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.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A plague o'both your houses
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.
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
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?
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?
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Pure Evil
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.
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.
Friday, December 26, 2008
The Island
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.
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.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Joni knew what she was talking about
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!
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!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Twas the day before Christmas
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!!!
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!!!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Three things
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.
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.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
In the beginning
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
