The Third Level

2 Months. Whoops.

2009-06-02T20:42:00.000-07:00

Been awhile. Don't know why - got busy, got happy, got a car. You know...life stuff.

It's easier to write when I'm upset or crabby, but I haven't been much of either lately. There is a lot of stuff I wish were different, a lot I wish I had that I don't, but all in all I have a pretty sweet life and I am just trying to live it. Lame sentiment, I know, but I am really focusing on getting rid of as much of the negative as I can because it really does just poison your outlook on everything and I was so tired of feeling poisoned all the time. The money, the prestige, the size 3 pants...that is all window dressing on a life that I might one day have. For now I have a stable job, awesome friends, a wonderful boyfriend, a CAR (thank the lord I don't believe in)...it's enough. Not to say that I'm settling or expecting it to be like this forever, but...well. For now, for this moment, it's enough. I am happy.

At night, I would rather go to bed grateful for what I had that day than obsessing over what I didn't. It's a good place to be in, this head space of mine. I'm digging it.

The world has gone mad

2009-04-01T21:26:00.000-07:00

More specifically, the guys around me have gone mad.

Super Tall Guy that I met last Friday at a friend's birthday gathering in Jersey sent me a Facebook message tonight saying how much fun he had talking to me and asking if I would want to meet up and get drinks in the city sometime. I am severely tempted to respond saying, "April Fools, right?"

I can't even BEGIN to explain the complicated mess that is Date R, but he too is apparently smitten.

The world? Officially off it's rocker.

Undeserved

2009-03-31T20:20:00.001-07:00

You walk down the street towards your apartment, rummaging in your purse for the keys that you know are there, that must be there, before admitting you forgot to grab them this morning. You call your roommate to be let into the house and think of how pathetic you must look on the other side of the door. You find the missing keys under the fleece you wore yesterday and the unfinished book you finally tossed aside for the trash novel you knew would be an easy, empty read. For two hours you sit on your unmade bed ignoring the laundry, crumpled papers and old soda cans around your bedroom. You check the internet for entertainment, for distraction, for procrastination. You do not do your taxes, or pay your bills, or call the bank. You do not chip away at the massive tower of smelly dishes sitting in the kitchen sink, or vacuum the living room or even put away the air mattress (still inflated from two weeks ago) that takes up 3/4 of the living room floor. You move the bottle of Kahlua you poured a drink from last night under the coffee table so that you can move your laptop with you onto the couch.

At 8:30, you finally eat dinner - an egg and cheese bagel and a can of diet soda. You do not call your mother, whom you haven't spoken to in almost three weeks because you keep forgetting to email her at work. You do not email the boy you have gone on two dates with who eagerly admitted his interest in you on Sunday. You do not try to figure out how to tell him you are still in love with someone undeserving.

And then your father calls to check in and you push aside the guilt for not having called him first and you answer his questions about your secure job and your impressive-in-this-economy raise and how well you handled your boss's two week absence and then you listen as he tells you that his sandwich shop went under and how your troubled, pig headed brother has an arrest warrant out for him on this side of the country and how the mother who you miss so much it aches called him a horrible parent for not wanting to put up the $500 for the courts so your brother can get a driver's license on the coast he ran away to last month. And you remember to breathe when your father teases you about wanting to crash your birthday party next month and you don't yell and you tell him you love him too and you thank him when he tells you how proud he is of you for doing so well.

But then you crawl into bed, onto the sheets that need washing, and you think of your father and his praise and you cry for 15, 20, 25 minutes because really, well, the only thing you accomplished today was changing the batteries in your electric toothbrush and buying a train pass and tomorrow probably won't be much different.

And so our heroine withdraws to the taiga

2009-03-30T05:55:00.000-07:00

I've felt very mentally impotent lately, hence the lack of updates. I'm too rusty at self-expression after all the months of being so stuck in the morbid recesses of my brain this fall and winter. I can only hope that the warmer, calmer weather just out of grasp (come on, April, I know you can do it) will also thaw my frozen brain.

