here are my favorite books:
1. girlfriend in a coma by douglas coupland
say your girlfriend goes into a coma, and years pass, all sorts of incidents which i really don't want to reveal, and then the world ends. what would you do? really?
2. atlas of the human heart by ariel gore
ariel gore's memoir is everything i wished i could have been when i was younger but i was too wussy to be. she travels around the world, and for sure, i'll be rereading that before my trip.
3. requiem for a dream by hubert selby, jr.
i wrote my mfa thesis (critical) on selby. i became obsessed with him, reading and rereading his books, listening to the requiem soundtrack while writing this paper. this is his best. sad, yes, but amazing writing. amazing.
and a shout out to my coworker libby schmais. she's an awesome writer, and funny! at times one might think "oh it's another chick lit book" but no, it's much better. to put it on the same level as the devil wears prada...no, libby is much better. in real life, libby is very funny, listens to my crazy stories, shakes her head, makes me feel young. her protagonists are often researchers, searching for love, searching for self, and they're just terrific. i love libby's books, honestly, not just 'cause i work with her. when i interviewed for the job, my boss told me about libby's book. when i read her books--first from the library, later i bought them--i didn't tell libby in case i didn't like her books. but i LOVED them! funny, involving, a book that keeps you up late at night.
to buy her books, click here: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-form/104-5394787-2560715
28 February 2005
26 February 2005
like dorothy from the wizard of oz
do you ever seem to feel like everything is in black and white, not in color? and then all of the sudden something flashes--a couple softly kissing, a girl jumping into the sky screaming YES, the sight of an old friend laughing at your sight...
and i wonder how it was i got stuck in this black and white, and how i can get out?
the everyday can see so dreary, yet comparitively, i'm truly lucky...
and i wonder how it was i got stuck in this black and white, and how i can get out?
the everyday can see so dreary, yet comparitively, i'm truly lucky...
if i wasn't me...
i was thinking before, if i was a gay man (which i feel closer to than anyone; girls fall in love and leave you, boys want to get in yr pants, even if yr in love with someone else!), i would totally be into bears and hard-bodied gay men. yum!
i seriously think gay men are more attractive than most straight guys!
i seriously think gay men are more attractive than most straight guys!
25 February 2005
loving you
i'm posting this. you'll probably never read this, but someone should.
i miss you.
i miss fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes, how much hair from my cat is everywhere, i miss me grabbing all the sheets and you being grumpy about it. i miss everything about you.
long distance doesn’t even touch what used to be us. everything is rush—you miss new york than you’ll ever speak of, instead eating out with a frenzy, burmese, pan-asian, yaffa café, dojo’s, who knows what else. you run to your best friend’s house at 10pm, promise to be back soon. i wake up at 4am to an empty bed.
still i miss you.
but this has me wondering: what if that specific night, i stayed on the phone with d longer, or maybe you came over and i told you later, or i went back to my room to stretch and read victorian novels or dye my hair pink or purple or whatever i felt like? what if i didn’t go to your room, to experience that kiss which transformed me, transformed us, made me gasp: omigod, i think i’m in love with my best friend. would it have happened another day?
and is there love at first sight? all of my loves started as friendships; one relationship i had started with an infatuation with dark black hair combined with clear blue eyes: hottness, the radicatz would say (yes, two Ts). that started physical; we never got too deep. (we were in high school, what can i say?)
and you see these matching websites, have you noticed all of the couples that got married did it like three months after they met each other? desperate? i don’t know, you tell me. physical looks are nothing to base a relationship on. it’s the mind, and the feeling you get. but, of course, you do need chemistry.
falling asleep
like some airplane crash
you drive a little longer
so you don’t have to wake me up (inara george)
and thinking of you, so far yet always so close in my heart, i realize, some things are out of our control. and i think there is no way at all to be separated from you. distance, yes, we get in a fight and we go into our own worlds. but i think with love, we are too close.
i miss you.
i miss fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes, how much hair from my cat is everywhere, i miss me grabbing all the sheets and you being grumpy about it. i miss everything about you.
long distance doesn’t even touch what used to be us. everything is rush—you miss new york than you’ll ever speak of, instead eating out with a frenzy, burmese, pan-asian, yaffa café, dojo’s, who knows what else. you run to your best friend’s house at 10pm, promise to be back soon. i wake up at 4am to an empty bed.
still i miss you.
but this has me wondering: what if that specific night, i stayed on the phone with d longer, or maybe you came over and i told you later, or i went back to my room to stretch and read victorian novels or dye my hair pink or purple or whatever i felt like? what if i didn’t go to your room, to experience that kiss which transformed me, transformed us, made me gasp: omigod, i think i’m in love with my best friend. would it have happened another day?
and is there love at first sight? all of my loves started as friendships; one relationship i had started with an infatuation with dark black hair combined with clear blue eyes: hottness, the radicatz would say (yes, two Ts). that started physical; we never got too deep. (we were in high school, what can i say?)
and you see these matching websites, have you noticed all of the couples that got married did it like three months after they met each other? desperate? i don’t know, you tell me. physical looks are nothing to base a relationship on. it’s the mind, and the feeling you get. but, of course, you do need chemistry.
falling asleep
like some airplane crash
you drive a little longer
so you don’t have to wake me up (inara george)
and thinking of you, so far yet always so close in my heart, i realize, some things are out of our control. and i think there is no way at all to be separated from you. distance, yes, we get in a fight and we go into our own worlds. but i think with love, we are too close.
i am not corporate
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out
corporate lifestyle sucks
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
corporate lifestyle sucks
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
20 February 2005
not wanting to leave
i love my little apartment. recently, i got a rug, some new throws and pillows, a new bookshelf, even a vacuum. if my weekends are fairly free (like this one), i do my errands and brunches and school assignments, and then spend the rest of the time IN and full a part of my apartment. i am constantly arranging things, getting rid of things i do not need (the new york city curse), relaxing in my futon. the new bookshelf has forced me to nerdily examine my books (even deem which is acceptable for selling on amazon) and i am really loving my apartment. it feels so cozy. i never want to leave.
of course in new york city, you visit a friend’s apartment, and you crave the neighborhood (“a little café just underneath the apartment, with the park within spitting distance!”), you crave the decor (“simple white with bold red—gorgeous!”), you crave the aparment (“what an amazing deal! for so much space, and look at the slopes in the walls, and the character this apartment has!”). and lately, i’m really loving my apartment.
i have a great community at yoga and the health food store, know a lot of the people in my neighborhood, am friends with the guys below me, and LOVE my apartment—the walls MY FAMILY and I painted, the stuff i worked so hard to find, the furniture from my parents, from relatives’ basements, from ikea. i love everything being so cozy, and i don’t want to give up the lease.
i should, i suppose. i’d have to worry about someone subletting my apartment, and if they would be trustworthy. and what if they fucked something up? and what if my landlord won’t let me or finds out if i don’t tell him? i also would be coming back straight into a lease of $975 (assuming my landlord doesn’t raise the rent!) and what if i don’t have a job right away—or what if i get a job and can’t afford my rent? after my trip, i won’t exactly have my savings to dip into. also, what if trevor decides to grace me with his presence here in new york city by moving back in with me. that would be WONDERFUL, but i don’t know how long we could stay here. i’m sure we could manage—i could leave some stuff in boxes at my parents’ house or in storage (one closet just for me is a nightmare!), and we’d have to have stuff in storage, but i don’t know if t would want to do that again.
i guess i’m just hopeless about decisions, and perhaps you, dear reader, can offer me some suggestions. i do want to live near prospect park, and after my trip, i could afford to sublet or share an apartment, but i want to live alone. t not knowing what he plans on doing is also confusing. if he tells me he is staying at his job for two years, well, i honestly don’t know if i could deal with that relationship. it is too fucking painful.
in the meantime, while i attempt to make this difficult decision (which needs to be made in the next month and a half, if not sooner), i will enjoy living here, and make the most of my cute greenpoint apartment.
best of all, i can see some stars here.
of course in new york city, you visit a friend’s apartment, and you crave the neighborhood (“a little café just underneath the apartment, with the park within spitting distance!”), you crave the decor (“simple white with bold red—gorgeous!”), you crave the aparment (“what an amazing deal! for so much space, and look at the slopes in the walls, and the character this apartment has!”). and lately, i’m really loving my apartment.
i have a great community at yoga and the health food store, know a lot of the people in my neighborhood, am friends with the guys below me, and LOVE my apartment—the walls MY FAMILY and I painted, the stuff i worked so hard to find, the furniture from my parents, from relatives’ basements, from ikea. i love everything being so cozy, and i don’t want to give up the lease.
i should, i suppose. i’d have to worry about someone subletting my apartment, and if they would be trustworthy. and what if they fucked something up? and what if my landlord won’t let me or finds out if i don’t tell him? i also would be coming back straight into a lease of $975 (assuming my landlord doesn’t raise the rent!) and what if i don’t have a job right away—or what if i get a job and can’t afford my rent? after my trip, i won’t exactly have my savings to dip into. also, what if trevor decides to grace me with his presence here in new york city by moving back in with me. that would be WONDERFUL, but i don’t know how long we could stay here. i’m sure we could manage—i could leave some stuff in boxes at my parents’ house or in storage (one closet just for me is a nightmare!), and we’d have to have stuff in storage, but i don’t know if t would want to do that again.
i guess i’m just hopeless about decisions, and perhaps you, dear reader, can offer me some suggestions. i do want to live near prospect park, and after my trip, i could afford to sublet or share an apartment, but i want to live alone. t not knowing what he plans on doing is also confusing. if he tells me he is staying at his job for two years, well, i honestly don’t know if i could deal with that relationship. it is too fucking painful.
in the meantime, while i attempt to make this difficult decision (which needs to be made in the next month and a half, if not sooner), i will enjoy living here, and make the most of my cute greenpoint apartment.
best of all, i can see some stars here.
19 February 2005
mess
when we were little, we made up a song abt my messy sister, to the tune of "she's a maneater." it went
something like this,
"who-a, here she comes,
watch out, boy, she'll mess your room up,
who-a here she comes,
she's meliss-a!"
tonight my apt is super messy. i got a new bookshelf (i heart mom and dad, and ikea) and have been rearranging my books. thank goddess i love alone, so no one will tease me. here are my sections in my library:
in the bedroom:
journals
poetry
douglas coupland
hubert selby, jr.
library books
in the south bookshelf:
general fiction, alphabetized
women's health section
personal manuscripts (by moi)
running
cookbooks
radical cheerleading archives
in the new ikea bookshelves:
anthologies
literary magazines
books i haven't read yet (i want to read these but am always so busy, and library books have due dates...damn, i just need to freakin read the book lissy gave me for xmas already!)
photo albums
library school text books and professional library books
yoga books
fiction/writer's guides
coffee table books
writer's reference: writer's market type books, name book
general reference: dictionary, thesaurus, stylebooks, spanish-english dictionary
next to the futon are a stack of europe books i have been flipping through; behind the tv are books i am attempting to sell on amazon (seller name cheriecat should you want to buy an library texts or other random books); in the closet are literary journals i am going to bring to CO for venessa in april.
i love words. i love books, i couldn't live without them. this summer, it will be hard. if i bring my pocket pc, i'll read 'war and peace' and other long books via project gutenberg http://promo.net/pg/
until then, i am surrounded by books. i seek solace in libraries. when people ask how did i know i would be a librarian, i know it is because i have always returned to libraries for comfort, for books to help me through my crisises, for books to learn and books to explore myself.
READ!
something like this,
"who-a, here she comes,
watch out, boy, she'll mess your room up,
who-a here she comes,
she's meliss-a!"
tonight my apt is super messy. i got a new bookshelf (i heart mom and dad, and ikea) and have been rearranging my books. thank goddess i love alone, so no one will tease me. here are my sections in my library:
in the bedroom:
journals
poetry
douglas coupland
hubert selby, jr.
library books
in the south bookshelf:
general fiction, alphabetized
women's health section
personal manuscripts (by moi)
running
cookbooks
radical cheerleading archives
in the new ikea bookshelves:
anthologies
literary magazines
books i haven't read yet (i want to read these but am always so busy, and library books have due dates...damn, i just need to freakin read the book lissy gave me for xmas already!)
photo albums
library school text books and professional library books
yoga books
fiction/writer's guides
coffee table books
writer's reference: writer's market type books, name book
general reference: dictionary, thesaurus, stylebooks, spanish-english dictionary
next to the futon are a stack of europe books i have been flipping through; behind the tv are books i am attempting to sell on amazon (seller name cheriecat should you want to buy an library texts or other random books); in the closet are literary journals i am going to bring to CO for venessa in april.
i love words. i love books, i couldn't live without them. this summer, it will be hard. if i bring my pocket pc, i'll read 'war and peace' and other long books via project gutenberg http://promo.net/pg/
until then, i am surrounded by books. i seek solace in libraries. when people ask how did i know i would be a librarian, i know it is because i have always returned to libraries for comfort, for books to help me through my crisises, for books to learn and books to explore myself.
