"sorry i can't hang out tonight, i'm sterilizing my dirt"

so this morning my speaker fell off my dresser and landed on my favorite rubber plant, smashing its beautiful clay pot that t gave me a while ago. (sorry, t, i'm sad too!) so tonight i purchased a cheap ugly pot at my local florist, and got the dirt my dad gave me out of the cabinet.

i have been having a gnat problem so i researched sterilizing dirt on the internet. the gnats were residing in the dirt so i put the dirt in a ziploc bag, added some water, and zapped it in the microwave...and took it out and saw blood. i killed a worm. somehow this freaked me out hardcore and i ran outside with the dirt, dumped it around the tree in front of my house.

i'm giving the dirt back to my dad. he can use the fertilized dirt. yikes.

from bob dylan "ballad of d"

Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me,
"How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
And I answer them most mysteriously,
"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"

being single is great, but....

my back is sunburned and it's hard to put aloe on my back. partners are good for putting sunscreen on, and putting aloe on when you're burned....

but i'll make it, i know i will.

i thought of k when i saw this button

"a handjob is still a job"

my sentiments exactly--ha!

being single

thanks to jessica for inspiration for this

i just have been realizing, hey, i dont need to be with anyone. it's okay to be alone, to be single. it's more than okay; in fact, it's fabulous. i can be best friends with t, i can be single and dance alone, i don't need to be tied down to someone immediately.

in fact, i think i feel better alone right now.

i like sleeping in the whole bed, naked. i like eating pretzels in bed and drinking water after i come home tipsy. i like cuddling with luna and cat fur all over the place.

i'm happy with my life right now.

that doesn't mean i don't want to be with someone--it just means i don't feel the need to be constantly with someone. j has mentioned how she's jumped from relationship to relationship and she's so happy now that she's single. being free and fabulous is much better than being with someone...who necessarily isn't good for you or what you want.

c'mon, it's new york city, baby, you think i don't know there aren't heaps of others out there? i'm patient b/c i know sooner or later, i'll find what i'm looking for. but for now, i'm enjoying me, me, me, and the freedom i'm finding.

i compared dating to shopping in a thrift store. at the point we're at now, everything is used. you have to dig deep to find the good stuff--j, just be patient and you'll find those "designer rocker duds at this thrift store" if you look long enough.

sure, someone may be good-looking, but if i'm not into it, forget it.
i need more, more more--i need intellect, i need fun, i need spontaneity, i need chemistry, i need someone i get along with.

and until then, i'll keep on movin sistah!

i'm so bored of the U-S-A

i came back from london last night after an amazing trip: i saw one of my best friends marry his boyfriend of 14 years (everyone kept asking if it was my first gay wedding, and i was like, duh, i live in the states!), i saw one of the coolest people i met on my trip, i purchased heaps of tea, choc, cds, went out to some fantastic drum n bass parties, talked abt how hateful the us is...then i landed and customs gave me trouble ("why is yr bag so heavy?" i overpack and overshop!) anyway now i'm in baltimore for SLA which seems pretty quiet still...nothing happens for another hour and twenty minutes. but i'll update my london trip with photos once i return to nyc.

Terrific Dali Quote

"I never understand why at a restaurant, when I ask for a grilled lobster, they never serve me a telephone."
--Salvador Dali

it's my birthday today!

i started off by celebrating the day with a run!

i'm gonna beat asthma

i forgot to take my inhaler this am and didnt realize it until i was nearly done with my run. i struggled a bit, but i ran. i'm gonna beat asthma, i am!

i'm reducing one of my inhalers again!

taking risks

today c, s, and i went out to lunch. we began talking abt risks, abt breakups. it was insightful (and yummy!) and i am so glad i live in someplace where people are from all over with all different opinions.

"i broke up with him because i didn't respect myself when dating him. i am still in love with him, but i just couldn't be with him any longer."

"i give ultimatums. it's a huge risk, but you have to do it or you won't be able to live with yourself."

"i can't take risks. i hate being out of my comfort zone."

"that's when you learn. that's when you grow."

"learning and growing are scary."

"taking risks also introduces you to all sorts of new options, new things that enhance your life. eating aubergines was a huge risk for me--it was expensive that first time--but i love them and i can't imagine a week without aubergines."

and so on. risks are necessary for life. i'm not talking about bungee jumping or subway surfing; those are stupid risks, with death as possibility. (well, the first isn't as risky but i still wouldn't do it; the second is very stupid, especially as i remember being late for my first class in library school b/c of that high school boy who was beheaded while subway surfing.) risks are saying, "i love you," or saying, "i love you but i can't do this anymore," or chatting someone new up or adopting a kitten or cutting your hair or wearing heels for the first time. risks are about new experiences and a new way of thinking.

fiction: from a short story i'm working on about love, sex, and life

he says i look so pretty after sex. he says i have a glow. he says he can't believe how beautiful i am after sex.

from v

"I wasn't ready to face the truth, which was that you reach a point in every intimate relationship where you have to be brave, to move forward into the dangerous territory. Because if you don't, there is nothing left to do but retreat."
Steve Almond and Julianna Baggot WHICH BRINGS ME TO YOU

wait

did you wonder how long i'd wait for you? did you really think it would be years, and years, and years, and still i'd wait? i'd wait like that bride with her van packed full of wedding gifts, the groom off to get a pack of ciggies before the wedding, and never came home? i remember going with my daddy and seeing the van packed up--"and cher, this was years, years before you were born! this was before your mother and i got married"--packed with wedding gifts, and the rumour was, she was still waiting.

i swear i will never be like that.

sup

i had a pretty good weekend. i went to rosa's in CT on friday and i had a bit of culture shock (i am such a freak--the second i am abt to go someplace in the US i start panicking if it's outside of nyc (except LI i can handle b/c i grew up there) and getting all nervous and antsy and feeling uneasy b/c everything other than nyc is strange) but a really splendid time. i love rosa. we spent some time in nature but turns out, i'm freaked of dark forests at night. oh well. saturday i went to a rooftop party in the south bronx and got pretty smashed (etc etc) and then cabbed it down to the complacent party where i danced with too many friends and strangers till 5.30 am. today i spent the day with the fam out on the boat and at a family bbq (boca burgers for cherie).

but yesterday a lot of things hit me. i went to rachelle's to help her move her apt--b finally moved out! n came over too and the three of us really bonded b/c all of us have recently gotten out of long-term relationships (eight years for r and n, six for me). r was over b a lot more than n and i were over our exes ("why?") but we all felt free.

"dating new people is SO strange!"

and where do you meet these people? r had all these books like there goes the bride and some weird matchmaking books her mother gave her and i was reading them for a bit, but snorting at some of the advice. apparently, i have to look sexy while i work out. my limited tanks that i run in that i originally bought in seventh grade garner enough comments; imagine how much i'd be sexually harassed if i wore sexy clothes?

but i digress. being single is a very scary thing but at the same time, i kind of like my freedom. freedom to talk with whomever, to have a bit of space. i don't know what's happening tomorrow, and i'm rather savouring it. i can listen to specific songs on repeat (i currently have a playlist of four songs on my ipod titled "tracks i'm obsessed with" that i listen to repeatedly) without any faces being made. plus more space in my apt. more space in my life. it's hard, so fucking hard, and it's esp difficult when the decision can easily be reversed--but i know i shouldn't let it be, and i won't. i have demands, and they'll never be filled, b/c my heart has been crushed.

i said months ago to dan in an email, "absence makes the heart grow fonder, but neglect only leads to decay." i think that sums so much up.

