Chupa Chups: 2009

hello there 2010

2010. What can I say? All I can really say is that I’m waiting for you with open arms and empty pockets. Although I’ll be entering your glorious year almost penniless, I’m incredibly grateful to be one giant and personal debt free. This Christmas eve I have the funds to payback a dear friend. She was kind enough to loan me a big deal of money in a not-so-good time and I’m very grateful to her and for her. It has been less than two months and I’m finally able to clear out my debt. Although it has been a struggle, it is definitely an objective that was high on my to-do list. I’m incredibly grateful this Christmas eve and definitely humbled, which is a lot more than I can say about my attitude and behavior this past month. I’m definitely grateful. I’m grateful for an incredible friend (and friends) who, without asking, offered to help me. Asking for help is definitely new to my lifestyle and my vocabulary but I’m glad I got over it. I accepted the help and boy was it necessary. Their help got me out of a real financial situation- one that I was in complete denial about. I’m glad it’s over! I’m glad I’m about to hand my friend the last of the money she loaned me. I’m glad I made the decision to get out of the financial mess- even though those involved weren’t too happy with me. I stood up for myself. I stood my ground. I sought my financial freedom over others. Throughout this ordeal, I learned that a lot of people are out for themselves (of course, part of evolution so I can’t really blame them) and it’s completely fine. It wasn’t that people are out for themselves only. The problem was that I was always out for them and not me at all. I came in 789 when everyone else came as top 10. Unfortunately, it was my doing. No one is to really blame. However, I’m not going to stop putting others first at times. I just have to make it a priority to put me first 80-90 percent of the time. 2010 I await you with open arms. 2009 was a year of experience and excitement. I enjoyed every minute of it. With you, 2010, I’m hopeful. I’m hopeful that I will be a bit more mature but a bit more loving as well. I know that I will expect you more financially savvy. I’ll become closer to being the person I envision myself to be. Obviously, the layover of 2009 will carry. For example, I still need to tie up some personal loosen ends. Hopefully it won’t be too late. I hope they won’t be too mad. In any case, 2010 I await you. I have high hopes for you and myself. I’m reaching for the sky and grabbing it by the balls. Once I grab said balls, I’ll paint them red with black and white polka dots. Expect me 2010 a whole new person.

bruised and battered

I’ve been beating myself up lately. Why? Well because I feel like it. I feel like crap and it shows in the exterior. My face resembles a pepperoni pizza, again. For about a week or so, my eyes were in poor health and I couldn’t wear contacts. Hooded sweatshirts are the preferred outfit for every day of the week. Tardiness is a big word in my vocabulary. The apartment is a shit hole. It’s dusty and dirty. I’ve got the funk. I’ve got it bad. Perhaps happiness is just an illusion- a cruel joke like the American dream. Laughter is all that remains of me, and I seldom see it these days. Why? Why do I continue to battle this epic battle? Why can’t I just be content and happy? Either there is something better or I’m comparing myself with others or myself. Nothing seems to be OK and everything seems a distant memory. I’ve slacked. I’ve slacked badly. How do I get out of this? I hate this frumpy, dumpy mood. I want to finally make a reality of this image I have of myself. This strong, successful, powerful, and caring individual whose get it all going on for her. It’s not like I don’t encompass some of the qualities, I just feel that perhaps I can develop them just a tad more. Gosh! I feel like crap. My muffin top is slowly becoming a muffin roll. I’m even developing a top roll. How and when did I let it get this bad? I need help. An intervention. Salvation or a miracle, I’ll take either or both. I need help.