Some one had blundered

2009-03-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

I had a really bad day. Nothing specific, really, just a super bad day in my brain.

That said, nothing improves a girl's mood quite like walking into her roommate's room at 7pm and finding said roommate 2 beers in, a computer cord around her neck, child's police badge pinned to her tank top, dancing around and rapping to Eminem.

She would get the flowers herself

2009-03-12T19:32:00.000-07:00

As I was laying in bed reading earlier I came to a startling revelation...

Virginia Woolf's writing appeals to me so much because my brain works in exactly the same way that she writes. Paragraphs and paragraphs of what seem to be unconnected thoughts and descriptions that melt together to form beautiful, usually somewhat melancholy pictures.

Weird. And, you know, vaguely awesome. Well...awesome until I remember that Virginia Woolf put stones in her pockets and walked into a river anyway.

Really? Where?

2009-03-10T17:00:00.000-07:00

According to Wii Fit, I have lost 7 pounds since Christmas.

...

I think my household machines are lying to me. It's a conspiracy.

Well, hey, assuming the Wii Fit is correct...16 pounds to go till my first goal.

I hate Britney Spears

2009-03-08T17:38:00.000-07:00

What does it say that I am more excited about my new haircut than I was about my date last night?

He was nice, and kept up his end of the conversation. He paid, and listened to me, and was very polite and all. He wasn't ugly or bad smelling.

And yet...I am still more excited about my new bangs.

Fail.

Weirdest day ever(?)

2009-03-07T12:05:00.000-08:00

Hey, you know what makes for an interesting Saturday?

Spending all morning curled up in bed with your ex-boyfriend (whose house you spent the night at) watching television and snuggling semi-platonically (look, it's complicated) and then having him drop you home so you could get ready for your date later that night.

You know what makes the entire situation even more ridiculous? Coming in to his house last night at 2am and having to make small talk with his mom who was still awake. Oh, and also, falling down the stairs this morning because you hadn't had anything to eat or drink (that wasn't rum) in over 12 hours. Oh yes, I am a magnificent creature.

I accidentally told Ben about the date too and he kept trying to talk to me about it. Sigh. At least I am in no way hungover or else this evening would be looking so much worse. For my sake, I hope this guy can hold a conversation because my life is awkward enough today.

Gearing up

2009-03-05T09:53:00.000-08:00

This is where I run out of words that describe how I'm so damn hurt.This is where I fumble and fold and take what I'm told.

Fishing?

2009-02-17T16:34:00.000-08:00

Well, after the absolute atrocity that was Friday night (I really think the lowest I have ever felt was being told by the guy I am crazy about that he "loves me like a sister"), I finally gave in and joined a popular dating website last night.

It was terrifying and hilarious and my results so far are also both terrifying and hilarious. I may not find a new love, but I am going to enjoy this, I think.

Also, I am back on the gym bandwagon. Having a partner in crime really helps get my butt in gear.

Also also, "Arrested Development" is hands down one of the funniest shows ever made.

Tu sonrisa me mata

2009-02-05T20:01:00.000-08:00

Tonight I have only one observation:

There is nothing that pudding can't make better.

Undiagnosed

2009-02-04T15:33:00.000-08:00

I am fairly certain I have undiagnosed OCD. I know, I know, a ton of people claim to be OCD, but I really wonder about myself.

Every day at work I follow the same routine. I get in, turn my computer on, take my coat off and hang it up, sit down, and take the following items out of my purse (always in the same order - always): wallet, cell phone, glasses, iPod, chapstick. These items sit in the same place on my desk.

My activity sheet at work (where I keep track of how far out I am on my stuff) needs to line up. All my monthlies must be logged out to the same date. Same thing for my weeklies. This is just so my activity sheet is more aesthetically pleasing. It REALLY, really irks me that in our new operating system I can't manually control the colors because having blank spots without color makes me CRAZY. Seriously. Crazy.

