in their underwear. people swam in nothing. an image: patrick aka trixxi trash walking into the water, buttnaked, holding a cigarette. we swam, splashing each other, squealing, "i feel so free." stepping on a crab we swam away, splashed. who cared? we were free. we are free.
the cops eventually stopped this fun too. what a surprise. rather funny yet embarassing as people ran naked from the water through a sea of cops to find their clothes. laughter. "this is a fun way to spend a night." what could be better than this?
there was pressure to move back to the boardwalk, so we did. on the boardwalk, people hung out. a woman instructed patrick on how to put his stockings back on. rachelle and i shared a funnel cake. we spread the love. the stars--"this is what nyc is about."
we headed to the more secret of the two after parties, a dumbo loft i've been to before. sweating, tired, we chilled, drinking vitamin water and beer, sharing chips and love, dancing. first amazing tribal music, then live drumming (amazing--and it was totally spontaneous! anyone could join.), then this crazy, eclectic and surreal techno. i danced with my heart and my entire being.
at 5am, friends decided to leave; gwendolyn and i shared a cab home together. getting home, i showered to rinse remnants of sand from my body, feeling free, feeling amazing. my wings (i was a lightning bug) were rather damaged, but can be repaired.
for a night, everyone, we were free.
photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/drierp/sets/72157594220048195/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/classicgirl/
http://www.ahutchdesign.com/nightoffire/
http://www.601video.com/files/danger/index.html
http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=one+night+of+fire&z=t
video: http://www.youtube.com/results?tag=onenightoffire
02 August 2006
the skyline is unfamiliar
to save power during this crazy heat wave nyc is experiencing, the lights are turned off in the empire state buildng and the chrysler building at night: my skyline looks different. it's sad, somehow.
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