with open arms

Usually an eight month courtship, at least three nights sleeping in the same bed, and eating Thanksgiving dinner with the family are signs of a serious and committed relationship. You would think these individuals were serious about one another and were heading down the road to the next level, i.e., either moving in together or marriage. At the very least, you would expect both parties to be in love with each other. For my current relationship, this is not the case. We enjoy each others company and are overall satisfied with one another. However, love is not a word I can use. Something is missing for me. He encompasses some of the major criteria I desire but not the ideal one. This one criterion is the one I truly seek in all my relationships and it seems to be non-existent. My current partner is sweet, thoughtful, funny, sexy, and overall a good time. He can adapt well to all my environments. We seem to fit with one another. However, it is just not there for me; or at least not wholly. I need this one criterion. The one I truly desire. I’ve seen it in some friends but only the first stage. If I find someone that can at least accommodate me through stage three, I’ll take him. Otherwise, I’ll keep searching. I won’t be content with settling. I have nothing to gain or lose by settling. Nothing in life is that important to me anymore but I feel as if I could share that one thing with someone I may be able to enjoy it just a little bit more. Of course, he’ll also have to have the others. I’m sorry but they all must fit. The puzzle won’t be complete without it. None will do without it. I think I had that once. Someone back when encompassed this special criterion. He also had a lot of the other ones. He seemed to fit well. However, it wasn’t there for me. Something didn’t click completely. I need the click. This clicking I need is somewhat of an unusual thing. I can’t move on with my work until the click is done. I don’t purchase items until the click. I don’t do many things until the click, clicks. It sometimes makes me feel as if I’m somehow slow or challenged. Why do I need this click to go off in my head? Let’s stay focused, back to my desired partner. Where is he (or she)? I can’t discriminate. It’s the qualities I desire. The qualities make my partner. Where is my partner? I sometimes think I feel my partner nearing. Something is telling me it is coming. Hopefully I won’t miss it. Its funny how you go through life, all confused and in a daze, and slowly the puzzle starts to fit. You pull your hair trying to figure it out and once you stop tugging that’s when the puzzle begins to make sense. I’m moving forward. My heart and body are throbbing. I’m guessing this means a good thing. I’m feeling nostalgic but not so much. Sometimes it feels empowering because I reminisce about my past loves and come to the realization that they suck and this list is exactly what I want. I await for you my partner. With open arms and love.

did the sky mourn for the teacher as well?

Excuse me. Excuse me. Teach. Teach. Teach! I have a question for you. How is it that I can’t forget about you? Was it the way you wore your white Ts? Was it the blue-hooded sweatshirt you seemed to never take off? Your eyes were definitely dreamy and swimmable. With that smile of yours you could get away with murder. Did I enjoy our dinners out? Or did I enjoy cooking for you? Remember when I fell from running back and forth that day? It was the first time I had ever cooked for anyone. I cooked you a four course meal. I even conducted a pre-dinner date run. I was definitely nervous. It didn’t help that I was running in heels that day. Was your ghetto fab your most appealing quality? What was it about you that still has me hooked? Was it your fabulous duplex apartment in the heart of the West Village? I would totally love to have that apartment of yours. It was incredible, spacious, and most importantly your roommate was hardly ever there. Did our conversations attract me the most? I don’t think so. I don’t remember many quality ones. Ahhh…I spoke too soon. I do remember a particular one after I heard devastating news. You were nice about my situation; didn’t make me feel as stupid as I felt. Do you remember the Mets games we watched? I enjoyed that about you…the fact that you were a Mets fan. Remember Reservoir and the bowling alley? What was it about you that had me hooked? Was it that you were one of the last Americans I dated before heading across the pond? Something about you stuck with me. It stuck with me more than your resemblance to my friend Joe, which at first I could not get past. I enjoyed being with you. You were funny. You were a musician. The first musician I dated. I didn’t enjoy your casual, casual dress for everywhere we went. It was rather a turnoff. However, eventually I took a liking to it. How am I still hooked on you? It has been over two years now since we met and our whatever-you-want-to-call-it ended. It pained me to go away. I felt a connection with you. I don’t know what it was but it was something for me. You were one of the youngest guys I dated and yet you seemed mature for your age. You were well travelled. You spoke another language besides English. You enjoyed music. You enjoyed the classics. You enjoyed Motown hits. I enjoy Motown hits. We danced in your living room. The moment was spectacular. One weekend we were prisoners of your space. We did nothing but sleep, eat, and have sex. It was magical. When I stepped out of your place, I felt a cosmic shift. It was as if I was stepping into another realm. I was floating at your place and had stepped into some sort of heaven. Now that I’m walking down memory lane, I distinctly remember a disastrous moment. Do you know what I’m talking about? It was when you were really drunk. I met you after your concert, which I apologize yet again for missing most of it. We went with your friends to the local bar and had a few Stellas. The night eventually became a haze so we took a cab back to your place with your brother. In the hours between your passing out and your wake the next morning, the bed became heavily soiled. Soiled with urine I think. I can’t confirm with certainty but I’ve never peed in bed nor sweated so profusely as to wet an entire bed. Since there were only two of us there, I’m pretty sure the blame lies within you. Ahhh…good times? Eventually things between us became gray. I didn’t know what we were doing. I would’ve stayed in New York for you. You never asked. You wanted me to go and explore. I remember you telling me to keep in touch. I did but you didn’t. When I returned for the holidays, you were one of the only people I wanted to see. I saw you and slept with you. During the wee hours of the morning, I had to tinkle. While searching for my underoos, I spotted a brassiere. This D-cup brassiere was not mine. My little Bs don’t fit in such a massive bra. I didn’t expect for you to stay faithful to me or mourn me but I wanted some sort of residue of me in your heart. Did you even care? Did you even like me? At times it didn’t seem clear. Suffice it to say, I got the picture. I didn’t like the feeling that morning. I wanted out and I blamed jetlag for my need to scurry off at 6am. The morning walk of shame I think I’ve perfected. Never be too dressy when you go out and always carry flats, sunglasses, a hair tie, and a toothbrush and toothpaste in your bag. Now I remember the Fourth of July. You ignored me then. I remember it was a rainy Fourth of July. I had decided to “White trash” it and had gotten my six-pack, lawn chair, and headed up to the roof with my little Ipod player. It was a sad day. It was a rainy day. I listened to the soundtrack of Lily Allen. She was popular back when. It felt horrible that day to be me. I mourned for us as the skies mourned. I don’t know who cried more that day, the sky or me.