"you have loved me too well and not enough."
--peter covino

what emily said when i told her i was no longer dating t

"good. another less boyfriend."

who am i?

i walk past the spot where i was almost attacked nearly every day, and i decided, "i should put a sign up here to warn other women." and the radical feminist i once was--i still am, but not as radical--came back. putting signs "a rapist lives here," spitting at cr's rapist, shouting back at pi alpha nu, writing letters...i was fucking FIERCE. i was hardcore. what happened?

i can blame it on falling in love with a man (who broke my heart when he left ny), i can blame it on living in nyc where heels are mandatory for saturday nights, i can blame it on growing up...but it's still there. that's why i'm a radical cheerleader at 26, nearly 27, why i'm going to speak up for my sisters who can't speak up...or who are too scared to....or who won't, for whatever reason.

but now i'm single, looking at the world with big open eyes. i work for a women's nonprofit, and know i need to go back to my roots: radical feminist activist.

the woman who was raped after dancing at a duke party...that could have been me. but it wasn't. the woman that was raped by those lacrosse players was black, so of course the media has to portray the black stripper (single mom, struggling to raise her family and go to the local public college) as opposed to the "wholesome" rich white duke lacrosse players (one of them is a graduate of chaminade, and any long island girl knows about the chaminade boys). why do people doubt her? shouldn't we automatically just accept it? i do. i believe her. i believe her. i believe we have to believe her. why the fuck would she make up something like that? it's a horrific experience to be raped--and i know--and i think the least we can do--the very, very least--is to support her.

but how can i get back to direct action? i was the one screaming, tears streaming down my face, in front of the new paltz courthouse about the injustice, about the blind eye the law turns towards women, especially women who have been raped. "she couldn't have been raped; she was wearing tight jeans." (italian court) "what were you wearing?" "you were a hooker; you can't have been raped!" "what did you go to his house before?" and too many other things.

maybe i'm in the wrong field. i always feel like i need to do something MORE, to help women. how can i? i should volunteer, i suppose.

but it's late-ish; instead, i'll just listen to old skool bikini kill, huggy bear. and i'll make some fucking signs to warn women about the scummy men who are out there, wanting to hurt women. i have been hurt before by men, and i'm fucking strong: i don't want my sisters to get hurt too.

hating menstruation

i know i'm a big hippie, but i get the worst periods. and when you get three in forty days, you start getting ready to throttle someone (namely that asshole scratching his crotch on wall st--wtf?!!). anyway, a new pill is abt to be approved that would make menstruation optional. and i hate the hormones of regular birth control, but to not have periods--to have sex whenever i want, to not be bleeding so badly i cry, to not have cramps, to not get depressed--it'd be worth it.

i've always been opposed to the pill--the hormones--but i am tempted to try this, assuming fda approves it in june! wooohooo!

anti-bush graffiti i witnessed around europe

the following are photos of anti-bush/anti-war graffiti and signs i saw around europe. interesting...

what my grandma said this morning to me, shocking me beyond belief

"i don't like that, cheryl. you need to play the field. i'm serious. i don't like to see you waiting. you're young and pretty and shouldn't be tied down to one person who's never there. i love you."

well said, grandma.

My favorite section from Blake Nelson's GIRL (my fave book in high school and still one of the best books)

"What I didn't understand that first couple days was if sex was so fun why didn't people spend, you know, like six or eight hours a day doing it? I felt like I could have. And I looked at all the grownups and older kids and the counselors and I thought how everyone on earth complains they can't get sex but why can't they? Just go meet someone and do it. Everyone wants to, how hard can it be? And even if you don't like the person that much you'll be having sex with them and sex is so fun of course you'll start to like them."

What We Really Learn in Library School

"Our society is obsessed with sex," said Rep. Sally Kern (R-Oklahoma City). "And I will tell you this: The American Library Association is out to sexualize our children."

I am a card-carrying member of the American Library Association.

i wrote this a while ago and found it while cleaning....it makes me sad as this is not even "foreshadowing" but smacking me over the head....so sad

It is past our bedtime. You are lying on my bed in jeans, t-shirt. From what you normally sleep in, you might as well have on your jacket too. I am sitting in the bathroom, on the closed toilet seat, thinking of what tomorrow will be like.

Will our fight continue, venomous words spewing from our mouths? Will you leave and never return my calls? Will one day an email come from you demanding I mail you that obscure item you left at my house, insisting I never get in touch with you again--maybe you'll want the cock ring to use with someone else?

Or maybe you'll have blocked me out of your mind--a kind of amnesia.

We thought it could work, admist the vast differences--an artist and a scientist, a dreamer and a realist, a financially responsible one and...oh, fuck the labels. we are different. we were different. we were so arrogant: oh, our love, no one else feels like this. we have something special.

yet on and on we went: forever unhappy.

what can i say? tears, words, embraces--all met with resistance. violence in the tossing, ripping words. i think of a missed yoga class tonight--perhaps if i went, tonight wouldn't have turned out so. my mind would have been clearer.

you are so clever, so calm, so cool and collected. i, the messy one, with my dreams and desires out in the air, acting and talking, australia and europe, novels and libraries. i want to do it all (and am determined to do so) and seeing you, my love, makes me want to forfeit it all, the world for the solace i locate in your embrace. and when i see you, my heart flips, yet you act cool. i try to mimic you but you are not me an di fail.

i wonder where we are going: not even us since that no longer appears to be an option, but you & i, separately. me, i've got big dreams, and you're number one in them. am i in yours? anymore?

who knows?

sad eyes want to die

this morning i saw buffy, my grandma's dog. a bit about buffy: she enjoys rice krispies, chocolate, eggs, pasta, cheese, pastries--people food. shit zus are supposed to weight 13 or 14; buffy weighed 26 until not too long ago. buffy is 14.

about two months ago, buffy was diagnosed with cancer. the vet told my grandmother that she could:

1. have another three or so months with buffy;
2. put buffy to sleep;
3. give buffy chemo, which might prolong her life another year.

my grandma was leaning towards option one, just letting buffy slowly go and eventually putting her to sleep, or letting her die. instead, my stupid aunt (who as my father says, "used to hate dogs, not give a shit about dogs, and suddenly she's the mother teresa of canines") convinced my grandmother to get chemo for buffy--not a cheap option. "you have to do it," my pushy aunt said. "i would borrow money if i had to do it." (this doesn't mention the fact that she once put a dog to sleep b/c it was old. that's when she didn't give a shit abt her dogs.)

so buffy has been undergoing chemo. the last time i saw buffy was about a month ago, and she just looked skinnier, but still like the buffy i've grown up with: the buffy who begs for food, who pees on the carpet when you excite her, who says hello to me. this time, i was in for a shock. i almost started crying.

buffy was skinnier: skinnier than probably a normal shit zu (so she probably weighed 12 pounds, maybe 10?), and she lost the fur on her face, giving her a bizarre and sad appearance. "she looks much better," grandma convinced me, but my heart ached. the worst was buffy's eyes.

in her emaciated, mostly-furless face, her eyes stuck out the most. they were filled with pain, with sadness, and i never saw an animal look like this. buffy was telling me, "please, i am in pain, i am suffering, i do not like this. please, let me go. this is not fair to me." her eyes were reaching out to me, and i knew she did not want to live anymore as she was living.

this i could not say to my grandmother. my grandma had seen the change slowly, but for me in buffy, the change was dramatic. instead, while my grandma fussed over where my father hung the fuscia my sister and i gave her for mother's day, i sat with buffy, talking to her, comforting her, telling her i loved her.

i hope buffy's pain does not continue too much longer. although i deeply love this dog (more than i've ever loved a dog), i do not want buffy to be in pain. if luna were like this, it would be hard, but i would need to let her go.

wait

She wasn’t sure what she came for but she was glad she was there.

She was waiting at the bar, not for him or for her or for anyone in particular. She was waiting, waiting for something, and she wasn’t sure what. She sat there, sipping a tall mojito, waiting, listening, waiting.

