Tuesday, June 2, 2009
2 Months. Whoops.
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.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
The world has gone mad
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Undeserved
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.
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.
Monday, March 30, 2009
And so our heroine withdraws to the taiga
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.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Some one had blundered
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.
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.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
She would get the flowers herself
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Really? Where?
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 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.
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