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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 hate Britney Spears

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(?)

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

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?

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

Tonight I have only one observation:

There is nothing that pudding can't make better.

Undiagnosed

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

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

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

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

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

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 Rainfall - The Decemberists



One more day of work and then the frenzy begins.

Aren't my internal allergies enough?

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

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

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

"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

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

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.

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

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.