And when it happened, she was so relieved the waiting was over.

scary incident

today i was exhausted and took the bus to india st and didn't have the driver stop at my corner like i usually do b/c i didn't want to make everyone wait and some cute polish guy in his fancy car started hitting on me in polish. i said, "i don't speak polish" and he hit on me again in polish. "sorry, i don't speak polish," and then he said, "can i give you a ride somewhere? or get to know you?" and i was flattered but said, "i leave around the block" and ducked through one of those annoying construction-fake sidewalks (if you live in nyc, you know what i mean) and this guy started saying, "baby, wait baby," and following me and going to grab me and i freaked, and screamed, "get the fuck away from me! get away from me! get away!" and ran out of the fake sidewalk and crossed my street and i'm relieved i'm home in my safe apt with my little kitty and the sound of rain.

choice cheer

if you can't trust me with a CHOICE
how can you trust me with a child!
it's pro choice or no choice
abortion is a right
we must stand united and fight FIGHT FIGHT
so come on, everyone,
we need your racket!
'cause when women use hangers,
it should be for their JACKETS!

i miss traveling...

seeing new things each and every day...today i saw a backpacker on wall street, and thought, "i miss the days where each day was a new city, a new chance to explore, new people..."

later i walked up to cortlandt st to get my mum her mother's day gift and i saw a fucking tourist smiling having someone take a photo of themself in front of the world trade centre. that made me so fucking angry. i'm not ready to let the site of a massacre be a photo opp. how insensitive.

running is my religion

this morning, as i was completing my daily run, i mulled over various things on my mind. i let my feet take to the streets, let it all out as i ran, as i put one foot in front of the other, as i ran, ran, ran. i remember years ago, when i was moving into snow lion, my buddhist super said to me, "do you practice?" meaning, practice buddhist or practice spirituality with meditation, yoga, etc.

"yes, i run," i told him.

"ah, yes," zoran responded.

my roommate attacked me, "that's not meditation. you aren't meditating when you run."

"what about thich nhat hanh? and his infamous walking meditation you revere so?" i questioned.

"but that's walking! this is running! running is different!" said my roommate who never ran.

my super interrupted our argument. "no it's not. running, it's simply a different method of letting it all out. whether you walk or run or sit, it's all a method of un-avoidance, of meditation. i am glad we have a runner-meditator here."

running is a place where i can go that lets my thoughts flow, my mind is full of creative ideas...or a place where my mind is blank and i can truly focus on nothing as i push my body to its extreme. running is everything to me, and helps me better than any therapy ever could.

"i need an australian-american dictionary"

my friend alex from sydney has been staying with me until he finds a job and an apt, or until i get sick of him and kick him out. we're having heaps of fun, though i must admit i'm not used to the excessive drinking ozzies take place in. this summer, i remember once drinking water and my friend rocky from melbourne was incredulous: "but cherie, that's just water? water? let me buy you a beer. no, i have to buy you a beer." in the end, we did shots of absinthe and took photos. here's one of them.

anyway, since alex has been here, i feel like i have a roommate. it's kind of nice, although everyone knows boys never make good roommates. i love living alone--i generally walk around naked, pee with the door open, have my weird secret habits (i believe sex and the city touched upon these weird habits in one episode--i think carrie liked to stand in her kitchen eating stacks of saletines)--so this is intruding upon that a bit, but really, i'm having heaps of fun.

alex plays australian football (aka footie) and i went out with one of his footie friends to this australian bar--ozzie flag in the front, footie on the tele, lots of ozzie accents. ruebin won a 1k bar tab so we drank for free and got really trashed. these dopey american girls heard us talking and joined in our conversation.

them: so, are you guys like british?

this is the best way to insult an ozzie. they were annoyed at them, but since they were hot, ruebin (who was heavily smashed at this point) began chatting them up. one of the girls decided alex and i were boyfriend-girlfriend. alex was getting smashed and i warned him if he threw up he'd be sleeping on the bathroom floor.

girl: so how long have you guys been living together?

alex and i look at each other, thinking, is him sleeping on my futon with a pile of suitcases in the corner living together? i guess so.

me: um, a week today.

girl: oh how nice!

us: yeah...

girl: how long have you been dating?

us: ummm....actually, we met last friday....he flew in from sydney then....

girl (flustered): oh, well, my sister moved in with her husband after a week and they've been married for seven years!

alex and i laugh.

so i've been trying not to drink more than usual, but of course it's a bit difficult. otherwise i've been showing alex around ny, talking to him abt the city, having heaps of fun. he's really considerate and i think i've learned a lot abt australia since he's been staying with me. he's trying to turn me on to rodney rude, this australian comedian but i don't get what he's saying: half the time i have no clue of what he's saying, and the other half, i can understand what he's saying but i don't get the jokes. cultural barriers. alex and i have been using heaps of words the other doesn't understand and my dad said, "cher, where's your australian-american dictionary?"

for real, i saw one of those at the amazing travel bookstore in london and i need one of those!

on the bus yesterday

african-american woman: that bitch pushed me! i hate stupid white people.

me to the guy sitting next to me: i hate stupid every people.

the protest

saturday was the anti-war protest. it was fucking awesome. despite staying up past 4am with alex after he landed from sydney, i still was able to muster up enough energy to cheer. (i'm a radical cheerleader!) and cheer we did. popular favorites of the day were "masturbate don't detonate" and "my bush is better." we had so much fun screaming. i loved doing a thigh stand and screaming: if you can't trust me with a choice you can't trust me with a child! it's pro-choice or no choice abortion is a right! bush it is you we'll fight fight FIGHT!

the rads wooed the crowd as usual, and we screamed beyond the point of hoarseness. tears were in my eyes at the pain i was in while screaming. there was a fairly good turnout, but still, i felt the crowd lacked some of the energy i have seen at other protests. and most importantly, where the fuck were the anarchists? the rads are often part of the anarchist blocs and there was none. no other squads except nyc showed up; it was sad. the rc movement needs some inspiration. to read some cheers, or start your own squad, check out here for info!

fire

yesterday i woke up for my morning run, and as soon as i stepped outside my house, i heard helicopters. lots of them. i looked up and felt frightened for a second: something has happened. running to the end of my block, i could see what happened: there was a fire. i could see smoke, but it took me several blocks to see the building (at the end of my friend's block)--an abandoned building on the waterfront. i have never seen so much smoke in years--it has been the worst fire in over 10 years (besides 9/11) and the smoke coming from the building--it reminded me of the twin towers.

after talking to rachelle, friend and greenpoint expert, neighbors, and others, i learned that this was the one building that could NOT be torn down--though it was owned by developers and slated for renovation for luxury apts. it was a historical site, so they couldn't destroy it. however, there have been several reports of someone being sighted sloshing liquid on the roof of the building--and for the intensity of the fire--a ten alarm fire--it could not have been a random burning. the developer sounded like a real asshole in this new york times article and the fire was still burning earlier today--on my morning run today, i saw several hoses shooting at the fire, and a bunch of exhausted-looking firefighters. i ran home from work today and felt as if i were choking--the smell was horrid. luckily, the smoke blew north, and so it did not affect me...and it mainly went into the river, so most people were okay.

running in the rain

today i pulled myself out of bed and propelled myself onto the rainy new york city streets. i am a crazy runner: to qualify for the 2007 marathon, one must be a member of the new york road runners and run 9 scored races. as it is late april and i only had one, i ran this one. it was only a four miler, but a miserable, rainy day: torrential downpour was the norm, and my shoes were so water logged i felt as if i were running through a shallow creek instead of the roads of central park.

about ten minutes after being soaked outdoors before the race, i came to terms with the rain. it was raining, i was getting wet, and there was nothing i could do about that. i began to enjoy the fat splashes from the sky, the puddles, even began wearing the mud on my calves as if they were badges: yes, you are hardcore, a hardcore runner.

after the race, i ran to the subway, soaked, and squeezed water out of my hair onto the train platform. puddles everywear, rivulets of rain streaking off my clothing onto the train floors.