READ!
mind the gap
we're gonna sweat
burn some calories
get wet
drop our salaries
if you want the world's best diet
try to eat when you can't buy it
join a sweatshop, it's a snap
support your sweatshop
shop at GAP!
burn some calories
get wet
drop our salaries
if you want the world's best diet
try to eat when you can't buy it
join a sweatshop, it's a snap
support your sweatshop
shop at GAP!
activists do not recycle
i'm a huge recycler. i'm the only one in my bldg who puts all her scraps of paper into a clear plastic bag, to be recycled by the city. i recycle everything i can.
but have you ever noticed that you go to protests, etc, and sometimes you get flyers printed on non-recyclable brightly colored paper. um, you care abt the earth and our world, yet why are you printing it on nonrecyclable paper? does anyone have any ideas on things you can do with non-recyclable paper?
but have you ever noticed that you go to protests, etc, and sometimes you get flyers printed on non-recyclable brightly colored paper. um, you care abt the earth and our world, yet why are you printing it on nonrecyclable paper? does anyone have any ideas on things you can do with non-recyclable paper?
17 February 2005
my disco...
I went to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, and had a great time. The displays were museum-quality, with many interactive elements. The best (and biggest) display was the disco one. It was in a separate room, with high ceilings and glass walls on two sides. It was fantastic—clothing that the disco divas wore (including the Saturday Night Fever white suit), tvs playing different things, disco music, a disco ball (surprise!), photos, newspapers, gay disco music (I always knew the Village People were gay!), and listening stations. Yay for Blondie! I began watching one of the videos, captivated by it for many minutes. People my age, and younger, and older, dancing, doing drugs, having the best time of their lives.
“Wow, how cool…I wish I lived in the seventies.” (Of course, women have come a long way, even in those thirty years.) Thinking of political activism, promiscuous sex, crazy dance parties…wow, what a time. Of course the fashion was AWFUL. My parents lived during the seventies, could have been at disco clubs, but they were nerds. (They also had to work for everything, pay for school themselves, etc—so I am very proud of them for that.) The only thing my dad embodied of the disco era was the bad clothes—he was very good in that category. Did I ever mention that to my mom’s prom he wore black pants with brown shoes? My mother hasn’t forgiven him for that one yet.
Then I remembered my raver days, my club days. Dancing till after dawn, parties in the middle of the woods in upstate New York, clubs where drag queens went into bathroom stalls two at a time, clubs where because I didn’t do drugs—well, I was the oddity. He-llo, I don’t need them, I’d say. And I didn’t. Swirling on the stage at Tunnel, dancing on the speakers at god knows how many parties, meeting people—oh the people—girls from Long Island, from Germany, boys in the army, high school dropouts, I met so many people. Impromptu parties where we lived or didn’t, making a mess, laughing and not caring; running around the city like we owned it. And we did—in our minds.
Now I’m 26, working full-time at a blah corporate job—just till late May, understand—and struggling to keep up with my school work, and plan a trip, and every so often, WRITE, run, play with kitty, speak with friends, radical cheerlead…and I miss that old me. I miss the girl who would jump up on the stage at a club, dance like an idiot, in some pretty shocking (slutty?) outfits. I miss dancing all night long, stinking like everything in the world as we’d leave the clubs, eating at diners afterwards, talking philosophically about the world…and to sleep through the day. I miss the fun. I miss it badly.
I don’t want those days back—I was looking for love then (even though I didn’t realize it) and I am madly in love…but I don’t want my time to be over. I want some more fun. Some more me. Some less ‘daily bullshit of life.’
Growing up can really suck.
See you in Ibiza.
“Wow, how cool…I wish I lived in the seventies.” (Of course, women have come a long way, even in those thirty years.) Thinking of political activism, promiscuous sex, crazy dance parties…wow, what a time. Of course the fashion was AWFUL. My parents lived during the seventies, could have been at disco clubs, but they were nerds. (They also had to work for everything, pay for school themselves, etc—so I am very proud of them for that.) The only thing my dad embodied of the disco era was the bad clothes—he was very good in that category. Did I ever mention that to my mom’s prom he wore black pants with brown shoes? My mother hasn’t forgiven him for that one yet.
Then I remembered my raver days, my club days. Dancing till after dawn, parties in the middle of the woods in upstate New York, clubs where drag queens went into bathroom stalls two at a time, clubs where because I didn’t do drugs—well, I was the oddity. He-llo, I don’t need them, I’d say. And I didn’t. Swirling on the stage at Tunnel, dancing on the speakers at god knows how many parties, meeting people—oh the people—girls from Long Island, from Germany, boys in the army, high school dropouts, I met so many people. Impromptu parties where we lived or didn’t, making a mess, laughing and not caring; running around the city like we owned it. And we did—in our minds.
Now I’m 26, working full-time at a blah corporate job—just till late May, understand—and struggling to keep up with my school work, and plan a trip, and every so often, WRITE, run, play with kitty, speak with friends, radical cheerlead…and I miss that old me. I miss the girl who would jump up on the stage at a club, dance like an idiot, in some pretty shocking (slutty?) outfits. I miss dancing all night long, stinking like everything in the world as we’d leave the clubs, eating at diners afterwards, talking philosophically about the world…and to sleep through the day. I miss the fun. I miss it badly.
I don’t want those days back—I was looking for love then (even though I didn’t realize it) and I am madly in love…but I don’t want my time to be over. I want some more fun. Some more me. Some less ‘daily bullshit of life.’
Growing up can really suck.
See you in Ibiza.
15 February 2005
311 is great in theory
here in new york city we have this great-sounding thing called 311. wondering if alternate-side parking is in effect? want to complain about a landlord being chintzy with the rent? want to complain about trucks idling their engines? call 311...and you probably won't get the problem solved. you'll learn about alternate-side parking. but there are five streetlights on my block, and FOUR of them are out...scary at night. trev won't even park there. i have been calling 311 since SEPTEMBER and still the lights are out (at that point, only two of the lights were out). i have complained abt the buses on my block idling their engines...never solved. a pain in the butt....
it's none of your business
let me start this off by saying i am in love. i am so in love i cannot possibly see my life without the person i love--yet i do not center my world around this person, but rather, see how they highlight each beautiful moment. like cooking dinner can turn into a beautiful experience, whether there is lovemaking or not on the kitchen table. you slice the onions (i hate onions) and i wash the dishes (who likes washing dishes?).
but i do not want to hear other people nagging me. i am starting to have married friends or friends who are getting married (go rachelle with your beachhouse wedding!) and they are usually (but not always fine). it's the questions i can't stand.
"when are you getting married?"
as if that's any of your business.
and if things are going bad in your relationship, or you had a fight:
"maybe you should see other people. you don't want to lock yrself with one person."
and what if i do?
and if you aren't dating anyone at all, or if you just broke up with someone, everyone starts nagging you about how you need to start dating. um, i think i know my life best!
the worst is the whole children question. i do not want or like children. most children make me want to slap them. (except my coworker does have 2 adorable daughters.) t and i decided no children ever b/c i told him i wouldn't want a boy, and if i found out it was a boy, i'd have an abortion. i mean, maybe i wouldn't, but i don't want kids anyway! so then once you get married, it's:
"when are you going to start having kids???"
actually, now that you mention it, we were waiting for your blessing.
and then, after you have one,
"when are you going to have another?'
and another, and another, and "when are you planning on stopping?"
my main thought is, if you don't know me really freakin well, well, don't ask. no, my aunt doesn't know me well enough. my best friends and sister can ask me these questions. it can be awkward for both of us. if you're really curious, be creative and you'll find out the answer.
but i do not want to hear other people nagging me. i am starting to have married friends or friends who are getting married (go rachelle with your beachhouse wedding!) and they are usually (but not always fine). it's the questions i can't stand.
"when are you getting married?"
as if that's any of your business.
and if things are going bad in your relationship, or you had a fight:
"maybe you should see other people. you don't want to lock yrself with one person."
and what if i do?
and if you aren't dating anyone at all, or if you just broke up with someone, everyone starts nagging you about how you need to start dating. um, i think i know my life best!
the worst is the whole children question. i do not want or like children. most children make me want to slap them. (except my coworker does have 2 adorable daughters.) t and i decided no children ever b/c i told him i wouldn't want a boy, and if i found out it was a boy, i'd have an abortion. i mean, maybe i wouldn't, but i don't want kids anyway! so then once you get married, it's:
"when are you going to start having kids???"
actually, now that you mention it, we were waiting for your blessing.
and then, after you have one,
"when are you going to have another?'
and another, and another, and "when are you planning on stopping?"
my main thought is, if you don't know me really freakin well, well, don't ask. no, my aunt doesn't know me well enough. my best friends and sister can ask me these questions. it can be awkward for both of us. if you're really curious, be creative and you'll find out the answer.
14 February 2005
my beautiful home
my lease is up in may, and i have not decided what i plan on doing. traveling makes it seem easier to give up my apt, but i don't think i'll be able to afford living alone. t is uncertain of his plans, and if he is to move bk to ny (which i *hope* he does come late autumn/winter, as i miss him like crazy and affording an apt is extremely difficult for a librarian!). but that is something that will work itself out later on.
i love my apt. i love the shelves, the character of the greenpoint apartment, the pretty paint on the walls, the curtains, feeling at home. i love going to jason and mark's to procrastinate homework or asking them to help me with something in my apartment or offering them some muffins that i just baked. i love shopping at the garden, buying organic produce around my neighbors, and all the people that work there, saying hello to me, knowing who i am. i love the guys in the pizzeria shouting, "hello miss!" as i walk past. i love the feeling of comfort, of being in a warm and welcoming community. i love neighbors saying hello and the librarians asking me how i am when they see me on the bus and knowing that i am in a wonderful community.
what i don't love is the annoyance of the G train, the not-so-great places to run in, the trucks and buses idling in my street--can we say summertime is one big asthma attack? if you want to sublet my apt this summer and watch my kitty, i'm down with that. 975$ a month in nyc--hell yeah!
but i'm not at all good with decisions. i'll just think abt this one for the next few months. i don't think i can afford anything even remotely as nice without t.
but of course, the niceness comes from within, along with creativity and love.
i love my apt. i love the shelves, the character of the greenpoint apartment, the pretty paint on the walls, the curtains, feeling at home. i love going to jason and mark's to procrastinate homework or asking them to help me with something in my apartment or offering them some muffins that i just baked. i love shopping at the garden, buying organic produce around my neighbors, and all the people that work there, saying hello to me, knowing who i am. i love the guys in the pizzeria shouting, "hello miss!" as i walk past. i love the feeling of comfort, of being in a warm and welcoming community. i love neighbors saying hello and the librarians asking me how i am when they see me on the bus and knowing that i am in a wonderful community.
what i don't love is the annoyance of the G train, the not-so-great places to run in, the trucks and buses idling in my street--can we say summertime is one big asthma attack? if you want to sublet my apt this summer and watch my kitty, i'm down with that. 975$ a month in nyc--hell yeah!
but i'm not at all good with decisions. i'll just think abt this one for the next few months. i don't think i can afford anything even remotely as nice without t.
but of course, the niceness comes from within, along with creativity and love.
12 February 2005
la la la la saturday
went out last night for a rad ref mtg, wandered around with l, drank too much with t. i keep pretending it's spring--purple tights and a summer skirt are not keeping me warm. remind me to change into some cords. tomorrow i have a 15k to run; after, t and i are going to explore the gates in central park.
but why am i blabbing? my cat is checking me out, seeing if i am secretly made of cat food. school is overwhelming. i am having a hard time finding meaning in my ordinary 9to5--so i drift. and drift. and explore and open up.
welcome to the winter of the winter, the summer of my heart.
but why am i blabbing? my cat is checking me out, seeing if i am secretly made of cat food. school is overwhelming. i am having a hard time finding meaning in my ordinary 9to5--so i drift. and drift. and explore and open up.
welcome to the winter of the winter, the summer of my heart.