remembering earl gray

Once I almost “fell in love.” I didn’t reach the deep stages of love but I definitely brushed up upon the first stage. It was the summer of 2004. His name was….Earl Gray. I had just broken up with my “fiancée” and I was definitely ready to mingle. We first met at the Mets game. His future brother-in-law was raising money for charity or had purchased tickets for charity. Hmmm….who knows…I can’t remember correctly. In any case, we met at a Mets game. He was there with his family and I was the guest of my friend (our mutual friend) and had brought along my niece and nephew. We didn’t really talk that day but we definitely noticed each other. After a few days or even a week or two, he invited our mutual friend to a party and she brought me along. I invited three of my friends to tag along as well. (Hmm…what’s with my bringing the entourage?) We all partied the night away. The crowd I hung out with those days was pretty wild so there was never a dull moment. After being there about an hour, Earl Gray and I still hadn’t “talked.” We had some flirtatious moments but definitely not a “moment.” Later on that night we danced. He looked extra hot close up. I looked really hot and thin those days. By the end of the night my friends and I were wasted…and we have the pictures to prove it. Hmmm…I don’t remember exactly what comes next but either we exchanged numbers that night or our friend gave it to him later on. Even though I was definitely drunk that night, I was smitten. Earl Gray was exactly what I asked for in a mate- tall, dark, and handsome. He had gorgeous eyes and an even sexier smile. His hair was awesome. He wore a black collared shirt with jeans that night. He looked cute. I can’t remember exactly how our first date went down…who asked who or the conversations that happened in between. All I can remember is that we ate dinner at Fiamma in SoHo. It was an awesome and very expensive place. Can’t remember what I wore but I know I ordered the chicken and a few glasses of either wine or some other lovely cocktail. I was drunk by the end of dinner. We somehow were at some bus stop in SoHo. He asked me back to his place. I think we caught the tail end of Gothika. We finally kissed at his place. It was sweet. Nothing happened past nice (very nice) kisses. At our next date he cooked dinner for me at his place. I know I looked rather conservative that night. I think I wore a black top. I remember the tomato basil appetizer. I brought the dessert. ;) It was a selection of little sweets from Vinero’s. We definitely had wine that night. I was definitely nervous and so was he. I know that early on I went to South Beach for a bachelorette party. During my time at SoBe, I meet a very cute and flirtatious Israel guy who I kissed. Earl Gray called me while I was down there. I was excited about him. When I landed at JFK, he was waiting at the gate for me. The entourage of girls just looked on with silly grins on their faces. I waved goodbye and got in his jeep. I was honest with him. I told him about the Israeli guy. Things were never quite easy with the two of us. He had former girlfriend issues and I just didn’t know what to do. He worked with his ex-girlfriend so there was no avoiding her. I was the dependable ear. This ex-girlfriend definitely put a strain on our relationship. The sex….was somewhat fun….I felt liberated. He allowed me free reign; he was game for whatever. I was so excited about that that I tried to imagine of anything and everything I could think of. Alas, the summer of love came to an end. We had broken up. After a few days of being broken up, we somehow got back together but kept it quiet. No one knew we had decided to start all over. Unfortunately, this is where things got complicated. Our mutual friend would tell him that I was seeing other people already, which wasn’t true. He would hear about this guy and the other. Eventually, we called it quits for good. Well…he did. Early one weekend morning…I knew it was coming. Something inside of me said it was. I sort of braced myself for it. From the beginning, I know things weren’t going to turn out well but I knew I had to experience what I did. Something inside of me said I had to do it and told me it was going to hurt. It did hurt. However, it also felt great. I felt a bit of it. I felt the love that people feel when they’re “in love.” After that relationship, I realized that my decision to end it with the fiancée was the correct choice. I did love my former fiancée but I wasn’t in love with him….that’s a major difference, a difference I learned with Earl Gray. Ooooo how the memories are flooding back. The museum conversation about the ex. The Queer Eye for the Single Man episodes. The L word episodes. The bloody mary at brunch conversation. The trips to his parent’s house. For a good long while I mourned Earl Gray. He was a part of me….even if it was just for a few months. I felt more connected with him emotionally than with my 3+ year relationship with the fiancée. I still on occasion mourn Earl Gray. On April 25, 2009, Earl Gray married another woman. Let’s call her Lady Gray. The wedding photos look nice and he looks happy. No one knows that I know the date and have seen the pictures but I do. One good thing to point out is that Earl Gray definitely doesn’t look the same. He is definitely starting to look his age or a lot older. Also, his metabolism sure as heck has slowed down. In any case, I wish Earl Gray tons of love and life. I’m glad he found his match. He deserves to be happy.