and i came home and showered, drank tea and read: and then i realized, it stopped. the rain stopped. and i immediately left my house to enjoy my wide open sunday, complete with shoe shopping at DSW and errands around the union square area. it's amazing how the rain affects your mood, and this rainy weekend has left me despondent. yet now, as i sip my yummy organic strawberry paradise purity juice, i know that spring is coming. we need the rain for our flowers and plants and trees, and the sun will be around to entertain us. one must be patient, and accept the rain.

and run with the rain.

springtime is a time for rebirth

i got a new job.

v is introducing me to all this music--who ever thought my new fave song is by my life with the thrill kill kult?

t and i are probably ending things...due to the fact that it's practically impossible for us to ever be together unless i quit my amazing job and move to wherever he is. i'll always love him but i'm trying to be brave.

i'll be traveling for sure, even if it's just short trips--ibiza in july (or someplace else, maybe?) and brazil for carnaval in feb!

i'm doing a bit of editing!

i started growing plants from seeds on friday and the first sprouts shot up by sunday!

i feel alive, happy, and full of new life in this beautiful spring!

a very new york moment on the street yesterday

the scene: 14th st between 6th and 7th avenues. me, walking down the street east, wearing a short pleated tan skirt, pink tank top, and a cropped pink short-sleeved crocheted sweater. hair down. chatting on the cell phone with j. an attractive african-american man spots me.

guy: mmmm. you look like dessert.

i keep walking.

guy: and i got a sweet tooth.

me: well, i just had my chocolate so i'm okay. (referring the chocolate gelato carin and i had earlier.)

i suddenly realize that is not the best thing to say to a black man who's hitting on me.

guy: chocolate? you want chocolate? i'm all the chocolate you need, baby. i got chocolate. c'mere and get some chocolate.

me: jessica, um, this guy, don't say to a black guy you like chocolate ever unless you want to get with them.

guy: chocolate? chocolate?....

his voice fades as i rush into the subway.

life, lately

i've been catching up on things lately; my apartment isn't quite so trashed, and the spring-like weather is just divine! today i went shopping and found a surprisingly inexpensive and cute pink skirt at brooklyn industries (ironically, at their soho location). i almost passed by and didn't enter but then decided to--most of their stuff is costly but i was having a free day. i really wanted to go shoe shopping but both macy's and dsw (my prime location) were closed. i found some cute shoes at other places but a lot of them have suckass return policies and i generally prefer walking around my apt in new shoes for a night before i decide if i want to keep them. so....

sew buttons, as craig would say.

i'm having all sorts of adventures i don't even know how to describe that probably seem pointless to most of you out there. like for instance, today i ran an hour and fifteen minutes and felt wonderful afterwards. or the fact that i am aware of the fact of the limitless possibilites of nyc and don't ever want to leave. or the fact that nyc is so fucking gorgeous, take that, the south, new england, wherever--it's a beautiful, beautiful place and i love everything about it.

about nyc, one of my coworkers said of e, "she's leaving because she doesn't love nyc enough. you live here because you love it. like the main sucky thing is, it's impossible to save. you live in shoeboxes because you can't afford anything else. but it's better than anywhere else--and that's why you stay."

and why we struggle.

laundry

the thing i hate most about doing my laundry is the day you do it, when you're picking out something to wear, you think, "oh no, if i wear this today i won't get to wear it again for another week or two, until i do laundry again."

how do you get rid of someone you can't get rid of?

sometimes there are people in your life that you'd rather not talk to for a while--you just don't feel like dealing with their gloating or their big ego or whatever it is--you just want some space. and they keep calling and don't understand why you're not calling back and keep calling and you have to call back eventually but feel unenthusiastic and know in your heart that you still love them but still, you just don't feel like talking to them right now.

it's not me, it's YOU!

so t and i established that we are having an open relationship; thus, we are still engaged in a relationship (not engaged, goddess forbid, a commitment and a ring, t doesn't know what to do in that area!) but we are dating other people. right now, i'm not dating anyone but t, but i could.

so i'm hanging out with a (which stands for asshole if you must know) and he is being a bit too flirty, and i say, "look, treat me like you'd treat a male friend. would you treat a male friend like this?" and he goes, "i like you a bit more than i like my male friends." i make it clear (and made it very fucking clear before he even came over, before we even hung out) that i would not be getting with him. apparently, men are fucking stupid (t always says this; they don't care, they still will try). he keeps trying, trying to cuddle me, touch me.

a smooth move: "are you a romantic person?" he asks me. i nod. "on sundays, spending the day cuddling in bed is good for you, no?" i describe how i love to sleep in t's arms, to spend the entire day snuggling and kissing--which we do when we have time.

he responds, "let us have a deal. why not we don't mention my girlfriend [who lives in poland] and your boyfriend and then we can hang out?"

i get up from the couch and sit across the room. "no, no, it's not like that. i'll mention t all i want and i am not getting with you. it's not going to be like that between us."

he gets all pissy. "you're hung up on your boyfriend. you feel too guilty."

no, really, i don't. t and i established we can date other people and i'm very cool with that. just the thing is, i'm not into a at all. i find him not my type, fun, but i'm not attracted to him--and he's crazy in some ways, not someone i'd want to be with. if t were never bored, i still wouldn't hook up with a.

finally he leaves, and i'm happy. i spend the rest of the evening reading and i decide i never want to speak to him again.

a message when i turn my computer on this morning from a tells me i have a big ego. wtf? i don't want to get with you b/c i'm not into you--not b/c i have a big ego. i quickly type back, "i don't have a big ego. i'm just not into you at all in that way. don't ever contact me again."

all these people i'm talking to are totally crazy. being semi-single in nyc is dangerous--but of course, an adventure!

yummy fake fake

i posted on a message board for good meat substitutes (i'm a vegetarian) and here are a few recommendations:

• wildwood natural foods--tofu--veggie burgers
• morning star farms meatballs--put it in broth with carrots, garlic, parsley, oregano and pasta for a good soup idea
• morningstar farms sausage links
• morningstar farms bacon
• trader joe's veggie burgers

here are my personal suggestions:

• most fake meat products from trader joe's
• dr praegers veggie burgers
• nirvana burgers (if you like spicy ones)
• boca chik patties
• smart links fake bacon (with eggs--yum!)
• amy's organic burgers--esp the chicago and california ones

my fave way for veggie burgers is to spread one side of the bread with avocado, the other with hummus (esp trader joe's sundried tomato basil or abe's roasted red pepper hummus) and serve the burger with a slice of cheese, ketchup and any additional things around the house like greens, sprouts, pickles, shredded carrots, etc. yum!

pictures from colorado--two are views from venessa's house, and the other is a view from a bridge over the boulder creek

132 BPM--What a Beautiful World

a few weeks ago i went to ps1. i saw some incredible video installations that even if you generally don't like video installations (and i generally don't) you will enjoy these.

first i saw johanna billing's beautiful world which was comprised of a group of students (around ages 10-12, if i am estimating correctly) singing "oh, what a beautiful world"--but it included shots of croatia at its bleakest. the clips of photos interspersed with the singing children was captivating. the voices drew me into the room.

the other video installation i adored also featured music. torbjorn rodland's 132 bpm was phenomenal. i could not look at the other art on the floor as his piece drew me into the room--it called my name and i could not enjoy anything else until i sat through it three times. he takes music that is 132 bpm--standard techno--and includes videos in clips of the light playing through trees and other parts of nature, strangely, also shot entirely in croatia (although rodland is Norwegian). i highly recommend it! i adore it! i want to see it again!

artists are the true creators and saviors of society because it is us who inspires others, who draws them out of their everyday life and brings them into a lovely state of bliss, or otherwise creates emotion. there are disagreements on this, and not all artists are fabulous, and not all are saviors, but artists are very important.