10 February 2005
the kindness of strangers in new york city
i have been reading all these travel books, and they talk about how europeans are friendly like no americans. and i've been excited, thinking of conversations with a greek woman in a market, and an italian man on a crowded sweltering street, and sharing intimate secrets across the table at a french cafe with someone i met barely 5 minutes ago. but recently i have had some terrific conversations with strangers in new york city.
when i was taking the 345 am bus to dc on sun, the man next to me asked to take his picture in front of the marquee. i obliged, and as his english wasn't the greatest, he asked me what was going on (regarding baggage, etc, there was a lot of confusion). on the bus he sat next to me. he was visiting from sri lanka, and told me that he found americans so friendly. i couldn't believe it. we ended up talking during the ride, when i wasn't sleeping. when we got off the bus, he gave me his card and we wished each other luck. we had talked about the tsunami, about languages, about traveling, about ourselves, about his children.
last night i was taking the train back from my parents' house. leaving the lirr, i got into the elevator with an awesome woman--she had long dreads of green and other colors, and we talked in the elevator, and the entire train ride. she's an amazing woman, we had an intimate conversation and barely knew each other. she's a musician, and goes by bitch, so watch out for her. after i leave, i felt elated, having learned about communes in italy and interesting facts about her life.
i met this people so briefly, but am so grateful for their brief presence. now go talk to a stranger, and maybe you'll be surprised, especially if you are a new yorker.
when i was taking the 345 am bus to dc on sun, the man next to me asked to take his picture in front of the marquee. i obliged, and as his english wasn't the greatest, he asked me what was going on (regarding baggage, etc, there was a lot of confusion). on the bus he sat next to me. he was visiting from sri lanka, and told me that he found americans so friendly. i couldn't believe it. we ended up talking during the ride, when i wasn't sleeping. when we got off the bus, he gave me his card and we wished each other luck. we had talked about the tsunami, about languages, about traveling, about ourselves, about his children.
last night i was taking the train back from my parents' house. leaving the lirr, i got into the elevator with an awesome woman--she had long dreads of green and other colors, and we talked in the elevator, and the entire train ride. she's an amazing woman, we had an intimate conversation and barely knew each other. she's a musician, and goes by bitch, so watch out for her. after i leave, i felt elated, having learned about communes in italy and interesting facts about her life.
i met this people so briefly, but am so grateful for their brief presence. now go talk to a stranger, and maybe you'll be surprised, especially if you are a new yorker.
05 February 2005
i love tomie depaola
so today i was supposed to run a race. i get out of the subway at 103rd st, and see t called me. we're chatting as i'm walking to central park. i notice there's no other runners. (usually, when i exit the subway station, i meet and walk with runners.) i don't pay this mind, continue listening to t bitch abt his job's craziness. and then i pull out my little race thing--and see it's tomorrow, when i'll be in dc. wtf?! so i registered for and paid for a race that is taking place tomorrow. DUH! i catch the 6 back downtown and head for LI to see my parents.
we go to my mom's school, where we pore over children's books for my class in literature in children & adolescence. i am revisiting my childhood. i LOVE peter spier. i LOVE toad and frog. i LOVE millions of cats. i LOVE these books. and of course, tomie depaola--i LOVE him.
now you probably remember him of strega nona--which i love, and of course, dopey big anthony. but if you haven't ever read oliver button is a sissy, well, you need to read it.
oliver button is a cute little boy who likes to draw, paint, dance, act--and his father always wants him to play ball (which he's bad at). bullies at school taunt him, writing "oliver button is a sissy" on the wall at their school. he performs in the school talent show, a tap dance, and gets the recognition he deserves. SO happy!
for boys, it's so negative if they are artists or not very masculine. i never have dated very masculine boys--the boys i dated always were presumed to be gay (by my mother) or were the closest thing to gay i could get. (i prefer gay men to straight men any day of the week. and girls are great too, but in my life, i have few straight male friends. what's always good is the ones who are mysterious abt their sexuality, and you are constantly wondering--not like it's any of your business, just to see if yr gaydar is working properly.) i like the sensitive type, like oliver button.
anyway, so i would date oliver button if he wasn't, like, 7 years old or something. but he's great. you should read him if you haven't. go to yr local library (yay!) or even a bookstore and read it--it won't take you five minutes, but is totally worth reading. so cute.
we go to my mom's school, where we pore over children's books for my class in literature in children & adolescence. i am revisiting my childhood. i LOVE peter spier. i LOVE toad and frog. i LOVE millions of cats. i LOVE these books. and of course, tomie depaola--i LOVE him.
now you probably remember him of strega nona--which i love, and of course, dopey big anthony. but if you haven't ever read oliver button is a sissy, well, you need to read it.
oliver button is a cute little boy who likes to draw, paint, dance, act--and his father always wants him to play ball (which he's bad at). bullies at school taunt him, writing "oliver button is a sissy" on the wall at their school. he performs in the school talent show, a tap dance, and gets the recognition he deserves. SO happy!
for boys, it's so negative if they are artists or not very masculine. i never have dated very masculine boys--the boys i dated always were presumed to be gay (by my mother) or were the closest thing to gay i could get. (i prefer gay men to straight men any day of the week. and girls are great too, but in my life, i have few straight male friends. what's always good is the ones who are mysterious abt their sexuality, and you are constantly wondering--not like it's any of your business, just to see if yr gaydar is working properly.) i like the sensitive type, like oliver button.
anyway, so i would date oliver button if he wasn't, like, 7 years old or something. but he's great. you should read him if you haven't. go to yr local library (yay!) or even a bookstore and read it--it won't take you five minutes, but is totally worth reading. so cute.
02 February 2005
bad dreams
i've been having some pretty bad and freaky dreams lately. two nights ago, i dreamt i was on leonard st in greenpoint (i remember that clearly for some reason; well i know it was greenpoint and it felt like it was leonard st, now that i think of it) and this small helicopter/plane thingy kept crashing into this one house, and we were gathered on the street, watching it, suffering. it reminded me of the way a fly will be stuck in your apartment and keep diving forward into different parts of the window. but this aircraft was only going up. so scary. i hated looking up all yesterday.
today i had a dream that i got sick of luna (i must admit, she's been freakin annoying lately!) and went to union square (which was close to my apt, wherever it was in my dream) and left her there b/c i figured, she's cute, someone will want her. i missed her (after a week, a few days??? ) and then i found her and brought her home. when i woke up, luna was here. i love my cat and i wouldn't leave her in the street. sure, she's obsessed with eating, maybe a tad chubby, but she's cute, she's my luna, and i'm not getting rid of her.
today i had a dream that i got sick of luna (i must admit, she's been freakin annoying lately!) and went to union square (which was close to my apt, wherever it was in my dream) and left her there b/c i figured, she's cute, someone will want her. i missed her (after a week, a few days??? ) and then i found her and brought her home. when i woke up, luna was here. i love my cat and i wouldn't leave her in the street. sure, she's obsessed with eating, maybe a tad chubby, but she's cute, she's my luna, and i'm not getting rid of her.
29 January 2005
too much sadness
a girl was killed by her father in her school http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/29/nyregion/29girl.html?oref=login
there is too much sadness in the world, too much violence. it is overwhelming.
i had two terrible dreams: one was about a tsunami that hit and i was in a dentist's office, so i was okay; the other was abt trev, horrible, and when i woke up i reached for him but he wasn't there
sometimes i feel like i need to take some more distance from sadness.
time to leave the comforts of my home, go back out into the snowy depressing brooklyn cold, to do errands, and try to feel calm.
there is too much sadness in the world, too much violence. it is overwhelming.
i had two terrible dreams: one was about a tsunami that hit and i was in a dentist's office, so i was okay; the other was abt trev, horrible, and when i woke up i reached for him but he wasn't there
sometimes i feel like i need to take some more distance from sadness.
time to leave the comforts of my home, go back out into the snowy depressing brooklyn cold, to do errands, and try to feel calm.
28 January 2005
sadness
a just am having a period attack and had to run out to get some chocolate (it's not good chocolate, i'm afraid; 3muskateers) and i'm sad.
this woman who goes to my yoga studio was murdered: http://nytimes.com/2005/01/28/nyregion/28murder.html
she lives a block over from me. i am going to send some good energy to her tonight. you should too. no one should have to die at the hands of someone else like that.
even luna looks sad.
this woman who goes to my yoga studio was murdered: http://nytimes.com/2005/01/28/nyregion/28murder.html
she lives a block over from me. i am going to send some good energy to her tonight. you should too. no one should have to die at the hands of someone else like that.
even luna looks sad.
my dream last night
i had a bizarre dream last night. i was marrying this beautiful girl, yet i barely knew her. it was our wedding day, and i was questioning if it was okay (yep, I'm horrid with decisions). i remember her clearly: brown hair, curled and styled professionally, a beautiful lavender dress
with a huge skirt (poufy, like in the old times), and i was just wearing a long white dress (maybe it was even my slip) and i went to see her and she was telling me she loved me. i was barely ready, and it was this crazy twisted beautiful wonderful dream.
DREAM INTERPRETATION: our country needs to legalize same sex
marriage.
with a huge skirt (poufy, like in the old times), and i was just wearing a long white dress (maybe it was even my slip) and i went to see her and she was telling me she loved me. i was barely ready, and it was this crazy twisted beautiful wonderful dream.
DREAM INTERPRETATION: our country needs to legalize same sex
marriage.
My body, my choice
No woman can call herself free who does not own and control her own
body. No woman can call herself free until she can choose
consciously whether she will or will not be a mother.
--Margaret Sanger
body. No woman can call herself free until she can choose
consciously whether she will or will not be a mother.
--Margaret Sanger
27 January 2005
inara george
i am so obsessed with inara george's new album. she has the most
beautiful voice, she takes me away.
beautiful voice, she takes me away.
PRO-CHOICE--we will not back down!
i'm reading "the war on choice" by gloria feldt, president of
planned parenthood. this book is written very well, with statistics,
details, and quotes. the pov of the right is crazy...apparently
g.h.bush was prochoice and pro-birth control and when he was asked
to join reagan as his running mate, he had to give up his anti-
choice politics, and he never went back. and barb (senior) and laura
are both pro-choice (although laura supposedly won't talk abt it
anymore), as are condi and powell--then why is dubya so powerful?
so do what you can.
here are some easy things you can do to help keep choice safe.
1. join pro-choice email newsletters so you can keep tabs on how
politicans are trying to control our bodies. www.naral.org
www.plannedparenthood.org www.feminist.org among other sites offer
easy
2. read "the war on choice" by gloria feldt.
3. speak up. show that how you feel, and don't let anti-choicers put you down!
4. volunteer and/or give $$$ to pro-choice organizations.
5. become a judge and attempt to get on the supreme court.
6. become a lawyer and defend women's reproductive freedoms.
7. attend rallies, protests, fundraisers, etc in the name of choice!
planned parenthood. this book is written very well, with statistics,
details, and quotes. the pov of the right is crazy...apparently
g.h.bush was prochoice and pro-birth control and when he was asked
to join reagan as his running mate, he had to give up his anti-
choice politics, and he never went back. and barb (senior) and laura
are both pro-choice (although laura supposedly won't talk abt it
anymore), as are condi and powell--then why is dubya so powerful?
so do what you can.
here are some easy things you can do to help keep choice safe.
1. join pro-choice email newsletters so you can keep tabs on how
politicans are trying to control our bodies. www.naral.org
www.plannedparenthood.org www.feminist.org among other sites offer
easy
2. read "the war on choice" by gloria feldt.
3. speak up. show that how you feel, and don't let anti-choicers put you down!
4. volunteer and/or give $$$ to pro-choice organizations.
5. become a judge and attempt to get on the supreme court.
6. become a lawyer and defend women's reproductive freedoms.
7. attend rallies, protests, fundraisers, etc in the name of choice!
reason #458 why i probably won't work in a corporate library again
eye burn. my eyes were stinging when i went to bed last night. i put on these "cucumber slices" that trev got me a while ago--i think they're made by ponds, and they're for your eyes. it cooled them down.
because i am constantly staring at the computer while researching (and emailing my friends!), it hurts my eyes. i am worried abt fucking up my eyesight. most corporate libraries use the computer for the majority, if not ALL, of their research. at public and academic libraries, you use the computer, but you are also creating displays, talking with patrons, showing patrons how to do research, talking on the phone with vendors, etc.
because i am constantly staring at the computer while researching (and emailing my friends!), it hurts my eyes. i am worried abt fucking up my eyesight. most corporate libraries use the computer for the majority, if not ALL, of their research. at public and academic libraries, you use the computer, but you are also creating displays, talking with patrons, showing patrons how to do research, talking on the phone with vendors, etc.