om...om.....om....

Om. Om. Om. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe in through the nose, see the air flow from your nostrils down to your lungs and then to the other parts of your body. Please repeat the procedure and don’t let the cramping of your legs bother you. If only I had an endless amount of time to meditate. I would wake up at 4:30 am and meditate for about an hour or two. When the buzzard rings 6:30 onward I go to my morning yoga practice. It’s 7:30 so I must head in the shower. 7:40 get out of the shower and dressed for work. Don’t forget to have breakfast. Finally 8:30 walk out of the door. If only things were like this. I would so love it. Once I would finish with work for the day, I would eat a hearty dinner with at least two servings of vegetables. Following my meal, I would rest for an hour with a good Buddhism book. It’s 8:00pm so it’s time for evening meditation. By 9:00pm I would be done and prepping for bed and the following day. 10pm means lights out. Ahhh…seems so serene.

…. Well that’s my dream.

The reality is that I’m slightly overwhelmed. I’ve decided to postpone my LSATs until June, which apparently is the optimal date to take the exam. I’ve decided to also postpone applications until 2011. However, I’ll still be getting my materials ready. Postponing the LSATs has meant lots of free time and definitely less stress. It’s really expensive to apply for law schools. Now I have more time to focus on my move. Yes I’m moving, again! It’s happening shortly! It was hectic trying to talk with my landlord about my options, looking for a new place, gathering application materials, coming up with the money at such a short notice, and meanwhile try to manage my current bills….and did I mention my sanity? Ugh! It’s been crazy. BUT once I settled on a new place, figured out the logistics to that, and decided to postpone the LSATs things just seemed to flow better. I took a few days off of work to just do nothing. All I really did was yoga. I did as minimal as possible and it was awesome. I still had to deal with little hiccups along the way- my current roommate, money situation, etc. I’m glad most things are resolved. Once I complete the move and things settle down, I’m hoping to continue with things (AKA life).

the elitist in me?