Going back in time

The past few days, I was in Colorado. I went to graduate school at Naropa for two years, and have many friends in the communities around Boulder. My first night there, I was sick, wearing a coat, and experiencing culture shock at how many youthful slim figures paraded down the Pearl St Mall, often wearing khaki shorts and long sleeved t-shirts with perfectly propped sunglasses, laughing, preparing for their next hike or walking meditation or whatever. It is so completely different out there, days and evenings occupied with philosophical conversation, Buddhism and Tibetan culture quite prominent, tea and coffee often several times a day with various friends, exploring used bookshops....

I miss my much simpler life. Granted, when I lived in Boulder, I spent much of my time mooning over my long-distance love, missing NYC, and stressing about money, but there's just something so great about riding your bike to work and walking, biking and running everywhere you go.

since i've come home

i went away for several days and since i've arrived, i feel immensely bitchy. my suitcase took a bit to come out of the big gaping hole in the wall, and there was a long queue for a cab, and i've been running around, doing laundry and running to the health food store for provisions, and t didn't throw out the foul tofu or rice and bean leftovers (so my fridge smells like death!) and can't make my bed (at age 25, quite sad) and my apt is messy and i'm feeling cranky of all the things i have to do and my mom keeps calling, keeps calling to chat and "aren't you excited about working tomorrow?" (fucking no, i want my freedom!) and i am starting to go mad from being 26, almost 27, still having my mother know everyfuckingthing that i am doing and she only seems to respond to me being rude--which i hate doing but i don't need her to know who i was with and what i did and where i'm going. isn't that part of growing up?

so i am a bit nervous abt starting my new job tomorrow but right now i'm focused on cleaning my apt, cleansing the air, and putting stuff away. i hate being crabby but it's better than being angry. i'm listening to this excellent cd jennifer gave me and it's putting me in a much better mood.

"new yorkers are actually quite friendly"

on monday night, while waiting inside the C/E 50th St station, someone asked me how to transfer to the uptown train (you can't.). i told him you had to go out and he was all pissed b/c he didn't have an unlimited card and then he'd have to pay to re-enter on the other side. i was cozy in my little spot, writing a letter to v and waiting for laura, but said, "i'll take you, i have an unlimited." he was very happy, proceeding to ask me out for a drink instead of waiting in the subway and asking, "how does it feel to be a saint?" the suffering folks, the suffering is a lot more intense than you'd think.

we walked around for a bit in the freezing cold, trying to find the entrance (at this rate, he should have just waited for another train downtown to catch the uptown one) and talking. he asked me out again for a drink but i told him really, laura would be here soon and i had to head over to china club. he told me his name, kissed me on the cheek, and i swiped him in. i felt like he wanted to ask me for his number but i simply brightly smiled and waved.

at china club, i met these three irish guys in line. we had a great conversation, and they told me about their st. patty's day experience ("completely different in ireland! no one drinks like that or wears green!") and one of them told me during their week in nyc, they've had 210 pints of beer. woah.

i went in, hung out with charlie and adam and natalia and laura in the vip section, but left to talk with them. they were loads of fun and told me, "everyone says new yorkers are mean, rude. they definitely aren't. they're friendly. so friendly." i'm glad to have inserted my little friendly energy into their trip.

a lot of people think it's impossible to meet people in new york city. while sex and the city was a tv show, it was based on reality--i constantly meet people in nyc on the train, on the street, at a bar, in line for the loo--we love to talk. in crisis--forgetaboutit. we're all best friends. during the transit strike (not to mention the blackout and other similiar dramas; i was in grad school during 9/11 but i heard it was the same), everyone bonded together to bitch abt how selfish the transit workers were and how it was freezing cold and hurting their businesses and how horrid it was. yup, we like to talk and complain and talk about how two-year-old that wouldn't stop crying when it realized mommy had to walk to work. that sort of thing. we're rude, we have our busy lives, but we'll make time to make new friends, have a conversation, often hoping it will blossom into a relationship. i.e., "i met my husband while waiting for the stupid train one night. the train was messed up and we barely noticed."

quote of the day

"she didn't care about her other dogs, and all of the sudden, she's the mother teresa of canines."

--my dad about my aunt

and the neighborhood's going down

yesterday, a surveyor was on my street. in light of all of the construction on franklin, i asked the surveyor, "please don't tell me you're going to rip up half my street and put it under construction for the next year."

he told me, no, they weren't going to. with relief, i started to walk away, and then asked him, "what are you doing?"

"we're putting up a big apartment building. right here," he said gesturing at the area across the street from me. great. my rents will rise, and that will be even worse construction.

i need to get out of greenpoint.

coming home, alone and tipsy

i had this totally crazy night. this guy wanted the radical cheerleaders to perform at this club, and it was such a hassle but he kept begging, and finally we cheered, with mics, which sucked as no one could hear anything. we beat it after our performance and headed to prvada, a snotty expensive bar where less than one drink got me drunk. i'm pathetic.

i ran into this friend of my friend's whatever (not boyfriend, but it's slowly becoming that) and he was with his girlfriend. when this guy p and i had met two weeks ago he said something to my friend's whatever about me, and i barely remembered him but p apparently liked me. i was like, okay, whatever. today however, p had his gf. j was saying i could make out with him when his gf was around and i was like, "no way, that's bad karma." i won't do that.

besides, i'm waiting for antonio.

the virgin suicides

i remember reading the virgin suicides when i was in high school, selecting the book because of the titilating title. i remember being blown away by the incredible story, rereading it, adoring celia for her fearlessness, lux for her sexiness, and knowing they escaped the lifes they loathed. i escaped the life i loathed by living; they did it by dying.

fast-forward to my junior year of college, to my internship at zoetrope: all-story. the short story publication associated with francis ford coppola (he was the founding editor) had photos of the coppola wine and various movies, including the virgin suicides. there was a lot of hype about the movie, but i never saw it, for whatever reason i know not now.

now tonight, in 2006, before heading out, i had two hours, so i watched it. in between applying a thick lucious layer of eyeliner, trying on various skirts and tops (and unsure of the one i am currently wearing), i watched it. and was blown away with the beauty of the script, of how it was fairly true to the book. and i love sofia coppola's films again.

we all yearn for something more. we do this in different ways: by looking back over our shoulder at our regrets and wishing we could change the past; by consistently obsessing over the future, hoping and wishing. we need to live in the present and try to put forth our yearning into reality.

amalfi: i miss traveling

where i am going

moments before i thought i would be spiraling into the world of late night clubbing, relentless flirting, jobs that meant nothing, i found a job that looks like it will be a career. i think they'll be cool with my traveling addiction. i already decided i want to take all my vacation days in nov or dec, and see if i can work from wherever i am traveling too--hopefully someplace in argentina or brazil or chile or peru--all places i am drawn to.

that said, i have two weeks left to flit and fly; tonight, performing with laura at a club (cheering) and then maybe au bar. mon there's a party for charlie at china club, and then there's heaps of shopping i am to get to and...

so i think it may be possible to have a job that's rad!

decisions

so i have been bad abt updating this blog. however, some good news: i got a fantastic job as a librarian for this rad women's nonprofit! i'm super excited, and i even negotiated my salary; my job now wanted to give me more hours and if i worked ft at my current job, i'd get paid more...so i was able to negotiate a higher salary. but, yay, i can't wait!

i'm listening to the evita soundtrack (with madonna and antonio banderas) and if antonio were here in my apartment, i'd have sex with him immediately. sorry, t.

t and i also didn't break up. we are, however, going to see other people, whatever that means. i suppose that means i can have sex with antonio banderas, but it's highly unlikely he's coming to greenpoint today.

my grandma's dog has cancer and is predicted to only live another month or so.

i gained weight.

people from my old life--or, rather, years ago, have started contacting me again. it's strange the way time makes you realize how you've changed.

oh, there's the buzzer. i believe it's antonio. ciao!

only in brooklyn

the other day, while cooling down after a speed workout, i saw that the street had just been covered in tar. the previous day i ran across the street through wet tar and spent the rest of my run trying to scrape the tar off my sneakers.