26 January 2005
i want my choice, and that is no children
if you don'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!
i've mentioned this earlier--i never want to have kids. i see them on the train, and i get disgusted and annoyed. very few children i believe to be cute (my coworker's being one of them) and i can't make myself like them.
t also doesn't want kids. a while ago, t said to me, "you know, if you said you had to have children, i couldn't be with you." we decided if we child-hungry, we'll wait a year before rushing into lots of unprotected sex.
right now i'm being responsible. i would have an abortion if i got pregnant tonight--absolutely no second thoughts. but what if i didn't have that right? i am lucky enough to have parents who would lend me money to get an abortion--i believe my mother did--if i had to fly to sweden or wherever. ooh sweden, vacation.
back to my choice. if (I HOPE THIS NEVER HAPPENS) my choice is taken away, i will leave this country. i don't want to live in a country where i don't have control over my body. fuck that. i refuse to stay here. i'm a responsible person, i'm not religious, i don't want babies. i don't care if i have to live in australia, i will not live here till women are free.
why oh why
should the men make the choice
what i do with my body,
what i say with my voice?
who oh who
does bush think that he is
putting laws on my body
with those buddies of his?
bushie, bushie, darling dear,
here's something for YOU to hear!
we choose when to procreate,
'cause church and state don't ovulate!
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!
i've mentioned this earlier--i never want to have kids. i see them on the train, and i get disgusted and annoyed. very few children i believe to be cute (my coworker's being one of them) and i can't make myself like them.
t also doesn't want kids. a while ago, t said to me, "you know, if you said you had to have children, i couldn't be with you." we decided if we child-hungry, we'll wait a year before rushing into lots of unprotected sex.
right now i'm being responsible. i would have an abortion if i got pregnant tonight--absolutely no second thoughts. but what if i didn't have that right? i am lucky enough to have parents who would lend me money to get an abortion--i believe my mother did--if i had to fly to sweden or wherever. ooh sweden, vacation.
back to my choice. if (I HOPE THIS NEVER HAPPENS) my choice is taken away, i will leave this country. i don't want to live in a country where i don't have control over my body. fuck that. i refuse to stay here. i'm a responsible person, i'm not religious, i don't want babies. i don't care if i have to live in australia, i will not live here till women are free.
why oh why
should the men make the choice
what i do with my body,
what i say with my voice?
who oh who
does bush think that he is
putting laws on my body
with those buddies of his?
bushie, bushie, darling dear,
here's something for YOU to hear!
we choose when to procreate,
'cause church and state don't ovulate!
3people who have changed my life, who probably wont be reading this
you know there are people who are no longer in your life, haven't been around for a few years, or maybe never were even truly present in your life, but now that you think about it, you wouldn't be you without them? there's probably a lot of people, but i wanted to write abt these three.
DOUGLAS COUPLAND
i discovered generation x in high school, and read and reread all of his titles. i own copies of every title of his, several titles in multiple copies. i buy his books in hardcover, the day they come out.
i saw him read last night. his reading prescence--nothing like anne waldman's, but he was funny, personable, interesting. he read from his new book that he is currently working on, titled j-pod (a sequel to microserfs!!!). he spoke about being loney, he had the startings of a beard, and i love him, even if he never responded to my request for an interview in my zine in high school.
if you don't know about him, check him out at http://www.coupland.com/
SHELIA BURGEL
Shelia was creator of the popular zine, Plume. i received it in the mail, and discovered the world of bikini kill, saint etienne, bratmobile, riot grrrl, heavenly, and so many wonderful bands that i still enjoy today. whenever getting zines from shelia, i wrote her letters about the high school pain--and she wrote me kind ones back. her zine helped me find my place in the world--and discovered so many amazing kinds of music.
if you don't know about her, check out shelia's new project at http://www.chachacharming.com/
JENNY
Jenny and I were friends for years. Exchanging boyfriends and lipstick and underwear, in college we ran together, dyed our hair together, found adventures in clubs and streets and dorm room showers and cabs. It always seems like we were so real together. She taught me I was beautiful, helped me foster my self-esteem that was damaged when I was younger, opened me up to new worlds, constantly running into adventure and fear. She tried to steal my cat, so we aren't friends, and besides, I don't know how to get in contact with her.
I miss her.
DOUGLAS COUPLAND
i discovered generation x in high school, and read and reread all of his titles. i own copies of every title of his, several titles in multiple copies. i buy his books in hardcover, the day they come out.
i saw him read last night. his reading prescence--nothing like anne waldman's, but he was funny, personable, interesting. he read from his new book that he is currently working on, titled j-pod (a sequel to microserfs!!!). he spoke about being loney, he had the startings of a beard, and i love him, even if he never responded to my request for an interview in my zine in high school.
if you don't know about him, check him out at http://www.coupland.com/
SHELIA BURGEL
Shelia was creator of the popular zine, Plume. i received it in the mail, and discovered the world of bikini kill, saint etienne, bratmobile, riot grrrl, heavenly, and so many wonderful bands that i still enjoy today. whenever getting zines from shelia, i wrote her letters about the high school pain--and she wrote me kind ones back. her zine helped me find my place in the world--and discovered so many amazing kinds of music.
if you don't know about her, check out shelia's new project at http://www.chachacharming.com/
JENNY
Jenny and I were friends for years. Exchanging boyfriends and lipstick and underwear, in college we ran together, dyed our hair together, found adventures in clubs and streets and dorm room showers and cabs. It always seems like we were so real together. She taught me I was beautiful, helped me foster my self-esteem that was damaged when I was younger, opened me up to new worlds, constantly running into adventure and fear. She tried to steal my cat, so we aren't friends, and besides, I don't know how to get in contact with her.
I miss her.
25 January 2005
what i fear most
i went to hear douglas coupland read and speak tonight, and he spoke of loneliness. i began to think of my life on the train ride home and began panicking: where will i, the being inside me, what is putting these notes on this webpage and calling my kitty "fatty boom batty" and how i look into the mirror with my eyes, my soul, when i'm really paying attention, not just to see if i need to pluck my eyebrows. where do i go? what happens? i'm SO afraid of this topic, of the very idea of it...so afraid. like, i am 25 years old, have never left north america, have a love who chose a job over me, a cat concerned abt being fed, i lost my best friend, my family is psychotic (as are all), i have clothes, running sneakers up the wazoo, books, books, stories, poems, unfinished stories, journaling, and what else? what else?
i am not into organized religion but if i had to pick a religion it would definitely be buddhist. i am not into stringent rules. i went to naropa and gained some good out of buddhism, though there was a cult-like snobbery: "oh you would NEVER understand, you're not buddhist." i want to visit plum village and see thich nhat hanh when i am there. i want to hear and travel and be and share and love.
i am not into organized religion but if i had to pick a religion it would definitely be buddhist. i am not into stringent rules. i went to naropa and gained some good out of buddhism, though there was a cult-like snobbery: "oh you would NEVER understand, you're not buddhist." i want to visit plum village and see thich nhat hanh when i am there. i want to hear and travel and be and share and love.
how i ran today
it was 18 this morning--ahhhh, florida-like. i pulled on lots of clothes (i was actually hot!) and my new yak trax.
i can't explain it well enough, but check here: http://www.yaktrax.com/main.php3?primNavIndex=2&
it allowed me to run fast and easily--the snow piled up at corners was hard, but i could run on snow or ice without a problem!
yay!
i can't explain it well enough, but check here: http://www.yaktrax.com/main.php3?primNavIndex=2&
it allowed me to run fast and easily--the snow piled up at corners was hard, but i could run on snow or ice without a problem!
yay!
24 January 2005
commuting sucks
i think the lowest point of my commute (besides the delays, the crowds, the random stopping for 10 minutes without even telling us what is going on, besides the singal problems, besides taking two trains where i should be taking one, besides the waits) was when i noticed the man across from me.
i don't know what clothes he wore, but he had on one of those full-faced ski masks--a nice one--where you can't see any skin, and there's only a hole for the eyes. but i couldn't see his eyes, he was wearing dark sunglasses. he really freaked me out when he began tugging down the ski mask to hide his neck, and constantly cracking his knuckles.
i moved down into another seat, and sat next to a pratt student charcoaling.
i don't know what clothes he wore, but he had on one of those full-faced ski masks--a nice one--where you can't see any skin, and there's only a hole for the eyes. but i couldn't see his eyes, he was wearing dark sunglasses. he really freaked me out when he began tugging down the ski mask to hide his neck, and constantly cracking his knuckles.
i moved down into another seat, and sat next to a pratt student charcoaling.
23 January 2005
22 January 2005
blizzard: a ramble
t was supposed to spend the weekend here, but he had to work monday and was worried about not being able to get back. OF COURSE we have a blizzard on the weekend so i'm homebound. i actually rented a dvd and got tons of food so i can cook and clean my apt all weekend. and my neck still hurts and ibuprofin is NOT helping.
but seriously, have you ever noticed every time it snows a lot it's on a weekend? my job would probably be closed today, or we'd leave early. this is INSANE.
i have to finish cleaning my apartment, make some lunch, shower, make tonks a bday gift, finish v's package...i guess it's good there's a blizzard so i can do stuff around mi casa. although i really wanted to go to the museum of sex today.
luna is glaring at me. i think she wants some of the treats she got for xmas--the ones from rachelle or pat. she hates the ones i got her. she's smart--they're low fat.
but seriously, have you ever noticed every time it snows a lot it's on a weekend? my job would probably be closed today, or we'd leave early. this is INSANE.
i have to finish cleaning my apartment, make some lunch, shower, make tonks a bday gift, finish v's package...i guess it's good there's a blizzard so i can do stuff around mi casa. although i really wanted to go to the museum of sex today.
luna is glaring at me. i think she wants some of the treats she got for xmas--the ones from rachelle or pat. she hates the ones i got her. she's smart--they're low fat.
21 January 2005
Twenty two hours of dissent
730pm: after working all day, rushing home to shower and eat and change, i am on the chinatown bus to dc. emily and i squish into the bus, "lucky" to get seats. the seats are smaller than a greyhound's, with narrower seats, less leg room and way more smells. our bus makes random stops in the middle of nowhere, and i feel as if i will never get there. its only benefit is its cheapness.
other activists are on the bus. sitting in front of us are two from queer fist, and one australian guy. the queer fist people give us their flyer. this is my fave line "we refuse to congratulate corporations that engage in abusive labor policies simply because they have a non discriminatory policy towards LGBT workers." i hate disney for their sweatshop labor practices, even though they give benefits to same sex partners. one right cannot erase all of the wrongs.
1am: finally get in dc, an hour late. take the metro 3 stops to jinxy's. sleep on the floor. with emily. people are talking, about politics and clothes, and writing cheers. i fall asleep around 2ish. there are probably around 15 people sleeping in jinxy's one bedroom apartment.
830am: i wake up after jinxy begins playing michael jackson. my neck hurts from sleeping in this awkward position. i can't even brush my hair. we eat breakfast and head to dupont circle, two blocks away. just before we go to dupont circle, after i tell a cheerleader i'm part of radical reference, she wants to know how much public $$$ the inauguration cost. i call lia, who is doing home support, who finds some information. i give her a flyer, and tell her to contact us for a more in-depth answer.
10am: a ton of people in dupont circle. the raging grannies are singing folky-type songs with political topics. running for change is running with their run against bush tshirts and running clothes. code pink is running all over the place. we cheer share and chill with squads from richmond, dc, harrisonburg, buffalo, fla.
we learn we can't go to the inauguration parade site: bags must be under a specific size, and emily's backpack will not fit that criteria.
noonish: the march begins. we are towards the back, cheering and meeting people. i hand out flyers for radical reference.
at some point, we leave the march and head for the anarchist bloc. my neck is hurting so much i can't look up. i see jenna from rad reference. we cheer and then the march leaves.
after a bit, we are not moving. what i am told is that police blockaded the road; sugar, who was arrested during the rnc after the cops blockaded people in, wanted to leave. after discussion, we walked around the block, and went into cvs. "i feel like something bad is going to happen," everyone kept saying. i think we should leave cvs, and when tonks and i start to leave, there are suddenly HUNDREDS of people running up the block. it's madness. i'm lucky to get into cvs, lest i be trampled or whatever. the manager wouldn't let activists in, but republicans were being let in. my friends were harassed to buy something.
i was about to buy ibuprofin when a medic cleaning her face off with a bandana gave me some. she said a fight broke out between the cops and the demonstrators. later, i heard the cops were randomly hitting and beating people with their sticks. the cops peppersprayed the crowd.
later, tonks finds out the friend she drove up with from fla has been arrested. he didn't do anything, but was at the front of the crowd, with those fighting the cops.
we end up having out on E st. people don't want to get involved in the march, they're too paranoid. we cheer for the activists, all our antibush and antirepublican cheers, and the republicans that are lining up to watch the parade. i've never seen so many fur coats in my life. disgusting. we cheer:
fur! don't buy it!
it's gross, don't deny it!
it's ugly! it stinks! i think your coat just blinked! ewww!
and
i love fur! i'm gonna wear my kitty!
what's that? does that sound shitty?
well there's a dead animal on your back,
and that's a gross environmental attack!
we get in fights with republicans. during "masturbate don't detonate" and "my bush is better" i am told "how classy" i am. i'm not trying to be classy when i'm grabbing myself. during "riot don't diet" (a song about loving yourself for what you look like and not dieting) someone tells us "stop whining, he's IN for another four years." cowboy hats and fur coats, my friends and i feel sick. i beg to leave, go elsewhere. a new cheer bloc forms and activists and cheerleaders march spontaneously. we march with them to chinatown. my friends want to leave the march, so we go to the queer fist gathering at dupont circle.