I follow the same routines in the shower and when I'm getting ready for bed.

Now, I know, all this still doesn't mean I have OCD. But when any of those routines are messed up even slightly, I get physically agitated. I have actually closed out of my activity sheet just so I wouldn't freak out about not being able to line up the colors.

So, my point is, sometimes I wonder. And, really, would anyone be that surprised if it were true? Really? When I finally get my shit together and make an appointment with a therapist maybe it's something I should look into.

In conclusion, my brain is a special special place.

Something about wishes being horses

2009-01-30T21:42:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish life were a giant Etch-a-Sketch. I have positively no talent for either, but at least with the Etch-A-Sketch everything is fixed with a couple of shakes and then, poof. Nothing.

Well, ok, maybe I should say I wish my brain were an Etch-a-Sketch.

Or, you know, maybe I should just go to bed.

Stuck

2009-01-26T20:40:00.000-08:00

One of the main motivators I've been using to try to find a new job was that I don't get paid enough at my current job. And, for what I do, I don't get paid enough. Unfortunately, my W2 came in the mail today and seeing just how much extra dough my overtime nets me was quite shocking. It put me in an entirely different pay bracket!

Needless to say, the chances of me finding a job in a new(ish) field that will pay me as much as I am making now (including overtime) AND offer me the same level of benefits and paid time off are pretty much slim to none. At least in this economy.

I hear your unasked question - Aren't you miserable there, though? Well, yes and no. The job itself has improved a lot over the past month or so. My personal problems with a few of my managers continues, but it balances out with the great friends I have there to vent and commiserate with. The ex working 50 feet from me isn't the best, but he and I are still friendly (closest description I could come up with) so even that isn't as horrible as it once was.

It isn't what I want to do with my life, but I am 24. Its paying my bills and keeping me healthy. I get to take time off to relax a bit and decompress. I have friends there. It could be a lot worse.

Sigh. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I have a much longer post in the works

2009-01-25T20:46:00.000-08:00

Meant to update the blog this weekend, but instead I slept for a total of 26 hours and spent the rest of my time prone on the living room couch half watching FRIENDS and half zoned out. I have no idea what's up with that, but hopefully it will be done with by morning. Zoning out at work tends to lead to very unhappy people in Argentina and Costa Rica.

What to expect in my forthcoming update of epicness:

1. Obama highlights
2. Navel Gazing
3. Some really vague wonderings about the future and what I might do with it

For now, though, I am going to bed. I really seem to like it there right now.

This may be the stupidest thing I have ever done

2009-01-18T19:15:00.000-08:00

Nonetheless, my train for D.C. leaves in 15 hours. Unless I get frostbite or trampled by the throngs, I'll be back on Wednesday night.

Change is coming to America and I am going to be there to witness it. Maybe it is a stupid thing to do, this going to D.C., but it is also one of the coolest things I have ever done. So...there's that!

Whoo! Obama!

Delicious

2009-01-15T17:18:00.000-08:00

Today was long and frigid. As I finally walked away from work at 5:30 (that's a 10 hour day for me, mind) I felt defeated and cold, spending both train rides home fighting exhausted tears. A nice reminder that the depression hasn't left me even thought I have felt a bit better.

Anyway, I put this song on when I got home. It's slow and moody, but so amazingly good. It lulled me into an okay place. I'm still sad and tired, but I'm sort of at peace with it.

A Record Year for Rainfal l - The Decemberists

One more day of work and then the frenzy begins.

Aren't my internal allergies enough?

2009-01-14T17:37:00.000-08:00

1. I have this weird bumpy rash thing on my inner forearms and I have NO idea what from. I just hope it isn't some weird side effect of...that. I mean, rationally I know it isn't, but. Erg. Go away, rash!

2. 4 days till D.C.!!

3. My uterus is trying to kill me.

4. Saturday night I have to go out to a Colombian restaurant with my work "team" and, for once, my stupid supervisor will be there so I can't even bitch about work! I sense a looooot of rum being imbibed.