"excuse me, how do i cross if i don't want to muck my sneakers up with tar?"

the construction workers paused, laughed, and being to gesticulate.

"wait! hop on!" said a passing older man--by older i mean probably in his sixties.

i hopped on his back and the construction workers laughed as he brought me to the other side. i thanked him profusely.

"so is that how people are crossing the street?" a woman asked me.

dancing away the wednesdays

last night i went to le souk to see my friend gal dj. le souk is an awesome east village bar--no, bar is too weak a word, but club is too strong (maybe if we lived in kansas we'd consider this a club but in nyc, it's too small), and louge gives forth the idea that we are just sitting around, drinking, listening to some dj while talking politics. le souk has big hookah pipes were people smoke (and yes, people smoke cigs there too, :( ), amazing food, great decour, two floors, a big bed to lounge in, and an amazing drummer who beat along to the music. it was fantastic. i danced a lot (in my librarian clothes, no less).

one guy started dancing with him and i'm feeling pretty solitary so i mostly ignored him. then he lifted up his shirt, flexing his stomach muscles, and suddenly i realized he's gay. i have a gay magnet in me; if a men approaches me it is because he is gay (90% of the time). like when jessica told me to talk to someone on friday night, the one man i picked is a gay archivist living in greenpoint. i was tipsy so i didn't realize it until halfway through our conversation that he is gay, and he was so cool. it's not like i'm looking for someone right now. (keeping my fingers crossed for things to work out with t, but if it does not, i am not dating anyone for a while. a long while. i will always have love for t in my heart.) an albanian plumber hit on me, and he said, "i fix your leaks. do you have any leaks?" i said, "actually, yes, my bathtub is leaking and my super is being lame and not coming over." he said nothing, then asked me for the eighth time what i wanted to drink, and i told him for the eighth time i wasn't drinking anything else that evening. gal gave me some of his drink tickets earlier and i was done. i don't need to drink to have fun--plus i'm starting to train more seriously in my running so i don't want to be drunk if i have to do a speed workout.

at nearly three i realized i should get home and said goodbye to gal. the dancefloor was packed, people were smoking from the hookahs, and the bouncer winked at me. i realized that this is my new york city, my life, and i'm happy in it. it's not perfect, but it's my life, and i'm doing okay with it right now.

international women's day/anniversary of my grandfather's death

i've already received two emails for international women's day, which is a great day, but i am more focused on the fact that is the third anniversary of my grandfather's death. i remember being at target and missing a call from my mother; "oh, i'll call her later." i'm glad i did because when she reached me and calmly told me the news, i had a bit of a breakdown, falling on the floor and crying hysterically. i somehow remember being in my old apartment (my old roommate and i were in the process of moving from a small apt on the 2nd floor to a larger one on the 3rd) and crying, crying, crying to kika and marie. i flew home for the funeral and was in a state of shock. he was the first person close to me to die. having little experience with death, and not having yet the buddhist nonattachment, i was unable to death with it in a mature way. i spent the entire funeral and wake crying, being of little comfort to my grandmother. we sat holding hands crying.

perhaps because of this, i feel crappy. i don't feel like going to le souk tonight to listen to music, to get tea with a friend or a drink, or going to work. i know i must continue, but i miss him even now, three years later.

t and i are breaking up but death is so permanent. if i wanted to, i could possibly rekindle things and work things out, even if it is 10 years from now. i could fly from the small south american island where i would be living to the great barrier reef, steal him away from his new girlfriend, make passionate love, and get back together. but when someone is dead, there is no chance to see them again. it is over. it frightens me. what happens when you die? i don't know. i don't believe in heaven or anything specifically; i'd like there to be more than your body turning to ashes or packed in a box in the ground to be later eaten by worms. maybe reincarnation; that makes the most sense to me. but honestly, i'm not sure.

what do you think? where is my grandpa now?

international women's day/anniversary of my grandfather's death

i've already received two emails for international women's day, which is a great day, but i am more focused on the fact that is the third anniversary of my grandfather's death. i remember being at target and missing a call from my mother; "oh, i'll call her later." i'm glad i did because when she reached me and calmly told me the news, i had a bit of a breakdown, falling on the floor and crying hysterically. i somehow remember being in my old apartment (my old roommate and i were in the process of moving from a small apt on the 2nd floor to a larger one on the 3rd) and crying, crying, crying to kika and marie. i flew home for the funeral and was in a state of shock. he was the first person close to me to die. having little experience with death, and not having yet the buddhist nonattachment, i was unable to death with it in a mature way. i spent the entire funeral and wake crying, being of little comfort to my grandmother. we sat holding hands crying.

perhaps because of this, i feel crappy. i don't feel like going to le souk tonight to listen to music, to get tea with a friend or a drink, or going to work. i know i must continue, but i miss him even now, three years later.

t and i are breaking up but death is so permanent. if i wanted to, i could possibly rekindle things and work things out, even if it is 10 years from now. i could fly from the small south american island where i would be living to the great barrier reef, steal him away from his new girlfriend, make passionate love, and get back together. but when someone is dead, there is no chance to see them again. it is over. it frightens me. what happens when you die? i don't know. i don't believe in heaven or anything specifically; i'd like there to be more than your body turning to ashes or packed in a box in the ground to be later eaten by worms. maybe reincarnation; that makes the most sense to me. but honestly, i'm not sure.

what do you think? where is my grandpa now?

In Erinnerung an “Dutch”

It is the third anniversary of my paternal grandfather's death. I miss my Grandpa. I wrote this after he died, unable to control my grief.

When he left us, I was at the gym, talking with an acquaintance about writing: prose, poetry, screenplays. I was struggling with bicep curls and lat pull downs. My grandpa was in my heart but I didn’t realize that was the only place he could ever live.

Grandma said it was 3:30. I never got to say goodbye.

Everybody deals with death. I’m twenty-three and had all my grandparents until exactly one week ago. That’s pretty lucky. Almost unrealistic. As if I didn’t know how to live because I never dealt with death. My first funeral and wake. I can’t comprehend death, I’m only twenty-three.

“Where should I send the flowers? Where are they having the wake?”

Me: “Why do they call it a wake?” Nobody is awake; at least not the person you are trying to remember. The rest of us look like we’re in a bad dream.

Lunar. His name on the moon. Lunar module. Mond. Luna. Moon.

You try to grow up but find out that when you’re twenty-three at a funeral, you’re the youngest one. Still. Always. Still the baby. “This is my granddaughter.” “This is my daughter.” “This is my little cousin.” “This is my niece.” So I can’t help but behave like that. Cry. Cry. Refuse to deal with the situation like an adult. I try to hold back my tears but I’m not so good. “Keep strong, no one likes to see tears.” But I thought crying is okay. A way to say you’re sad.

“I’ve been to eight funerals and I’m twenty-one.” “My family’s huge. I’ve been to funerals since before I knew what was going on.” “You’re so lucky. Lucky.”

No one feels lucky at a funeral.

I’m not sure how to act. How do you act when someone you love passes, someone you love to hug and give a kiss on the cheek to, someone that you always will assume being the same: wearing a short-sleeved button down plaid shirt, slowly shuffling to the pour another cup of coffee, showing my dad something in the Daily News and talking about the latest events in the world. Reading his newspapers and flipping the channels faster than he takes breaths?

Grandpa, you’re not supposed to go yet! Please, come back. You’re supposed to be at my wedding.

But he’s not. He’s in a box. Cement, I think. Pretty engravings. Silver. I wonder what he’s wearing. A blue jacket, my mother said. Those shoes with the holes in it that he’d never take off? Or did they put some painful tight dress shoes that he had but never wore because they hurt his feet?

I miss my grandpa. Grandpa!