245pm: at dupont circle, there's a lot of activists hanging out and a queer fashion show is about to begin. there's chanting going on, especially when a republican passes.
315pm: we are famished, so we eat lunch. when we come out nothing is going on, so we go back to chinatown. we chant, feel disgusted at how many fur coats there are. i think about we never even joined the answer protests, all the other organized groups, how we are just a bunch of anarchists wreacking havoc. and does it really solve anything? no but we're getting out there, showing how we disapprove. i don't agree with violence--but then our president is causing violence. i think i understand both sides of the argument.
530pm: back on the bus, thinking of the day. my bag weighs the same--flyers given away, flyers received. the bus is bigger, and it takes longer to get back, even with the bus driver from hell who prohibits "eating, drinking, smoking, and going number two." most of the people on the bus demonstrated at the inauguration today against bus, and everyone seems to be talking on their phones, telling everyone they didn't get arrested. i think of the pepper spray, the arrests, the batons, and the people running up the hill--the chaos. so scary. yet i know even with all these risk, i'll be at the next protest.
other activists are on the bus. sitting in front of us are two from queer fist, and one australian guy. the queer fist people give us their flyer. this is my fave line "we refuse to congratulate corporations that engage in abusive labor policies simply because they have a non discriminatory policy towards LGBT workers." i hate disney for their sweatshop labor practices, even though they give benefits to same sex partners. one right cannot erase all of the wrongs.
1am: finally get in dc, an hour late. take the metro 3 stops to jinxy's. sleep on the floor. with emily. people are talking, about politics and clothes, and writing cheers. i fall asleep around 2ish. there are probably around 15 people sleeping in jinxy's one bedroom apartment.
830am: i wake up after jinxy begins playing michael jackson. my neck hurts from sleeping in this awkward position. i can't even brush my hair. we eat breakfast and head to dupont circle, two blocks away. just before we go to dupont circle, after i tell a cheerleader i'm part of radical reference, she wants to know how much public $$$ the inauguration cost. i call lia, who is doing home support, who finds some information. i give her a flyer, and tell her to contact us for a more in-depth answer.
10am: a ton of people in dupont circle. the raging grannies are singing folky-type songs with political topics. running for change is running with their run against bush tshirts and running clothes. code pink is running all over the place. we cheer share and chill with squads from richmond, dc, harrisonburg, buffalo, fla.
we learn we can't go to the inauguration parade site: bags must be under a specific size, and emily's backpack will not fit that criteria.
noonish: the march begins. we are towards the back, cheering and meeting people. i hand out flyers for radical reference.
at some point, we leave the march and head for the anarchist bloc. my neck is hurting so much i can't look up. i see jenna from rad reference. we cheer and then the march leaves.
after a bit, we are not moving. what i am told is that police blockaded the road; sugar, who was arrested during the rnc after the cops blockaded people in, wanted to leave. after discussion, we walked around the block, and went into cvs. "i feel like something bad is going to happen," everyone kept saying. i think we should leave cvs, and when tonks and i start to leave, there are suddenly HUNDREDS of people running up the block. it's madness. i'm lucky to get into cvs, lest i be trampled or whatever. the manager wouldn't let activists in, but republicans were being let in. my friends were harassed to buy something.
i was about to buy ibuprofin when a medic cleaning her face off with a bandana gave me some. she said a fight broke out between the cops and the demonstrators. later, i heard the cops were randomly hitting and beating people with their sticks. the cops peppersprayed the crowd.
later, tonks finds out the friend she drove up with from fla has been arrested. he didn't do anything, but was at the front of the crowd, with those fighting the cops.
we end up having out on E st. people don't want to get involved in the march, they're too paranoid. we cheer for the activists, all our antibush and antirepublican cheers, and the republicans that are lining up to watch the parade. i've never seen so many fur coats in my life. disgusting. we cheer:
fur! don't buy it!
it's gross, don't deny it!
it's ugly! it stinks! i think your coat just blinked! ewww!
and
i love fur! i'm gonna wear my kitty!
what's that? does that sound shitty?
well there's a dead animal on your back,
and that's a gross environmental attack!
we get in fights with republicans. during "masturbate don't detonate" and "my bush is better" i am told "how classy" i am. i'm not trying to be classy when i'm grabbing myself. during "riot don't diet" (a song about loving yourself for what you look like and not dieting) someone tells us "stop whining, he's IN for another four years." cowboy hats and fur coats, my friends and i feel sick. i beg to leave, go elsewhere. a new cheer bloc forms and activists and cheerleaders march spontaneously. we march with them to chinatown. my friends want to leave the march, so we go to the queer fist gathering at dupont circle.
245pm: at dupont circle, there's a lot of activists hanging out and a queer fashion show is about to begin. there's chanting going on, especially when a republican passes.
315pm: we are famished, so we eat lunch. when we come out nothing is going on, so we go back to chinatown. we chant, feel disgusted at how many fur coats there are. i think about we never even joined the answer protests, all the other organized groups, how we are just a bunch of anarchists wreacking havoc. and does it really solve anything? no but we're getting out there, showing how we disapprove. i don't agree with violence--but then our president is causing violence. i think i understand both sides of the argument.
530pm: back on the bus, thinking of the day. my bag weighs the same--flyers given away, flyers received. the bus is bigger, and it takes longer to get back, even with the bus driver from hell who prohibits "eating, drinking, smoking, and going number two." most of the people on the bus demonstrated at the inauguration today against bus, and everyone seems to be talking on their phones, telling everyone they didn't get arrested. i think of the pepper spray, the arrests, the batons, and the people running up the hill--the chaos. so scary. yet i know even with all these risk, i'll be at the next protest.
17 January 2005
i've been under a rock
flashback to high school:
a party is in progress, in my basement. kurt cobain has been discovered dead hours earlier. we were drinking koolaid (hey, i was straightedge) and talking. d.m.k. comes down the stairs:
"OMIGOD, everyone, have you heard--kurt cobain killed himself!!!!"
a girl who didn't like her: "no i live under a rock."
i want to hide lately. sad things happening everywhere. "are you excited abt the inauguration?" no, i'm really depressed. another four miserable years. hiding in my pastel apartment. telephone calls. is this okay? stomach messed up. adventure books. wishing for your arms, your voice. books about women being burned (burned alive, by souad)--how could this happen? my body my choice.
i like my rock.
ignoring the new york times, the political blogs, all that sort of stuff. these stories spouting from my friends' mouths, hiding in my piles of blankets. waiting for something. until then, hiding.
i love my rock.
a party is in progress, in my basement. kurt cobain has been discovered dead hours earlier. we were drinking koolaid (hey, i was straightedge) and talking. d.m.k. comes down the stairs:
"OMIGOD, everyone, have you heard--kurt cobain killed himself!!!!"
a girl who didn't like her: "no i live under a rock."
i want to hide lately. sad things happening everywhere. "are you excited abt the inauguration?" no, i'm really depressed. another four miserable years. hiding in my pastel apartment. telephone calls. is this okay? stomach messed up. adventure books. wishing for your arms, your voice. books about women being burned (burned alive, by souad)--how could this happen? my body my choice.
i like my rock.
ignoring the new york times, the political blogs, all that sort of stuff. these stories spouting from my friends' mouths, hiding in my piles of blankets. waiting for something. until then, hiding.
i love my rock.
10 January 2005
cat sitting
if anyone wants to cat sit my baby luna when i'm away this summer (june-august/possibly early sept), please let me know. you can't keep her!!! she is a beautiful sweet tabby cat who loves her cat dancer and likes to eat, sleep, and look cute. since i will be giving up my apt, she will stay with you. no strangers, please.
09 January 2005
racing
i ran a 5 mile race today. it was somewhat hard. the first mile had a pretty annoying hill going up it, but i picked up the pace. it was so cold my hands and feet were numb beforehand, and during the first mile.
before the race, two old men (in their sixties, maybe older) made conversation with me. i must attract that. although i was never the roommate dating old men...hahah jk!
after the race i drank the best hot cocoa (the road runners must add goo to their cocoa!) and walked home. drained. but feeling amazing. i love running. it is like nothing else.
before the race, two old men (in their sixties, maybe older) made conversation with me. i must attract that. although i was never the roommate dating old men...hahah jk!
after the race i drank the best hot cocoa (the road runners must add goo to their cocoa!) and walked home. drained. but feeling amazing. i love running. it is like nothing else.
08 January 2005
when you leave the house for the first time of the day and it's 5pm
j, l, and p ended up staying at my apt till 4 am--the girls talking, while p was snoring on my hardwood floor (tequilla). we were high on conversation and each other--that's all. went to bed almost immediately after they left, writing in my journal first...and woke up this am, confused. i dont sleep late normally--and it's wonderful to! spent the morning in bed, took a long bath, then read some more in bed, sent emails, looked through recipes (tomato and white bean stew, banana raisin muffins, and carrot zucchini bread yum!).
i finally left my house after 5 to get "provisions" or "supplies." i needed things to cook my creations with. on the street--wow. bright lights, cars with their intense colors and the smells--saw smoke leaving a man's mouth, the way it danced and trickle in the air around us. "wow." screaming children, loud cell phone conversations, yapping rotwaeilers dragging 10 year old owners across manhattan avenue. acid washed jeans with tight tight shirts, fedoras, trying to look so 80s--or hip. handme down pants and old sneakers and a huge down coat marked me as "whatever." i like staying home, i like sitting around in my underwear, cuddling, drinking vanilla creme tea. ahhh.
in the grocery store, lines all the way to the cereal aisle, the jostle for the freshes tomatoes--of which there are few. i search for string beans, zucchini, avocados, sun dried tomatoes. i examine some love over by the lemons, and find a perfect starfruit.
a hipster boy stares at me, intensely, hair flopping around and eyes going through me. i add eggs to my basket, essential for making the breads and muffins i plan on creating. scratch.
arms ache in the checkout line when i realize i've forgotten broccoli. tevs, i'll just use frozen. i can deal, right?
my frozen is full of a variety of veggie burgers named after places, types, ready to be inserted into a hot george foreman grill, grilled and placed on bread with cheese, pickles, ketchup.
home again. luna has moved from her place on the bed (which she barely left since 4am!). curled up in the corner on her mat, i want to curl up with her, stroke her beautiful fur, tell her how much i love her.
all i could get back is "meow" but i doubt even that will happen.
she's not the meowing type.
i finally left my house after 5 to get "provisions" or "supplies." i needed things to cook my creations with. on the street--wow. bright lights, cars with their intense colors and the smells--saw smoke leaving a man's mouth, the way it danced and trickle in the air around us. "wow." screaming children, loud cell phone conversations, yapping rotwaeilers dragging 10 year old owners across manhattan avenue. acid washed jeans with tight tight shirts, fedoras, trying to look so 80s--or hip. handme down pants and old sneakers and a huge down coat marked me as "whatever." i like staying home, i like sitting around in my underwear, cuddling, drinking vanilla creme tea. ahhh.
in the grocery store, lines all the way to the cereal aisle, the jostle for the freshes tomatoes--of which there are few. i search for string beans, zucchini, avocados, sun dried tomatoes. i examine some love over by the lemons, and find a perfect starfruit.
a hipster boy stares at me, intensely, hair flopping around and eyes going through me. i add eggs to my basket, essential for making the breads and muffins i plan on creating. scratch.
arms ache in the checkout line when i realize i've forgotten broccoli. tevs, i'll just use frozen. i can deal, right?
my frozen is full of a variety of veggie burgers named after places, types, ready to be inserted into a hot george foreman grill, grilled and placed on bread with cheese, pickles, ketchup.
home again. luna has moved from her place on the bed (which she barely left since 4am!). curled up in the corner on her mat, i want to curl up with her, stroke her beautiful fur, tell her how much i love her.
all i could get back is "meow" but i doubt even that will happen.
she's not the meowing type.