5. I am still typing to STOP FROM SCRATCHING.

Still don't have an answer

2009-01-13T20:24:00.000-08:00

Weird without You

tired
of your circle
around me

tired
of the wait

tear a slot
in my side

feed your
loose
change

though
i'd give you
all i've got
for free

- CAConrad

Proof that I am a HUGE nerd

2009-01-12T19:34:00.001-08:00

These handbags make me salivate in ways no Kate Spade ever would.

Too bad they are only slightly less expensive than designer. Alas.

A hot complicated mess

2009-01-11T20:55:00.000-08:00

"We are really just making this harder for ourselves, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"We just keep making it more complicated."

"Do you want me to stop? I will stand up and walk away right now if you ask me to. So, tell me, honestly...do you want to stop?"

"No."

The pain of distance

2009-01-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Tonight I really miss parts of my family.

My mom, for example. I haven't seen my mom since June and it aches. A few days with her and I start to feel a bit insane, of course, but she has always been one of my best friends and to be so far from her is a physical hurt I can't get rid of. I am thrilled that she is so happy on the west coast, but why oh why couldn't she have found that happiness here in the land where earthquakes and The Governator are just things in our imaginations?

And then there is my sister. Well, stepsister really, but for all purposes she is my sister. She was always so cool (still is) even though I only saw her when I was in Staten Island (and you know how I feel about THAT). She was talented and popular and gorgeous and even though her accent made me cringe, I thought she was a goddess. When she moved away for jobs I lost my niche in NY. I lost a confidant and friend. Moving away has, like it did for my mother, helped her tons. She found herself and along the way she found her wife. They are the craziest, most wonderful insaniacs you could ever know and I miss them to pieces. I only see them every couple of years, but when I do it's always wonderful fun. I am extremely proud to tell people that my lesbian sister sings in a stage act in a theme park in Tennessee because she is one of the most content people I know and for that she will always be a role model to me.

I don't know why I miss them so much tonight, but I do. I have a family here in Philly - better frends then I could ever deserve or hope for. Sometimes, though, nothing can replace your mother's laugh or the feel of her always-slightly-too-long fingernails against your scalp as she strokes your hair in the same way she has since before you can remember.

I used to be afraid of my boobs

2009-01-05T20:48:00.000-08:00

Note: This entire entry is TMI. You have been warned.

On January 8th of the year 2000, I began dating a boy. It had taken him almost four months of nightly phone calls and daily group lunches for him to screw up the courage to "ask me out" and it was the most awkward conversation of my life. Earlier that day I had admitted to our joint friend that I liked him too and she couldn't hang up fast enough to go dish with him. And then, then...the phone call. Let's relive it, shall we? -

Scene: My bedroom. I am wearing nothing but a towel, my wet hair dripping down my back and I am running late for my friend's birthday dinner. My mom enters and hands me the phone.

We: *exchange the heys and what's ups of most teenage conversations*
Him: So, Friend F called me earlier and told me...
Me, interrupting: Yeah, uh, I know, she told me she was going to call you...
Him: So, I mean, would you...do you...
Me, interrupting: Oh, I know what you are going to ask. Um, look, I'm running late for Friend S's dinner thing, I think I...can I tell you my answer tomorrow?
Him: Oh, um, yeah, sure, if you need.
Me: Great, bye!

And then we dated for almost 6 years. He was my first love, my first heartbreak and my first...well, you know. It took us over three months to make out, almost a year for me to let him get to second base and I believe I gave him an impassioned speech on afternoon about why I thought oral sex was a horridly disgusting idea and should never be attempted (never say I don't admit when I'm wrong!). It was two years before we slept together. I thought it was scandalous that we fooled around in his car on my weekends home from college. I liked it all, don't get me wrong, but there was always a feeling of, "maybe I'm a skank! Should I not be doing this with him?"