My grandma said he’d never take the wedding ring off. She forgot to give it to the funeral home, so I wore it on my pinky until we got to the funeral home. It was big, way too big. I missed my grandpa. This was the ring he wore every day. The funeral director took it and promised to put it on. I wonder if they ever did.

I can’t think of my grandpa in that box. Lying there. They turned the casket away so my grandma couldn’t open it. But he wasn’t in there, he’s not. I keep thinking he’s going to be in the big easy chair with the paper and channel surfing. I keep thinking of Grandpa with his Russell Stover chocolates and yelling at me for dropping their dog nine years ago. I miss my grandpa. I want him back.

I never got to say goodbye. No, he’s not in that box. I miss my grandpa. He couldn’t hear me the past few years and it was hard to have a conversation but he still smiled when he saw me, even when he was in the hospital, completely out of it, recognizing no one, he would smile at me and ask me how the weather is in Colorado/New Paltz/Brooklyn. Why isn’t he sitting in the den with the bills, talking with my dad in the gruff German voice, calling me sunshine and mispronouncing my name as “Squirrel” and my sister’s name as “Militia?” Where is he?

“That’s not a way for a person to live.” Yes, but I still want to say goodbye.

“Our Father, Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name…” Is that the way to say goodbye? I want a hug. Goodbye Grandpa. I miss you. I love you. Goodbye.

orzechowe and other interesting things

my friend rosa was here and i miss her already. i like having other people around, and i'm excited for when my ozzie friend alex visits at the end of april. cherry blossoms and spring in the air! i can't wait! if only t lived with me...

the breakup thing is a bit strange. "i thought you broke up," j said to me, wanting me to be in the single club. we're breaking up, but t needs to come to nyc to talk abt it. i have a clue what will happen: i'll play my sad ipod playlist, we'll talk, we'll cry, we'll make love (or so i hope), we'll talk, we'll fight, we'll cry....and then he'll probably leave. it scares me to think of my house without him here. without him everywhere in my life. i don't see how it could work otherwise. perhaps we could just live in a fantasy world and continue, but that's not fair to either of us. i just want someone here, in my arms every night, making dinner with me. i love living alone, but living with t would be magical. i must swallow this bitter pill. i must do positive things. i must continue onward.

"you let go, and i let go too." --lauryn hill

things

instead of utilizing my only day off, i wasted much of the day. i ran a race, then made plans to go out, then decided not to, then called various friends. then t called and it was incredibly emotional. basically he understands our relationship is pointless as it can never go anywhere as our living situation makes it impossible. he is sad but he would never end it himself because he loves you. i am ending it because i love both him and i--and this relationship is painful and harmful to my well-being. all i want to do is sit in his arms, kissing him, because that's all i want--but we have no future. he needs to be somewhere that is not new york and i know i am not ready to leave new york. "you are such a bitch! leave new york for love," i can hear some irrational web surfer saying. i can't. when living in boulder, i sank into a very deep depression, and went to therapy for many months--almost a year. my therapist finally diagnosed me as having "environmentally-related depression" and said she was confident that when i moved back to nyc i would be fine. and she was right. i am much happier than i was in boulder--there i would walk around as if i were a zombie. here i am full of energy that i draw from the city of the world. i love new york. if i moved someplace else, i'd slowly resent trevor. i'm also part of so much here. the greenpoint community. my yoga community. my radical cheerleading/activist community. my many friends. i love my life here in new york. the only thing that makes it not perfect is t is not here. even though my life situation is not perfect, when t is here i feel happy, whole. i hate that it has to end, but know that six and a half years must end. the longer we drag this on, the worse and harder it will be. my only hope is a miracle--t finding a good job for him in nyc. and i'll leave nyc eventually, i'm just not ready yet. maybe in two years, if he is devoted to me like i want us to be, and living here, i will move wherever it is he wants to go--within reason. luckily, the bible belt is not known for its marine biology jobs. but that is merely a fantasy. soon i will truly be, as trish say, carrie bradshaw.

Lyrics to Lauryn Hill's The Ex Factor

This song really seems to capture what I'm feeling right now.

Lauryn Hill
The Ex Factor

It could all be so simple
But you'd rather make it hard
Loving you is like a battle
And we both end up with scars
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

Is this just a silly game
That forces you to act this way
Forces you to scream my name
Then pretend that you can't stay
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

Hook:
No matter how I think we grow
You always seem to let me know
It ain't workin'
It ain't workin'
And when I try to walk away
You'd hurt yourself to make me stay
This is crazy
This is crazy

I keep letting you back in
How can I explain myself
As painful as this thing has been
I just can't be with no one else
See I know what we got to do
You let go and I'll let go too
'Cause no one's hurt me more than you
And no one ever will

Repeat Hook

Care for me, care for me
You said you care for me

There for me, there for me
Said you'd be there for me

Cry for me, cry for me
You said you'd die for me

Give to me, give to me
Why won't you live for me
(Repeat)

Dalai Lama Quote

"According to my experience, it is clear that if each individual makes an effort then he or she can change."

tonight

the sadness and reality of the fact that t and i are breaking up has hit me: more than anything i want things to be resolved but as time goes on, i am accepting our fate and realizing our dreams of living together, loving each other, will never happen. we are two separate people and our link has been broken long ago. i know the only way we will be together is if he changes his ways, which i know he won't, so i am trying to move on. my heart will not let me but my mind is telling me, "cherie, if you love yourself, you've got to let this go."

george bernard shaw quote

"A reasonable woman adapts to the world. An unreasonable woman makes the world adapt to her."

Everyone Seems to be Breaking Up Right Now

"I'm tired of being my relationship. I have a relationship with myself. I want to be in a relationship where there are two people involved," said K earlier today. She is also breaking up with her boyfriend. Well said. We both agreed we're sick of doing all the work, all the trying, all the effort. I wonder if our boyfriends/ex-boyfriends will be able to find stupid women to do all the work in future relationships.

On my way out of work, I heard L saying on the phone, "There's no point in being in a relationship when nobody's happy." It was as if he said it for me, but didn't. How true, and how often we forget it.

why my boss told me to keep the jar of rubber cement i use when processing new books locked up in my cabinet

"let me see that," said a, a student yesterday.

i hand the jar to a and stare at him curiously. he opens it, and sniffs. and sniffs.

i grab it from him.

"this," i tell him, "is the reason we keep this jar locked up."

My Life is Not a Movie

today andy and i were walking around union square after lunch to grab a muffin or cookie at the farmer's market. there was a movie being filmed in the area, with signs announcing that if you walk in the area you may be on film. we ignored this in search of the perfect sweet.

"where are all the cookies?" i kept asking, knowing there is usually the small vegan stand, the cooky stand, the stand with the awesome ginger sugar cookies and pumpkin breads--we kept seeing stands of apples, rows of cider arranged rather formerly, and other veggies i haven't seen in abundance in a while. finally, andy and i discover a stand with muffins and apple cider sugar donuts. "this will have to do."

no one is behind the stand, but a cop comes up to us, telling us, "this is part of the set."

"yeah, but we'd like to just buy a muffin."