05 January 2005
i'd like to breathe, please
in yoga the other night, it occured to me how filthy the air in nyc is (esp my area of gpt). yoga helps me breathe better than anything else (well i suppose the four inhalers and one oral supplement help me) but nyc is really dirty! sometimes when i'm breathing i'm very conscious of how hard it is to get clean air.
t is always nagging me, "you should move out of your apartment" (b/c of the traffic which causes pollution which causes asthma attacks) and "how long are you gonna live in nyc?" well, i def don't want to be one of those little old ladies taking the bus with their walkers and wearing pink feathered hats and suffering the stresses and pushing people out of the way. i want to stay here when i'm young--write and be in creative circles and have all my friends and a good social life and all that good stuff. i mean, here i might go to three or four different events in one night--on weekend days i might be in way more places. but when i lived in CO, there was one party and everyone was there. so i like my social life. i like access to the world's finest art museums, to any kind of food i could possibly want, to clothes, to people, to accessories, to EVERYTHING in full spectrum.
i'd miss that.
but lately the pollution has been annoying me. after i come back from europe, i'll move down by prospect park, where i can run around less cars. yeah i know there's pollution in europe, but hopefully when i'm exploring the rural areas of europe, i'll be able to breathe.
t is always nagging me, "you should move out of your apartment" (b/c of the traffic which causes pollution which causes asthma attacks) and "how long are you gonna live in nyc?" well, i def don't want to be one of those little old ladies taking the bus with their walkers and wearing pink feathered hats and suffering the stresses and pushing people out of the way. i want to stay here when i'm young--write and be in creative circles and have all my friends and a good social life and all that good stuff. i mean, here i might go to three or four different events in one night--on weekend days i might be in way more places. but when i lived in CO, there was one party and everyone was there. so i like my social life. i like access to the world's finest art museums, to any kind of food i could possibly want, to clothes, to people, to accessories, to EVERYTHING in full spectrum.
i'd miss that.
but lately the pollution has been annoying me. after i come back from europe, i'll move down by prospect park, where i can run around less cars. yeah i know there's pollution in europe, but hopefully when i'm exploring the rural areas of europe, i'll be able to breathe.
tsunamis shouldnt be political
js sent me photos yesterday of the tsunami--there were over a hundred. i flipped through the first 15, but kept getting photos of powell, jerk bush, and all these other american political morons. like, is this natural disaster about american politics? why aren't we seeing as many photos of sri lankan, indian, etc leaders? (maybe there were but not the first 15 pics)
the cover of one of the trashy ny papers had something on it like "we're giving this $$$ to the tsunami victims to show that americans have nothing against muslims." wtf? that is racist in itself. like, "i'm going to be nice to you even though i don't have to." what about charity, helping those who are down?
this country disgusts me daily. i am embarassed to live here.
these are not my leaders.
the cover of one of the trashy ny papers had something on it like "we're giving this $$$ to the tsunami victims to show that americans have nothing against muslims." wtf? that is racist in itself. like, "i'm going to be nice to you even though i don't have to." what about charity, helping those who are down?
this country disgusts me daily. i am embarassed to live here.
these are not my leaders.
03 January 2005
send out good energy for nanook
nanook, my little brother, a.k.a. my parents' ferret, is sick. ferrets have a lot of health problems (duncan died two years ago, the sweet little ferret, my mom's baby) but they are such playful fun creatures. my mom has been doing internet research and asking people on her ferret listservs, but the dopey male ferret of my parents is sick. nanook was always the craziest one, but he has been sick since the summer, and he can't keep his weight on. at first they thought it was an ulcer, possibly cancer now. i am sad because even though nanook has never been my favorite (sorry! neesa is my little favorite!) i have always loved nanook (my dad's fave). poor little ferret!
caramel and neesa are doing fine. neesa senses his pain, i think, because she is always cuddling with him, keeping him warm.
please send out whatever good energy you possibly have to make sure that nanook gets better, or is out of pain.
caramel and neesa are doing fine. neesa senses his pain, i think, because she is always cuddling with him, keeping him warm.
please send out whatever good energy you possibly have to make sure that nanook gets better, or is out of pain.
but in yoga....
please, if you are ever late for Yoga class, and you see the class has already begun (students are meditating, teachers are talking, etc), esp if curtains have been drawn, blinds have been shut, etc--PLEASE don't enter. it is SO disturbing to the others!
i love yoga
i've really been getting back into Yoga. it feels wonderful. i tried the power yoga video thing, and that didnt work. i did the videos like twice. i should do them more, probably when it's icy out and i'm afraid to go running.
but i love the spiritual aspect of yoga---that's why i do it. i love the way i feel now--cleansed, yet disrupted. i feel pure. i feel free. i feel ready to eat sprouts and live on a farm.
i love learning things. i love how a simple phrase my teacher will utter will truly change the way i look at things. i had teachers before, when i lived in boulder, who were good--and when i was younger, i love lillian. but lately i have been clicking with my teachers--and it is making all the difference.
"live every day as if it is your last" is the practice summer, my yoga teacher, has instilled in us. i am feeling it; tell the people you love how you feel; be kind to strangers; be kinder to your friends; be kind to yourself; do what you love; stop procrastinating; however, do relax. i am feeling wonderful. whenever i stray i need to reread this post.
summer also advised us to enjoy arrivals and departures, to smile through pain and sadness and anger. and it is working. i am trying to enjoy the space i have in my relationship, happy that my love is happy. and i am happy.
but i love the spiritual aspect of yoga---that's why i do it. i love the way i feel now--cleansed, yet disrupted. i feel pure. i feel free. i feel ready to eat sprouts and live on a farm.
i love learning things. i love how a simple phrase my teacher will utter will truly change the way i look at things. i had teachers before, when i lived in boulder, who were good--and when i was younger, i love lillian. but lately i have been clicking with my teachers--and it is making all the difference.
"live every day as if it is your last" is the practice summer, my yoga teacher, has instilled in us. i am feeling it; tell the people you love how you feel; be kind to strangers; be kinder to your friends; be kind to yourself; do what you love; stop procrastinating; however, do relax. i am feeling wonderful. whenever i stray i need to reread this post.
summer also advised us to enjoy arrivals and departures, to smile through pain and sadness and anger. and it is working. i am trying to enjoy the space i have in my relationship, happy that my love is happy. and i am happy.
happy new years!
a time for resolutions and for starting fresh. my new year began with a 4 mile run in central park (with hot cocoa before and after and both water AND champagne at mile 2!!!), then a party and then drinks at a local bar. i love the word local.
my resolutions for 2005 are (sober resolutions):
my resolutions for 2005 are (sober resolutions):
- write more
- run more
- travel, def.
- save $
- practice yoga
- practice patience
see, they're not that different. and oh yeah, def making sure trans fat isn't in anything in my cupboard.
tsunami
if this tsunami hit LA or London or NYC or some big coastal city, well, the world would end. but honestly, there's not much talk of this tsunami amongst people (that i've overheard). the articles...they're slanted, how "the americans are saving people" (what abt the local medics, etc? they're working hard too!) and as i work in a financial services library, the mags we get focus on how much $$$ this tsunami is costing to insurers...The Economist says (p. 17, Jan 1-17, 2005) "Their bill, however, is likely to be far lower than the one that followed the hurricanes in Florida and its neighboring states earlier in 2004." The article goes on to say later "And although millions of livelihoods have been destroyed, analysts do not expect the disaster to make much of a dent in the region's overall growth prospects."
UMMMM, okay, so what they died, the economy will still be okay? This sickens me. Sometimes I hate being a corporate librarian.
The NY Times estimates (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/03/international/03cnd-quake.html?oref=login&hp) "as many as 150,000 dead, 500,000 seriously injured, millions of homeless and hungry and tens of thousands missing - there was a sense of progress and even rays of hope."
I am going to donate money through network for good later today. I think the minimum dontation is $10--don't go out to dinner this weekend and donate $10. http://www.networkforgood.org/ You can choose where you want your donation to go.
In the meantime, send our prayers, good energy, love, whatever you can do.
UMMMM, okay, so what they died, the economy will still be okay? This sickens me. Sometimes I hate being a corporate librarian.
The NY Times estimates (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/03/international/03cnd-quake.html?oref=login&hp) "as many as 150,000 dead, 500,000 seriously injured, millions of homeless and hungry and tens of thousands missing - there was a sense of progress and even rays of hope."
I am going to donate money through network for good later today. I think the minimum dontation is $10--don't go out to dinner this weekend and donate $10. http://www.networkforgood.org/ You can choose where you want your donation to go.
In the meantime, send our prayers, good energy, love, whatever you can do.
30 December 2004
remembering
it was after prom.
this was years ago but it was still stuck in her mind. now thirty, she sat behind the tiny knitting cafe counter she worked at, knitting and purling and watching how quickly the periwinkle fabric turned and twisted in her hands, something she could not do twelve years ago, but now taught people how to do it, as her job, along with making cappuccinos and coffees and teas and baking organic and vegan muffins. she tried not to think of the divorce proceedings that were currently occupying her life, the pregnant cat at her house, half of whose kittens would belong to her soon-to-be ex-husband.
but after the prom, they did the going to a club thing, drinking out of flasks or cheap plastic cups, then going to the beach, still drinking out of flasks or cheap plastic cups, and then going to the lady luck diner and eating eggs. one out of every four students threw up in the parking lot. they all went to their respective houses, to tell their parents they had a great time, and slept till the late afternoon. the rest of the weekend was consumed by drinking, clubs, wild hotel parties, sex, and/or takeout food.
marey woke at seven in the evening on the day after the prom, and drank two glasses of powdered iced tea upon waking. (she knew nothing of teas then, just instant and regular hot tetley. she knew nothing of herbal or steeping or antioxidants.) she called her then-boyfriend, who came over. he was acting weird, and marey knew it was over. while he sat and talked with his best friend, mostly ignoring her, she went into her backyard and swam in the pool. after she dried off, he had left. she saw his car going down the block; she had hoped he would hop in the pool, greeting her tired mouth with his warm red lips.
her best friend came over. "why did jay leave? aren't you guys going dancing?"
"i guess not. fuck these suburbs. let's leave."
marey pulled on a black summer dress over her wet bathing suit. her hair smelled of chlorine and she was glad her hair was short--it always looked good, even without combing.
krissy called jay for her while she applied coral lipstick. “what the fuck is up with ditching my best friend?” this was when it was normal for your best friend to mediate your problems with your boyfriend. jay told her nothing was wrong. (really, he was getting into drugs, coke and acid and whatever else was around, above all weed.) he told krissy he was getting high. krissy told him to clean up his act or he was going to lose marey. “i don’t give a shit,” he told krissy, which she told marey only two years later, wanting to spare her friend the pain.
after a suitable lie (marey was sleeping at krissy’s, while krissy’s mom thought she was sleeping at marey’s) they walked to the commuter train station. they were almost late for the train, and ran the last quarter mile, arriving at the station breathless. they spent their train ride talking in soft voices, not sure what to do.
“st. mark’s place. it’s the coolest.”
as soon as the train arrived in the city, they went to a drug store inside the train station. they had forgotten their lipstick. there was a condom sale, and krissy wanted to buy the discounted trojans. marey paid for her rose pink lipstick, and they left.
they wandered around the train station, studying maps, until they figured their way to the street they so desired, a street on which marey would later live, when it would be labeled “so overrated.”
they were not sure what to do once they got their. they hopped on the subway, studying the map, subtly staring at people. as they exited the subway, marey began crying. she wouldn’t say what it was about, but it was of course about a boyfriend who she didn’t really like that much anyway—but it was the fact that their ties were being severed.
they went to an all-night bagel and pizza café. marey got a sesame bagel with an inch and a half of cream cheese, while krissy got two slices of greasy pepper pizza. krissy had never been to st. mark’s and was impressed. marey had been here before—had had her back pressed tight against a doorway while making out with a guitar player from an unknown punk band two months ago, on this very street, after eating at the very same pizza and bagel café.
they ate. they drank juice in small cartons. in the bathroom, marey ignored the small baggies decorating the floor and studied herself in the mirror. too boring. she applied excess lipstick, dotted the pink color on her cheeks and rubbed, as if it were rouge. she scrunched her hair up, pushed her dress down, revealing more cleavage. the wet spots from the bathing suit had almost, but not completely, dried.
on the street, marey bought barrettes from a store that was somehow still open, even at midnight. she put them on in front of a mirror the cashier had handed her, fastening her hair back. she bought an extra pair in a different color, that she dropped into her purse.
they wandered around, between glowing embers and couples making out and drunk nyu students and loud music spilling out of clubs and shrieking of sidewalk bars and the fried food of restaurants. krissy bought a cd from a street vendor.
they sat on the curb in front of a store that had closed hours earlier. they had never smoked before but krissy bummed a cigarette off of a cop, and they passed it back and forth between each other, coughing ever-so-slightly. a couple walked past, and stopped.
later, marey would never remember what they had been discussing. they were never sure if they were a couple or just friends, but eventually, marey was kissing the girl who was a thin model (marey later saw her in cosmetic ads) and krissy made out with the tall and somewhat feminine man (who they later realized was a woman).
on the train later: omigod, are we lesbians? but for now, just kiss.
after the kissing stopped, krissy and marey continued walking. they averted their eyes, and bought a pack of cigarettes. they went into a bar and shared beers. they drank and smoked until their money ran out. then they let two law students buy them drinks, and lied about their ages. they made up an elaborate story. the boys had to leave to study for a test.
krissy and marey left the bar when it closed. they walked back to the suburban train station, skipping the subway ride for a long walk through the still-humming streets. they were tired. they bought a snapple to share, and gum to disguise their heavily nicotine breath.