Welcome to the Upper East Side, the home of Manhattan’s elite. :/ It’s lease renewal time. Will I be staying in the hip and trendy East Village or heading on up to the Upper East Side, to the deluxe apartment in the sky? SO my lease is up at the end of November. I’ve had my lease renewal form since late summer but was somehow hoping to muster the courage to ask for a rent reduction. As the eternal procrastinator that I am, I’ve waited to the end of October to ask about it. So far I haven’t been able to contact my landlord. I’ve tried her twice this week and she’s just never in. I’m hoping things work out in my current apartment because I won’t have to provide a security deposit or move. Worst case scenario is that I’d have to move to a different apartment in the same building. However, last night I was looking at apartments and found a really affordable one in the Upper East Side. It’s a studio, which means downsize but it means all me and no roommate. The apartment’s kitchen and bathroom is a little on the small size but that’s to be expected of a studio. On the other hand, the main room fits a queen size bed, desk, dresser, and breakfast bar comfortably with enough room to walk. The closet is a walk-in, which is phenomenal. The rent includes utilities minus wireless. With the move uptown I’d have a few hundred bucks each month instead of a few bucks. The down side is that I’ll have to take the train, which is a good 10-15 minute trek, and have transportation costs. I don’t know what to do. I’m hoping my landlord can work something out. The studio wants immediate occupancy and I can’t afford security and first months. At best what I can do is provide the security and then on the first provide move-in, which I’d probably talk to them about a pro-rated rate for November 15th move-in. Moving is such a hassle. Since the boy drives and has a car, I won’t need to pay for a U-haul or bribe one of my friends to help me move. UGH! The Upper East Side is so pretentious though and so grown-up. Perhaps it’s the move I need….after all this coming Saturday I’m officially a year older. Approaching thirty is no fun but I must grow up. I have grown a lot this year. My priorities have drastically changed and so have my expenses. I now have student loan debt. I can no longer afford to dish out loads on living expenses. My credit card debt won’t go away if I only pay the minimum. College life was great. Having ramen noodles, pizza, and ice cream dinner was great but my metabolism is slowing down drastically. I can no longer eat those for dinner or breakfast, unfortunately. I have to now watch what I eat and make sure I exercise properly. Sleeping in futons is no longer fun. I guess I’m just nearing that point. I have friends who have babies and white-knuckle it to the ‘burbs. City life becomes a distant memory for them and their main priority is providing a loving environment for their little offspring. I’m no where near “Offspringville” but perhaps it’s time to act my age? Perhaps it’s time to embrace my next stage in life. I need more cash, job security, an emergency fund, and to pay down my debt. I’d like to dress better and more mature. If I could survive the quiet town living of London, perhaps the Upper East Side won’t be so bad. :/

cherie!!! cherie!!!

Bonjour Chérie! Comment allez-vous?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live a summer, or two, in France to learn French? Cherie it’d be perfect! It would be like Elizabeth Gilbert in her book Eat, Pray, Love. It would be so, so divine! Although Gilbert learned Italian in Italy, I would learn French in France. The more I think of this idea and compare it to what Gilbert did the more attractive it is sounding. Imagine it cherie, a summer in France learning French, a summer in Italy learning Italian, and a summer in Portugal learning Portuguese. The idea is just phenomenal! Now for the logistics; where am I going to come up with that kind of money and allowed time off? Well, if I get into law school, summers would be off. If I get into the Teaching Fellows, summers would be off. So that sort of solves the summers issue but what about the monetary issue? It’d be more wonderful to just travel, travel, and travel all over the world for a year or two. Teach English here and there; learning foreign customs and languages. I’d be a whole new individual with a bunch of new experiences to share. This is a new dream. I’m writing it down in the book. I want to travel. A year of traveling won’t do, it’d have to be about two and a half. Within those two plus years, I want to visit all seven continents, visit the major oceans, and travel to both poles and the equator. Yes, this is my new dream/goal. I will do it. I will accomplish it. I like, no love, this new dream of mine.