The point of this post? Today I sat down and seriously plotted out a scheme to start booty calling my most recent ex. Who is this woman I've become, scheming for one night stands with mentally unavailable men? And, more importantly, why don't I care? Why am I still so glad to be rid of the 15 year old girl who thought she would get in trouble for kissing her boyfriend with tongue outside of her high school? Thinking devious thoughts about seducing guys shouldn't make me feel empowered, should it?

Food for thought while I talk myself out of texting my ex and telling him how much I want to do all the things to him that my teenage self fled from in terrified disgust. I really just want to take her by the hand and tell her, "There, there. Try it...you'll like it."

Martha Stewart, eat your heart out...or give me a call. Either way.

2009-01-03T10:02:00.000-08:00

Today I am attempting to cook an entire holiday dinner for my friends. Turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, corn, cranberry sauce, and crescent rolls. Oh, and pie and ice cream, but those were store bought. Now, I admit, much of that is coming from boxes, but the turkey might be, to quote the immortal Joey Tribiani, "my Everest."

I have never cooked a turkey. For last year's Fake Christmas, Amanda handled most of the food and even she almost set our oven on fire cooking the turkey. I have read the instructions about eight times, gotten up three times to make sure the gobbler was defrosting correctly, and I have everything lined up and ready to go. Let's just hope life throws me no curve balls, shall we? And, hey, worst comes to worse - we have pie and ice cream. How can that be bad? Right?

And then he bought me a milkshake

2009-01-01T16:44:00.001-08:00

Well. As expected, last night was...interesting.

Waking up with my ex-boyfriend wrapped around me may not have been the plan, but I can't say it was unwelcome. Stupid? Sure. Complicated? Absolutely. But damn was it good. So, whatever. I am deciding to just let it be what it was for the moment. In the future, maybe it will mean something. Probably will, actually. But for now, it's something that happened, something I enjoyed way much more than I should have. And I am okay with that.

I am not okay with having gone to bed at 7:30am and waking up at 3:45pm hungover with the spins. Cuddling can only help that so much. Time to hydrate and call it an early night.

Welcome, 2009. It's going to be quite a year.

Throwing out the old

2008-12-29T18:08:00.000-08:00

Wednesday is New Year's Eve. 2008 has been a piss poor excuse for a year and I am ready to see it go. So, today I decided that on December 31st, anything goes. What happens in 2008 stays in 2008!

Depending on how much I drink, this could be very interesting. Stay tuned.

A plague o'both your houses

2008-12-28T19:12:00.000-08:00

Having just finished watching the epically awesome 1996 Romeo + Juliet, I have to say that I am realizing once again just how old and jaded I have become.

When I first read Romeo and Juliet I was 14 and had never been in love (shockingly enough for a high school freshman). And, like all teenage girls I thought it was just so horribly romantic! To die for your true love! Destiny! Fate! War! Love was like a drug that I looked forward to getting addicted to once I found my very own balcony climbing Romeo.

Now? Now I sit here thinking, "Well, Billy S., looks like you're saying that true love will only cause murder, grief, confusion and, ultimately, suicide for both me and my lover." Instead of swooning, I just feel sad. Romeo and Juliet had all of two nights and one wedding together! Their parents are now left completely childless! They only got to have sex ONCE. I mean, come on!

Of course, the real issue is probably that some may look at the ending and think, "they will have each other for eternity now" while my black atheistic little heart just shakes its head slowly. Besides, I am no expert on Christianity by any means, but...isn't suicide one of those unforgivable sins or whatever? I guess you could ask whether it is better to fry in Hell with the one you love or not have found love at all, but that would be edging over into the philosophical side of things and I barely managed a B+ in Intro to Philosophy so I better leave that to the experts.

Swag

2008-12-28T11:40:00.000-08:00

Now that I am home, and much less homicidal, let's take inventory:

From The Mom:
-$100 cash

From The Dad and Stepmom:
- $200
- Old lady slippers
- Backgammon (who knows)
- PJs
- A book on how to be Emo (The Dad thinks he's funny)
- A 2009 HP calendar
- Chapstick, Certs, hand sanitizer, shoes that don't fit, body wash and lotion (this was in my "stocking")
- Frog statue thing

From The Criminal Brother:
- Nothing. Shock.