“god. this is so not normal for a prom weekend.”
they got on the commuter train bound for their hometown when arriving in the station, and found the streets in the suburbs much darker, much quieter. dew covered everything. they heard their breath. unlike the city, which hummed and grew and breathed life and energy even so late, the suburbs were scary and empty. the girls ran back to krissy’s, ran the four miles. they ran into sprinklers, and constantly looked around. no one was there.
they ran into krissy’s backyard, where they climbed the tall oak to the treehouse they no longer used. it was good for times like these. stinking of nicotine and beer and sweat and even, a little on marey, chlorine, they slept until the afternoon.
and now years later, marey wondered what had happened to jay. here she was: divorced at a year when she should have been having children. she knew krissy was living in iowa, teaching kindergarten and married with two children. her husband was a children’s author. she was successful. supposedly. all of these facts had come through friends of friends, and had marey inquired further she would have learned that krissy’s husband had left her for their babysitter, and her husband got custody, and that krissy was depressed and planning on quitting teaching to travel around the world.
but somehow, none of this matters because memories are the most important.
29 December 2004
new year's resolutions
i was really drunk (cosmos, cranorvodkas, and prescription medicine that does more than "intensify the effects of alcohol" as the label claimed) and wrote this at g lounge. g is for gay.
- drink more, go out more (be social).
- write more
- eliminate trans fat from my life
- hang out with friends i never see more
- have more orgasms, esp more sex (w/ t only)
- run more
- save$
- practice yoga more
26 December 2004
i am so sick of memoirs
have you noticed that suddenly everyone thinks their life is so interesting? i mean, i've had some pretty interesting things happen to me and i could analyze my life in a book, or talk about how much i love my trevor and how the night we fell in love i just knew it--and really, to my friends, it's interesting. "wow, that's how you met trevor?" "really, you accidentally closed the car door on your sister's hand and you cried?" "your cat is so cute." and etcetera.
but seriously, all of the sudden, there are these terrible, boring memoirs out there that are too much. many of the people don't have writing skills, and of course, don't realize that much of their life is BORING. if you are going to write a memoir, skip all the childhood shit--yeah it influences who you are, but it's boring. and no one cares about your grandma teaching you how to crochet or your first period if it doesn't directly apply to the memoir. i skim that stuff. lately, even if i find a good memoir (rare), i end up skimming much of it.
so if you think your life is so freaking interesting, you should write a blog instead of a memoir, or get some more friends. but if you think you need to publish it in a book, read tons of memoirs, please, and see what i'm talking about. cut all the shit that is even remotely boring--and have a trusted friend read it who is a ruthless editor. study what a memoir is--you focus on a certain element of your life--your eating disorder, your addiction to mountain biking, your obsession with cats (i'm not writing a memoir about luna because words could not capture her wonder!)--and cut all the other stuff. and tons of shitty pictures don't do anything for it.
and if you still think, 'well, hmm, my idea is good but...' don't write it if you don't need to. but if you want to, why don't you fictionalize it? and when you are writing this novel, let real life influence the events, but don't limit yourself--as in, if your brother did or didn't do that, be creative and make something new happen.
now i'm going to work on a novel--that may or may not be true.
but seriously, all of the sudden, there are these terrible, boring memoirs out there that are too much. many of the people don't have writing skills, and of course, don't realize that much of their life is BORING. if you are going to write a memoir, skip all the childhood shit--yeah it influences who you are, but it's boring. and no one cares about your grandma teaching you how to crochet or your first period if it doesn't directly apply to the memoir. i skim that stuff. lately, even if i find a good memoir (rare), i end up skimming much of it.
so if you think your life is so freaking interesting, you should write a blog instead of a memoir, or get some more friends. but if you think you need to publish it in a book, read tons of memoirs, please, and see what i'm talking about. cut all the shit that is even remotely boring--and have a trusted friend read it who is a ruthless editor. study what a memoir is--you focus on a certain element of your life--your eating disorder, your addiction to mountain biking, your obsession with cats (i'm not writing a memoir about luna because words could not capture her wonder!)--and cut all the other stuff. and tons of shitty pictures don't do anything for it.
and if you still think, 'well, hmm, my idea is good but...' don't write it if you don't need to. but if you want to, why don't you fictionalize it? and when you are writing this novel, let real life influence the events, but don't limit yourself--as in, if your brother did or didn't do that, be creative and make something new happen.
now i'm going to work on a novel--that may or may not be true.
20 December 2004
spongey
i'm a spongey person. the emotions of those surrounding me, and the art i view and hear and read and experience changes and influences me very profoundly. like if someone is upset and tells me about it, i absorb their anger. when someone's boyfriend is a real jerk, i get angry at him too. when someone's girlfriend does something sweet, i feel "awwww." when someone around me is crying, i try to help them and give them my strength, while absorbing their tears. i'm very emotional. i never really thought about it, whether or not other people are like this, but i guess not. but if you are ever feeling anything you need to talk about and want a friend, i'm here for you.
19 December 2004
stress
i guess i take things too seriously. i have been feeling really crappy all day, coughing and wheezing and stressing. i'm feeling really depressed and overwhelmed. this paper is driving me nuts...i work on it for 2 minutes and then spend 10 minutes freaking out. the professors at my library school have designed my classes and coursework to make my life a living hell. i really hate library school and i dont understand why anyone would want to teach it. ugh. so here i am stressing on the definition of archive and how much i hate formats and how i'm never going to fucking write a library paper once i'm out of library school. i just want to be a mediocre librarian--helping people, going to ALA and midwinter and doing crafts with teens and whatever i would be doing but not doing this stuff. i hav no interest in library academia.
can i have a puff of air?
last night was good b/c no one was smoking. but still, i can't breathe. seeing all these smokers, and i'm coughing, and i realize i can never ever date anyone who smokes. my ex smoked, but this was years ago, years before i was diagnosed (though i had asthma then) and it was some sort of forbidden thing...oh i'm kissing a boy who smokes. i never had any desire to smoke and think it is so gross. i'd like some air please.
i guess as an asthmatic i just wish i could breathe normally. i'm in my apartment and yet i'm wheezing and coughing and generally feeling like shit (working on this stupid paper probably has something to do with the feeling like shit part). and i just wish i could breathe normally and feel good. so i just can't understand why anyone would smoke and destroy their lungs...i mean, give me your working strong lungs, take my shitty ones, then you'll know how it feels not to breathe.
i guess as an asthmatic i just wish i could breathe normally. i'm in my apartment and yet i'm wheezing and coughing and generally feeling like shit (working on this stupid paper probably has something to do with the feeling like shit part). and i just wish i could breathe normally and feel good. so i just can't understand why anyone would smoke and destroy their lungs...i mean, give me your working strong lungs, take my shitty ones, then you'll know how it feels not to breathe.
the secrets you get from socializing
i went out this weekend and got tipsy two nights in a row, which would be fine if i wasn't trying to finish revising this stupid paper by wednesday. instead i want to make xmas gifts, figure out something else nice to get my parents, get venessa one more thing, and get my grandma more writing paper. i'm in front of a computer, and my paper for my thesis are on my desk--a start.
i drank sangria at my friend's boyfriend's show at this beautiful soho studio--and then i'm thinking, watching people dance, how it's so amazing to be an artist b/c you offer something to people--a part of yourself. and as an artist, seeing people get excited or inspired or altered by my work--i know i've made a success. and even tho t and i beg to differ, i think of the speech at my graduation--being an artist is a higher calling.
last night went to a complacent party. www.complacent.org they are a group of artists who enjoy music, experimentation, influence of all different cultures and experiences. a lot of burning man people, artists, musicians. they usually create a really intense atmosphere--with effigies, sculptures, paintings, free body painting, random spontaneous art being created and sought out. last night the coat check room, among other things, had 4 or 5 tvs, from large to small, lined up, all playing rudolph the red nosed reindeer. emily had never seen so we got drunk while i narrated. she loved herbie. the bumble is SO cute even tho he tries to eat clarice! so i'm dancing and drinking and sweating and drinking from my friends' glasses and bottles and feeling so full of love...i meet some crazy burning man guy with fuzzy pants, dance all crazy with him. there's some obnoxious heterosexual men with fucking holly over their head (if you brought mistletoe you got $3 off the invite) and em and i keep going "that's holly." there were a lot of heterosexual men and i was so grossed out--ugh, go away. i took my hair down and whipped it in front of my face as i danced...that way they couldnt look at me and i couldnt see their beady little eyes staring at me. overall i feel disgusted at men right now and dont want anything to do with them...i did go with j. but he's the nice big bro i never had.
but bk to art. i love complacent b/c they're constantly creating and recreating and bringing together all different people and experiences. new nation was a party they threw in the summer and i cheered with the cheerleaders, danced with these indian-inspired musicians who were fucking amazing, dancing inside a sweaty crowded room, met people, got lost, felt overwhelmed by the intense atmosphere. i like to create art when i am someplace, exploding with words and feelings and an intense form of dance and omigod, everything is SO funny.
and that's the thing about art. you make it not to enjoy it yourself, but to share it. and i like to share. so here's some more of me, more of my art.
i drank sangria at my friend's boyfriend's show at this beautiful soho studio--and then i'm thinking, watching people dance, how it's so amazing to be an artist b/c you offer something to people--a part of yourself. and as an artist, seeing people get excited or inspired or altered by my work--i know i've made a success. and even tho t and i beg to differ, i think of the speech at my graduation--being an artist is a higher calling.
last night went to a complacent party. www.complacent.org they are a group of artists who enjoy music, experimentation, influence of all different cultures and experiences. a lot of burning man people, artists, musicians. they usually create a really intense atmosphere--with effigies, sculptures, paintings, free body painting, random spontaneous art being created and sought out. last night the coat check room, among other things, had 4 or 5 tvs, from large to small, lined up, all playing rudolph the red nosed reindeer. emily had never seen so we got drunk while i narrated. she loved herbie. the bumble is SO cute even tho he tries to eat clarice! so i'm dancing and drinking and sweating and drinking from my friends' glasses and bottles and feeling so full of love...i meet some crazy burning man guy with fuzzy pants, dance all crazy with him. there's some obnoxious heterosexual men with fucking holly over their head (if you brought mistletoe you got $3 off the invite) and em and i keep going "that's holly." there were a lot of heterosexual men and i was so grossed out--ugh, go away. i took my hair down and whipped it in front of my face as i danced...that way they couldnt look at me and i couldnt see their beady little eyes staring at me. overall i feel disgusted at men right now and dont want anything to do with them...i did go with j. but he's the nice big bro i never had.
but bk to art. i love complacent b/c they're constantly creating and recreating and bringing together all different people and experiences. new nation was a party they threw in the summer and i cheered with the cheerleaders, danced with these indian-inspired musicians who were fucking amazing, dancing inside a sweaty crowded room, met people, got lost, felt overwhelmed by the intense atmosphere. i like to create art when i am someplace, exploding with words and feelings and an intense form of dance and omigod, everything is SO funny.
and that's the thing about art. you make it not to enjoy it yourself, but to share it. and i like to share. so here's some more of me, more of my art.