LSAT

Law School Admissions Test- To be among the best, the elite of the elite, you have to score the best. Perfection is mandatory on this examination that is supposed to test your logical and analytical thinking. As imperative as it is to score the highest, I’m not looking for a perfect score. I’m looking to score just above average. Unfortunately, my undergraduate GPA is atrocious at best and law schools wouldn’t look at me twice. The only option I have to make them look is to score really, really high on the LSATs. I will be one of tens of thousands applying for about one hundred or so positions for the Fall 2010 entering class. My pursuit is no small feat but it is definitely not an impossible feat. With my relentless spirit, I know I can do it. Despite the immense task that lies ahead of me, I think the most arduous battle I’ll be fighting is with my self-defeating self. Yes, with myself. Fighting the negative demon that lies within me is by far the greatest challenge I will ever face. It is this specific demon that comes out in the most inopportune times. It wants me to be complacent. It wants me to obey and fully succumb to it. I struggle daily to keep it at bay. Unfortunately, not every day is a good day and it has the best of me. For now I shall take baby steps. I feel as if I take smaller steps the demon won’t notice much movement. It will continue to believe that I am in full cooperation of its commands. Slowly, very slowly, I will come out from under its brutal, forceful grip. Those sharpened talons can’t hold me forever.

oh what a morning

I’m feeling rather bland and bleh this morning. It didn’t help one bit that I arrived late to work; technically, not really, more or less on the dot, 9:30. Worst of all, my boss was already here. Normally she strolls in closer to 10am and I don’t feel so bad about arriving at 9:20 or 9:26. Well, what am I going to do now? It’s over. I guess I better put the pedal to the metal and get actual work done today, so as to distract from my “tardiness.” Besides my not-so-good morning, I’m feeling rather broke. I look at all these gorgeous women around me, wearing the latest fashion trends or at least clothes that don’t have holes, stains or fuzz balls because they are so old. And then I take one good look at me. How many years ago did I buy this top? Does it really fit anymore? Doesn’t its discoloration tell me something? Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about that; for now all I can do is drool over store windows. Ugh. It is definitely not a morning sunshine day. I could definitely use a pick-me-up or Stacey London and Clinton with their five thousand dollar Bank of America gift card. Well best get back to work….thought writing would help….not so much.

what would be your first reaction?

Let’s imagine for a few seconds that you were told you were endowed a trust fund, how different would your life be? My first response to this question would be utter relief. I’d be swept away with an abundance of calmness. I’d feel like I can finally exhale. I’d feel as everything would be A OK. Although I’d be given this trust fund, I wouldn’t quit my job. I like my job, plus a little extra income wouldn’t hurt either. After being given this trust fund, my first stops would be to Kate Spade, BCBG, Channel, and Intermix for a wardrobe update. Hey…if I’m going to be a trust fund baby, I have to look the part. Once I’ve spent a good amount shopping, I’d have to book a top notch hair appointment. I don’t mean get the more expensive treatment at the same 20-30 dollar Jane. I would book an appointment at a top stylist in New York. So, that’s clothes and hair. Next order of business is a much deserved day at the spa. They’d give me the total work up; the massage, the full body wax, the nails, the pedicure, and whatever other weird treatment is hot right now. Shopping for shoes and handbags would be a special day of its own. I love shoes. One of my first shoe purchases would be these Gucci shoes I’ve always wanted. And, what trust fund baby wouldn’t look great in Louboutin’s? Hmm….to continue on the path to my new look, I’d have to fly in my favorite gay from Ann Arbor. He’s drop dead gorgeous and is definitely more fashionable than I am. Once I’ve book us a suite at the plaza, we’d probably want to catch a play or two. The following day we’ll finally see some ballet and opera. Life would seem right. It would seem more breathable. Hmmm….now that I think about it, I should probably take some time off to process my new found wealth; a trip around the world would be just right. During my year off, I’d plan my re-entrance into the world. My confidence would definitely be through the roof but I feel as if I would also be humble about my wealth. I wouldn’t go throwing it in people’s faces; most likely, I’d still be the same girl…just a heck-of-a-lot better dressed. I know this money won’t bring me happiness but I feel as it would breathe air back into me. My lungs would probably fill up like a balloon. My stress levels would decrease. My life would be a lot riskier. Once my trust fund is safely in the bank, I would pursue my dreams without any hesitation. I wouldn’t feel failure (or maybe not as much) and I definitely wouldn’t feel strapped for cash. So…a recap: a whole new wardrobe (which would be well over due considering my clothes are so outdated), a new purses and shoes wardrobe, weekly appointments at a top notch hair salon, a new apartment at a doorman building (I’ll be thinking about purchasing it), a round the world trip, and a new bold image. This bold image would allow me to seek my wildest dreams; to dream bigger. The bold image would allow me to finally take all the risks I’ve always wanted to. Ironically, I feel as if I’d also be lonelier. For some reason, I’ve always equated wealth with loneliness. I always thought that the better off you were, the more people would despise you; the more people would want to take you down. I’m sure with wealth you also get a new batch of friends but would they really be friends? I feel as if money attracts fake people. These fake people only want you to keep spending. They want you to treat them really nice by spending money on them. It’s as if your money would rub off on them, or the very least they can take it from you. Hmmm….at first the trust fund would bring me fresh breathe, some joy, but then it would stress me out. I’d be stressed about people trying to take it from me or people just pretending to be my friend because I have it. Perhaps Paris Hilton was never my BFF as she claimed?