From The Littler Brother:
- HIMYM Season 3

From The Cousin:
- Romeo and Juliet on DVD (DiCaprio version, duh)

From The Uncle Who Had Me for Family Exchange:
- Arrested Development (all 3 seasons)

From The Grandpa:
- A scarf and $60 to Charlotte Russe

From Other Random Relatives and Friends:
- Necklace
- $55
- Bath fizzes
- Bath pillow
- Book Light
- Candy
- Numerous tubes of chapstick (whoo)
- Earmuffs
- Hair elastics

All in all, not too shabby, although my dad and stepmom were clearly on crack this year. I am under strict instructions from them not to use the money they gave me for bills, so hey. Who am I to argue?

Pure Evil

2008-12-27T20:39:00.001-08:00

No matter how bad it is here, I keep telling myself that it could always be worse.

Shooting an 8 year old on Christmas Eve. I mean...there are no words to describe that kind of evil. None. My only regret is that he escaped too easily. The fucker should have served some time before being sent to the chair. If anyone deserved a good ass raping it was him. God.

Also, just saying, but this is yet another thing to add to my list of reasons why being an old maid might not be so bad....

Leaving NY in about 9 hours. Hallelujah.

The Island

2008-12-26T21:26:00.000-08:00

I am stuck in Staten Island until Sunday morning. This is not good news, but I am at least comforting myself by knowing that I am apparently going to be given cash when my father drops me off. How much, who knows, but I will take what I can get. Anyway, SI is not my favorite place on earth. Not even close, really. In fact, I loathe this island. Earlier today I broke open the Season 3 HIMYM DVDs I received from my brother (the younger one, not the criminal) and in the very first episode Barney says something to Ted along the lines of, "If Robin's a 10, we'll find you a twelve...or 2 sixes...failing that, 4 threes. If we get really desperate we will go to Staten Island and get you 12 ones." I'm with you, Barney. This island is a blight on the east coast and I would rather be almost anywhere else, but my father and his family have been rooted here ever since the divorce. I've lost of hope of that changing.

Being stuck here, however, reminds me of all the randomly strange things that bug me not about the island, but the house in which I sit trapped. Weird things that I have never been able to understand. Like, for example, how all of their glasses make beverages taste and smell funny. I don't know if it's their dishwasher or the cabinets or what, but everything I drink tastes vaguely plastic-y and stale. Or how my stepmother always twists the blinds on the bathroom windows inside out so that I am constantly having to put them right before I feel comfortable peeing. No one needs to see that, especially not the loud old Italians in the house ten feet behind ours (Staten Island doesn't believe in yard space, you see).

Then there is the fact that every time I return to this house something new has been added, but nothing ever matches. The kitchen, easily the most rundown room in the house, is decorated with strawberries most of the time, but then there are angels on the one wall. The dining room has been painted in a horrible gold color, with matching sheer drapes, but the living room is painted a bright green with pink accents. This is my stepmother's "asian" themed room, but then she bought a cherrywood coffee table to go with the old Thai furniture from my dad's childhood home in Thailand. The "finished" basement used to be Southwestern until it got cluttered with unused exercise equipment and my brother's small assortment of belongings (he sleeps on the couch). Could she not decide on a theme or does she really think this looks good? I have never been able to understand her decorating ideals and I don't suppose I ever will. At least they keep only one picture of me up on display(my sister and youngest brother show up every few feet or so) so I doubt anyone would ever confuse me for owning part of the blame for the mess.