17 December 2004
what you've taught me
friday night. just squeezed into my salmon-colored cords which i notice are tighter. they used to be looser. back when i was a marathoner. now i'm a sloth. not really, but being injured and not running for a month had me gain back a few pounds, which i needed. "too thin, too thin. are you eating?" people would ask me. i think i ate more the day before the marathon than i ever have in my life. i was eating something carb-based every hour. mmmmmmm. the best thing abt being an athlete is that you can eat whatever you want. yum.
so what have i been taught? i've taught i don't need to be stick-thin or a certain size to be perfect. in grade school, i was SO thin people would taunt me. skip to high school where a vegetarian track runner finds herself going, "oh doritos are vegetarian!" like those runs we'd do to the 7/11 by the train station, and eat doritos and drink the HUGE--i mean the biggest one if you've ever been to a 7/11, yeah that fucking HUGE one--slurpees on the platform, talking, gossing. and then feeling sick on the run back. and then of course my best friend is SO thin...in college she's modeling and i'm jealous. she says, "i would kill to have your tits. and look at my ass. so fat." i don't think we'll ever be satisfied. i mean, maybe men are different. t. says he's going to be bald but doesn't seem too concerned about it. m. has gray hair, started since he was in his teens. it makes him look cute.
we all have our issues. we hide behind these layers of NOT US. like makeup and rouge and lipgloss and gel and sweaters and jewelry and backpacks and books and 100% cashmere coats and whatever else is it that's really nothing more than an accessory in our lives: an accessory to us.
i remember this one time. we were lying in bed, perhaps we had just made love. we were naked, back when we lived in the dorms. i used to be one of those candy raver jewelry kids--tons of bracelets--jelly, beads, etc--necklaces, rings. hanging out with the candy ravers, exchanging bracelets and lollypops.
but then you said, "can i do something?"
i'd let you do whatever it is you wanted. you took off all my jewelry--bracelet after bracelet--bracelets half-way up my forearm; my rings, i was probably wearing a lot, my necklaces. and then you looked at me. i looked more naked. very slowly, in silence.
"now, this is you. you are so beautiful. without all that stuff. this is you."
and i knew this stuff all along but something clicked. i felt better somehow.
at the next raves i went to, i still hung out with the candy ravers, laughing at my friends, but instead of trading bracelets, i gave them away. i knew that i needed to only be true, to only stay who i am.
today i wear jewelry--what very little of it i own--but i realize that you can't hide. fancy hairstyles and all these little sidelines to your life--they're just an addition, not important. focus on you, who you are, and what you love to do.
so what have i been taught? i've taught i don't need to be stick-thin or a certain size to be perfect. in grade school, i was SO thin people would taunt me. skip to high school where a vegetarian track runner finds herself going, "oh doritos are vegetarian!" like those runs we'd do to the 7/11 by the train station, and eat doritos and drink the HUGE--i mean the biggest one if you've ever been to a 7/11, yeah that fucking HUGE one--slurpees on the platform, talking, gossing. and then feeling sick on the run back. and then of course my best friend is SO thin...in college she's modeling and i'm jealous. she says, "i would kill to have your tits. and look at my ass. so fat." i don't think we'll ever be satisfied. i mean, maybe men are different. t. says he's going to be bald but doesn't seem too concerned about it. m. has gray hair, started since he was in his teens. it makes him look cute.
we all have our issues. we hide behind these layers of NOT US. like makeup and rouge and lipgloss and gel and sweaters and jewelry and backpacks and books and 100% cashmere coats and whatever else is it that's really nothing more than an accessory in our lives: an accessory to us.
i remember this one time. we were lying in bed, perhaps we had just made love. we were naked, back when we lived in the dorms. i used to be one of those candy raver jewelry kids--tons of bracelets--jelly, beads, etc--necklaces, rings. hanging out with the candy ravers, exchanging bracelets and lollypops.
but then you said, "can i do something?"
i'd let you do whatever it is you wanted. you took off all my jewelry--bracelet after bracelet--bracelets half-way up my forearm; my rings, i was probably wearing a lot, my necklaces. and then you looked at me. i looked more naked. very slowly, in silence.
"now, this is you. you are so beautiful. without all that stuff. this is you."
and i knew this stuff all along but something clicked. i felt better somehow.
at the next raves i went to, i still hung out with the candy ravers, laughing at my friends, but instead of trading bracelets, i gave them away. i knew that i needed to only be true, to only stay who i am.
today i wear jewelry--what very little of it i own--but i realize that you can't hide. fancy hairstyles and all these little sidelines to your life--they're just an addition, not important. focus on you, who you are, and what you love to do.
16 December 2004
I don't want to have children--don't tell me I'll change my mind
I really hate children. I don't find them cute. I find them annoying, ugly, disgusting. Yes, I am mean. I don't want them. When my partner called me last week as I sat in a crowded waiting room of a doctor's office, surrounded by screaming and whining children, all I could say was, "I'm in hell." My partner doesn't think I should ever have children; we were talking about it once years ago, and I said, "I don't want a boy. If it's a boy, I'll get an abortion." (When I was little, I said that I was going to have girl babies. My mother told me you can't pick a girl or boy, and I said if it was a boy I'd throw it in a dumpster.) My partner doesn't want to have children either, but because of my antiboy stance, I am simply too mean.
But this I will keep to myself (except for you, dear reader).
What I cannot stand is when people tell me, "Oh, you'll change your mind," "Oh you'll want to eventually," "But you'll love them when they're yours." Um, no. And don't tell me what I'll do. "I didn't want kids, but look how happy I am." No thanks.
T & I did decide if we ever want kids, we'll wait a year--so we can realize how much we like having our independence, evaluate if we can do it, see if it's more impt than having $ (t's main reason for not wanting kids is b/c it costs $$$$$).
But seriously: you may be well-meaning, but it's RUDE to ask about children and to insist someone will change their mind. Leave them alone. Ask them about their life, not the children they don't and never will have. If they do change your mind, swallow that "I told you so."
But this I will keep to myself (except for you, dear reader).
What I cannot stand is when people tell me, "Oh, you'll change your mind," "Oh you'll want to eventually," "But you'll love them when they're yours." Um, no. And don't tell me what I'll do. "I didn't want kids, but look how happy I am." No thanks.
T & I did decide if we ever want kids, we'll wait a year--so we can realize how much we like having our independence, evaluate if we can do it, see if it's more impt than having $ (t's main reason for not wanting kids is b/c it costs $$$$$).
But seriously: you may be well-meaning, but it's RUDE to ask about children and to insist someone will change their mind. Leave them alone. Ask them about their life, not the children they don't and never will have. If they do change your mind, swallow that "I told you so."
14 December 2004
12 December 2004
merry f-ing christmas
i love the holidays. i love christmas. i love decorating, i love wrapping presents, i love watching people open presents that i selected for them. i just feel really depressed and not into christmas this year. and all the pressure. what do you get for someone that you want to smack in the face 80% of the time? how do you show your cat that she is the most special thing in your life? how do you endure christmas dinner with relatives and family how enjoy starting arguments, are mentally ill (whether they know it or not), and have opposing viewpoints? damn, i'm gonna need a lot of wine this year. and i have some gifts i want to make, but like, i have so much time with school? exactly.
i don't have PMS. i just am really cranky with everybody and everything right now, except my cat. i'm tired, i'm exhausted, i don't want to do it anymore. like putting all yr effort into a relationship that is sitting in the toilet, waiting to be flushed. i've been so negative lately, sorry.
on the up note, i'm listening to christmas music. LOVE IT! i'm going to make some cocoa later and sit by my little tree. and i'm taking off a week and a half for the holidays and am hoping to spend the bulk of it writing, with some time with family and friends too. and of course, reading a lot, esp on travel books. i can't wait to go away.
i bought a pair of sparkly blue fuzzy socks and i just put them on. i felt something strange and realized there was one of those metal fasteners in it. great.
any suggestions on how to cheer up?
i don't have PMS. i just am really cranky with everybody and everything right now, except my cat. i'm tired, i'm exhausted, i don't want to do it anymore. like putting all yr effort into a relationship that is sitting in the toilet, waiting to be flushed. i've been so negative lately, sorry.
on the up note, i'm listening to christmas music. LOVE IT! i'm going to make some cocoa later and sit by my little tree. and i'm taking off a week and a half for the holidays and am hoping to spend the bulk of it writing, with some time with family and friends too. and of course, reading a lot, esp on travel books. i can't wait to go away.
i bought a pair of sparkly blue fuzzy socks and i just put them on. i felt something strange and realized there was one of those metal fasteners in it. great.
any suggestions on how to cheer up?
10 December 2004
deck the halls with gobs of $$$
here i am, articles abt how hedge funds are going to destroy banking, and what i want to do is be sipping some yummy herbal tea, no, some yummy hot cocoa (real cocoa, ghiradelli please) while chilling out under a blanket, reading a novel (janet evanovich, please, b/c we all know stephanie plum gets more action than us) and chilling.
god i am so in the mood to be vapid. watch movies, paint my toenails, pet my cat, goss. i miss having such a scandalous life, this grownup stuff is boring.
once i'm done with hedge funds and LIS i'm going to become a drama queen again. i mean, t hasn't called me a drama queen or princess in forever (not like we talk much but when we do, you know). i'm doing something wrong.
who wants to have some fun?
god i am so in the mood to be vapid. watch movies, paint my toenails, pet my cat, goss. i miss having such a scandalous life, this grownup stuff is boring.
once i'm done with hedge funds and LIS i'm going to become a drama queen again. i mean, t hasn't called me a drama queen or princess in forever (not like we talk much but when we do, you know). i'm doing something wrong.
who wants to have some fun?
i'm so over library school
you know what i want to do next may? i want to get all my friends and family over and drink some good wine, some vodka, whatever it is we want to drive, eat good food, and talk abt how much libraries rule and how much library school sucks. then i'm gonna pull on my backpack and hop a plane.
doesn't that sound nice?
doesn't that sound nice?
08 December 2004
overheard dialogue
"you're an octopus," said a 30-something man pacing battery park on 5/7/04 to his cell phone
two hipster girls in the greenpoint avenue g station at 8:39 am, 5/19/04
girl a: "he doesn't think of me that way!"
girl b: "yes he does, when he's drunk!"
"i don't have a life, i have a rash!" my coworker
"i tried british and it all sounded way constipated." my sister
two hipster girls in the greenpoint avenue g station at 8:39 am, 5/19/04
girl a: "he doesn't think of me that way!"
girl b: "yes he does, when he's drunk!"
"i don't have a life, i have a rash!" my coworker
"i tried british and it all sounded way constipated." my sister
scrooge: not shaving, my cat has pms, and if these next 2 wks dont fly by i'm gonna freak
i've been so busy lately. i wish i had a life. i keep turning down all these social events (i know, i'm SO popular!) and not seeing the friends i want to, not playing with luna as much as i want, not writing at all, not reading all these wonderful books on my shelves, not planning my trip as much as i want. school is eating me alive and i'm really sick of libraries. why the hell am i doing this? i mean, i'm spending two very full years on a masters' degree when in nyc i could make 38k as a librarian--wtf? that is an insanely low salary for this hell i'm putting myself thru. only to tell some idiot to stop masturbating to lesbian porn on the internet and to help ungrateful 14 year olds find info for a school project--to people saying, 'you need to get a masters degree for that? why?'
if anyone asks me again, i swear i'm gonna put my foot where the sun don't shine.
who was it that said, 'you just need to get laid?' yeah what is sex anyway? i mean, seriously, i'm abt to be a nun here.
lissy--the man or the cat--choose the cat.
library school is just really draining. and i love the holidays but no one has gotten any gifts yet (except crista, which i bought months ago knowing it would be a good gift) and my tree is bare, with no gifts underneath. i'm trying to find a gift really outrageous for my mom b/c i love her and she refuses to spoil herself...but like i have time? well i can go with my boyfriend who still hasnt bought me a bday gift xmas shopping at the last minute since i'll be revising my thesis for my advisor till then.
ugh.
anyway i'm cranky and damnit, i need some truffles. why dont i have any chocolate in this house?
back to my nonexciting life!
if anyone asks me again, i swear i'm gonna put my foot where the sun don't shine.
who was it that said, 'you just need to get laid?' yeah what is sex anyway? i mean, seriously, i'm abt to be a nun here.
lissy--the man or the cat--choose the cat.
library school is just really draining. and i love the holidays but no one has gotten any gifts yet (except crista, which i bought months ago knowing it would be a good gift) and my tree is bare, with no gifts underneath. i'm trying to find a gift really outrageous for my mom b/c i love her and she refuses to spoil herself...but like i have time? well i can go with my boyfriend who still hasnt bought me a bday gift xmas shopping at the last minute since i'll be revising my thesis for my advisor till then.
ugh.
anyway i'm cranky and damnit, i need some truffles. why dont i have any chocolate in this house?
back to my nonexciting life!
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