are you a human being?

ChupaChups needs to free herself from the hold of the masses. The masses are brainwashed. They follow whatever they are told to follow. Eat, sleep, wear, do, and breathe whatever they are told to. They are human doings instead of human beings. No questions are necessary. No real reasons are given. I’m exhausted of being part of the masses. They drive me insane following a culture that doesn’t respect them; little do they know that they have an immense power, at least this is what I believe. I believe that the masses harness this great power; this great force that they are unaware of. I further believe that a few have broken away from the masses and realized the lucrative career that can come from controlling the masses. As long as they follow the rules to controlling the masses, the masses won’t know what’s happening. I may sound like a conspiracy theorist or an anarchist but the evidence is just too overwhelming to ignore. Trained as anthropologist and a media major, I just can’t help but analyze, and some times overanalyze, my surroundings. The masses make my skin crawl. I sometimes feel as if they deserve it. Why don’t you question things? Why don’t you want specific reasons for things? Why do you think you stuff yourself, work your body to exhaustion, and continue to devalue yourself and your efforts as not enough? Whose opinion do you follow? One of my biggest pet peeves is the celebrity culture. Here the masses pedestal these few individuals that “made it” to the big screen. Everything they say, do or wear is later imitated by you; you the person who placed them where they are, who has the power to bring them down or raise their star farther up. Whatever happened to praising scientists and people who actually work to make the world a better place? The soldiers who fight wars, the peace keepers who try to maintain peace and the doctors who save lives….you know…the real people. I bet you most people know more about Britney Spears and Paris Hilton than they do about world history or global warming. Ridiculous! It’s completely ridiculous that Americans know more about Michael Jackson than they do about their own constitutional rights or the three branches of government.

oh suzy q, where are you?

Let’s see. Hmm… So 2009 has been somewhat of a productive and progressive year. I’ve given up meat, liquor, and have pledged to living a healthier lifestyle. Unfortunately, it’s tough. I’m weighing in as “clinically overweight.” Yes, you’ve heard correctly. I am “clinically overweight.” At my five foot one stature and weighing over one hundred and twenty pounds, I am overweight. I need to lose weight. It’s unfortunate that my size two and four jeans are considered overweight for me. It’s a damn right shame that I feel normal. A semi-plus result of my recent weight gain is that my boobs have also grown. So….a free boob job? It’s a pain really…carrying this excess weight. Feeling as if I gain one more pound or one more inch around my waist that I’ll be at serious risk of diabetes (which runs in my family) and heart issues. It’s even more of a shocker because I grew up an athlete and I still like to maintain a somewhat active lifestyle. Oh how I miss the days when I used to eat Suzy Qs without any consequences; the days when my diet consisted mostly of potato chips, soda, and sleep. Now I have to actually put in some effort. I have to make an effort to eat healthier. I have to make an effort to put on appropriate clothes. Although my job I feel is a major contributor to my lackadaisical clothing choices they can’t take all the blame. It’s my responsibility what goes in my mouth and what goes on my body. I need to take better care of myself. Now I know why old people need to be extra careful when they walk. I seriously could never truly understand why they were always breaking their bones. It’s not like they were doing 360s or something of that nature. In any case, a new lifestyle has been adopted; going back to my old behaviors will only be detrimental to me. 2009 has also brought up some mama-drama. Oh lord, am I 17 again? Clearly not if I can’t lose this weight. So same mama-drama issues only now I’m a full grown adult and she has no legal control over me. She can send in as many cops as she wants, and she has sent over two in my short life, but I will not budge. I’m a grown up now biatch! Respect!