These are things I don't understand, but accept. Having to deal with them for more than 48 hours at a time, however, tends to start to grate on me. Add in the fact that I don't even feel at home in my room and I get even more frustrated at being here. My sister and I shared this room, technically, although I only inhabited it on the weekends, holidays and summers that my father had custody. I used to have drawer space, even. I mean, sure, my bed was a hideaway and I was never allowed to give input on the room's decor, but it was still my room. Still is my room. The fact that my sister is long gone and that my stepmother sleeps in here when I'm not around (don't ask) doesn't mean I should be made to feel like a guest being treated to the gift of an actual bed. Not that you can call this old thing a bed - the mattress is ten years older than I am and I wake up most mornings feeling crippled. There isn't even a lock on the door.

I have about 32 hours to go before I get to leave here and I think I am going to spend every one of them thinking of one more thing I hate about this island and this house and then I am going to go back to my stink bug infested attic apartment with its desperate need to be cleaned and I am going to lay down on my old mattress on the floor currently serving as my bed, exhale and be thankful I'm really, truly home.

Joni knew what she was talking about

2008-12-25T21:10:00.000-08:00

A river to skate away on would be pretty freaking fantastic right now.

There is nothing better to give you some holiday cheer than:

- not having a Christmas tree, stocking or lights
- your brothers screaming "faggot"and "asshole"at one another
- your one brother spending most of the day out in the car
- your stepmother screaming at everyone
- realizing your father and stepmother don't even listen to you when they pester you to tell them what you want. I mean...backgammon? Not that I care about presents (they make me feel awkward, actually, but I digress). Still, though....my brothers got video games and jerseys and I got...backgammon and old lady slippers.
- watching your cousin's dog collapse over and over and then fall down the stairs...during Christmas dinner. Finding out later that he might have to be put down is also a bonus
- your mother crying on the phone because she misses you
- realizing you probably aren't going to be allowed to go home until Sunday

That is only the short list, too. Ugh. I am going to bed!

Twas the day before Christmas

2008-12-24T09:07:00.000-08:00

And all through the Guide
Not a person was working
Not even B9.

Ok, it's a forced rhyme, but whatever, it works!

In just under two hours I am going to exit this building and not return for five whole days.

Happy Holidays!!!

Three things

2008-12-22T21:37:00.000-08:00

1. I am finally done Christmas shopping. Well, for the gifts I need for Thursday anyway.

2. The Holiday (shut up, Leah) has inspired me to get the fuck over Ben already. He doesn't want me and as much as that might tear me up, there is nothing to be done. Time to put on my big girl panties and keep on moving, even if my movement is toward spinsterhood (look, I know it's crazy to say...remember how I need therapy?). ANYWAY, yes. Ben is the one losing in this deal because I would have stood by him through his whole ordeal and he is the one who chose to be alone. So why am I making myself suffer as well?

3. Tomorrow is the last day I have to see No Deal until 2009. This is a very good thing.

In the beginning

2008-12-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away, I had an online journal. Well, technically, I still do, but it a sad shell of a thing that I keep to stay connected to my friends from those golden days in college when I spent my free time pretending I could write and talking with people for hours on whether or not I thought Harry Potter was the last horcrux (spoiler alert: he was). These days I am lucky if I have the energy to update my Twitter or send emails to my mother.

I created this blog to get back to myself. Somewhere between Harry Potter and Twitter I became as sad a shell as my LJ. My job situation sucks (although, really, at least I have one in this economy), my heart is broken and refuses to mend, my weight is the highest it has ever been...I'm depressed. Not in the "cry, whine and eat ice cream" way it sometimes is, but in the "come home, go to bed and forget to eat dinner" way. My friends have been very supportive and I am working on getting better, but I keep coming back to those days in college when I could sit down at my desk and throw my day into an empty screen. It felt good to do that. I hope this blog gives me that same sense of release.

Not every entry will be this much of a downer, I hope, but if every now and then I revert to my Bad Place then at least I have a place to put my poisonous thoughts. Siphon them from my brain for a bit, if you will.

The point is this - if you want to really get to know me, Justine, in all her screwed up, wacky, sometimes random, sometimes fun, always weird glory, well. This is hopefully the place to do it.