"no, we're not selling anything. none of these booths is. it's just part of a movie set."

it suddenly dawns on me that this is why no one had been standing in any of the booths. dejected, we haunt the streets until we find a crappy deli and get our sweet fix there.

perfume sample

i opened my latest macy's circular and your cologne fell out. i left it on the floor, and ignored it for a day. today i looked at the cologne, and opened the little flap. your scent exploded, and i felt dizzy with my loneliness for you. i put the cologne sample away with some of your stuff that i need to give you when i see you, yet still, your scent lingers around my apartment. i miss you more than ever.

how do we break up in 2006?

my breakups in the past have been a bit hazy at times--one of my exes stopped returning my calls, another made me listen to the smiths as we cried driving home, another told my best friend we broke up, i told one i was too busy to date anyone...in other words, it's hard to say, "i don't want to be with you--it's over." however, breaking up is harder than ever these days.

three of my close friends and i have been talking about our messed up relationships for years--about trying to break up with our partners, about how we try to break up but can't, continue in our relationships that are similiar to "treading water." two of them are broken up (in one of them, he made the call), and j even moved out--though they were still doing the whole sleeping together thing--which i think is what makes it all muddled. however, after four months, she finally cut him out of her life in all ways, and i'm proud of her. another one of my friends is living with her ex (this is new york city and moving out is a long expensive process, especially when you can't afford your rent without your significant other or a significant another) and another one of my friends is living with her ex but has a plan to move out in three months.

and me, finally, after forever and threats and crying jags and a basically crazy relationship, especially the past year and a half, well, i think i broke up with t--but i'm not sure. i told v today, "the only way things will work out with t is if he proves to me that he really wants to be with me by looking for a job here and by making more of an effort in our relationship"--which he hasn't put any effort into it for ages. he doesn't love me as much as i love him. and i give the fuck up.

all i have been thinking lately is: they say absence makes the heart grow fonder but neglect leads to decay.

so last night we ended it on the fact that we were taking space for a few days, and he'll come down here in a few weeks and talk about it more. but i feel this strange numbness--like if i think about it, really think about it, i start to get really upset and scared and maybe cry--but otherwise, i'm realizing, it's pretty much time this happened. our relationship has not grown in years. like i could not stay in boulder without sacrificing the growth and development of myself, i cannot stay in this relationship.

so how do we break up in 2006? you complain to your friends, fight, have "discussions," try, cry and say, "no, i love you, i can't end it," try again, try harder, fight, get depressed because you realize it is going nowhere, say you ended it, hang out with them, maybe sleep with them, look at other people and think, "i don't have a boyfriend but i have a situation," slowly drift apart, and one day, maybe i'll realize i'm truly free from t.

and that makes me sad and i'm still hoping my "situation" will turn around and we will be together. till then, i'm listening to my sad playlist on itunes.

happy tibetan new year

today for the tibetan new year, i went with richard to his dharma center. it was a bit of a flashback to my naropa times: the second i smelled the incense, saw the hangings, greeted the lamas, i felt at home. we sat and did a lot of chanting in tibetan--which was hard as the pace was fast and the syllables unfamiliar. however, i felt amazing chanting it, i felt calm, i felt at home.

i realize this should be a time when i need to make changes: i have an interview on wednesday i have high hopes for, and i think i may have just broken up with t. it has been going nowhere for a year and a half now, and he doesn't care, and i'm sick of putting all the effort into it, and i feel lost and empty and i'm hoping it isn't over, but i told him we shouldn't talk for a few days. so now i'm scared, but i know he isn't dedicated to me anyway.

my new year's resolution for the tibetan new year is to boldly create my life as i want it to be. the first step is living for myself, living in the now. i haven't cried yet, but i suppose the reality of living my life for myself hasn't hit me yet.

a temp job at a very unusual location

Today I had quite a bizarre day. I got a temp job arranging the library of this rich family on the Upper East Side. As I quickly learned, it was in the world's richest apartment building--literally. The couple had recently moved there and were redecorating. Our job (myself and two of the librarians running the staffing agency) was to arrange books into subject categories on beautiful bookshelves. It was an exhausting day (at a fairly decent salary, I must admit!) where I was teetering on a ladder in heeled boots (with booties over my feet; all of the "help" had to wear disposable booties when they were in the house to protect the floor, but not the missus and their friends), carrying boots, etc. It required quick thinking to determine where the book should be placed (not always that simple!) as well as climbing ladders, navigating small spaces, trying not to bump into insanely expensive furniture or break or stain or tear anything.

Their house reminded me of the Palace of Versailles. They had a huge staff--wearing uniforms, an intercom system, a kitchen the size of my apartment (not counting the staff kitchen and the wine room), marble circular staircases, marble floors, expensive rugs, antiques, foreign art, real paintings on the wall, paneling from France--the looked as if it were in Versailles. Words cannot even do justice at the gorgeousness of this house.

Of course, I also found photo albums of the couple at Bush Senior events (and later learned they contribued a disgusting amount of money to Bush Junior), and a book on how wonderful Dubya is and a Rush Limbaugh book. Gag.

It was so nice to check out all the beautiful rooms, but at the same time, I did not like the museum that was my temporary workplace. It seemed a waste of money, and so ostentanious. He works in the petroleum world, so I suppose what else will he do with his money? (Sarcasm)

Sigh.

tuesday

yesterday i heard some woman talk about her job, about days off, and i felt very envious. and i realize, seriously, i need to find a new job--one with holiday pay and vacation pay and all that good stuff. it's nice to sleep till 8am, go for a run, shower, eat some oatmeal while my cat plays in patches of sunlight on the living room rug, do my errands during the day, look for a job while listening to music--i like not working a lot, but everyone seems to think i have heaps of time (which i def don't--if anything, i'm busy, but not chaotically busy like i have been in the past). i need to get more aggressive with my job search, and i need to start thinking outside my box--in other words, considering corporate librarian jobs. the thought makes me sad but i can't really make my living this way, and working part-time, i don't feel like i have a "career"--i feel like i have a "job." and i love working as a librarian, and want it to be taken more seriously.

ecstasy is a state of mind

today i went to my favorite yoga class with elias, which i normally miss because of my incredibly annoying schedule. i take advantage of intersessions and holidays to attend his class.

at one point, he put on this amazing portuguese song with these incredible vocals and such high energy, saying prior to it: "for the next 4 minutes and 42 seconds you are going to work." and we did--throughout the sun salutations i worked hard, and felt my heart blossom (it is anusra yoga, after all) with the music and i realized several things:

1. i love t deeply.
2. things between t and i are probably not going to work out, and sadly, we both realize it, and we are pursuing it for some reason, but i have a feeling we will part ways soon.
3. i need to find a job that provides me with the opportunity to go to yoga. also a job that gives me more pay, normal hours, and regular days off, or at least, two days off in a row.
4. i must write.
5. yoga is a part of me. unlike the idiot who said to me earlier, "have fun in your little yoga class" (have fun with your little mind in your little world) yoga is not necessarily about improving my health and my physical wellness--although it does that. it is my spiritual and mental practice, and i adore it. it is like running to me, but different.
   

sometimes if life were the other way, things might suck, or at least, be totally different

latey i've been bemoaning the fact that i am not working a 9to5 (and thus rarely see many of my friends) but recently i've done several things i never would have been able to do otherwise. so instead of moaning about my lack of money, let me just say a few rad things about my annoying work schedule:

1. on thursday and friday, i did loooooong runs (8 miles) at noon. i got to run through the streets of williamsburg university (i swear, it feels like boulder over there!) and enjoy the warmest part of the day. it was really fun to just run for as long as i wanted and experience the middle of the day sights, like sva students arguing about philosophy over lattes at the verb cafe.
2. i wake up at 8am--or later. i generally get up at 8am so i can get a run in, shower, eat breakfast, and take advantage of my free time. i spend my mornings cooking, baking, job hunting, reading, knitting, doing yoga, taking care of errands. it's quite nice like that.
3. going out late. on thursday, i spontaneously went out to several clubs with this promoter--bed, spirit, and home. we had a really good time, and i hesitated ("no, i should get home") but seriously, what's the good of not working till late afternoon if i can't go out dancing till 4am every so often? i had fun dancing and meeting heaps of people. i love clubbing.
   
4. free time for interviewing during the days, as well as dealing with other stupid stuff like calling macy's credit card billing and other such stuff
   

two other funny quotes

"I don't want to date you, I want your money." (from a stripper)


'a girl doesn't need a boy to be happy, she just needs a horse' (from a little sweet english girl). damn straight.

quote of the day

"i tried so hard not to have sex with him. i didn't shave my legs, i wore ugly underwear, and i had my period! i don't know how it happened."