to the walking dead

Dear Walking Dead:

I understand the job isn’t as fulfilling as you would’ve hoped it would be. I understand we aren’t the loudest or most active bunch during the day, but please pep up your step. You are dragging me down. As I see you walk to and from the bathroom, I just feel like shooting pellets at you. Isn’t your boss the Popper of Hips? He would be disgraced if he saw what came out of his department; his hips wouldn’t pop as much if he knew. Please pep up your step, Walking Dead. I get crept out seeing you walk. It’s like you have no purpose of being. Sometimes I feel like running up to you and just shaking you. Shaking you so hard you would wake up. As if your morbid walk isn’t bad enough, it seems you have to walk back and forth at least twice an hour. Seriously what are you doing in that bathroom? Clearly you aren’t in a rush to pee, so what is it? God have I told you how much I want to shoot pellets at you, Walking Dead? Why do you walk so slowly? WHY? Are you about a hundred and fifty years old? Can’t you physically walk any faster? I hear your office back there have push-up competitions, so what’s wrong with you? WALK! Walk faster! Walk as if someone is shooting at you. Walk as if I’m shooting pellets at you! PEP UP THAT STEP! How’s about we walk at normal speed for one day! One darn day!

Best Regards,

Dashing Diva at the Desk

musically defined

3:00pm on a Friday afternoon on a hot July day in the year 2009 and I can confidentially say that I can define myself musically; i.e., I know what my musical tastes are and what my musical persona is. Yes, you’ve heard correctly. I can define myself musically. I like Sia, Fiest, Coldplay, Jem, Natalie Imbruglia, Dido, Bitter:Sweet, Massive Attack, Plumb, and similar artists. I can easily define my musical tastes. I know what I prefer to listen to and what I’m most attracted to. However, I cannot say the same for everything else in my life. With music, I can clearly define myself; with other things in life, I simply can’t. I am, however, grateful that I can clearly define myself in at least one aspect of my life. For years now I’ve been struggling with my sense of self; trying to define who and what I stand for, what person I want to portray to the world, and what person I want to show to my friends. For now I’m content with knowing what I like musically. God this feels like such an achievement. Slowly, but surely, I am getting there. One baby step at a time.

make-up?

For about two years now music has been an integral part of my life. I groove to it. I dance to it. I bop my head to it in the streets, at work, and in class. What is it about music that has finally affected me? Is it the lyrics? Is it the melody? I find myself discovering a new world through old country classics such as Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, and Johnny Cash. For a while Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell were my groove. I’m slowly beginning to define myself through music. I’m a fan of Diana Krall, Michael Buble, Dean Martin, Ray LaMontagne, and the like. I think my musical classification is folk, jazz, blues, Motown, and country. Ironically, most of the music I listen to seems pretty much the same. They are mellow, relaxing, and soothing beats. They are by no means back that ass up and show me what you are working with. Although I do enjoy pop and electronic beats such as The Ting Tings, The Fratellis, and Sara Barellis. Besides my new found life through music, I am also discovering an 11-year-old girl who is learning about make-up. She doesn’t know what anything is called but she wants to play with all the color palettes. For now she is content with looking as natural as possible. She does not appreciate clown make-up foundation; actually she does not appreciate any foundation. She loves playing up her eyes. She loves the drama she can create or the subtleness of a little mascara. Unfortunately, color lipstick is so not her thing either. Her teeth look weird. As any new beginner, she feels shy and embarrassed to ask the sales associate for help. Make-up sales associates are rather knowledgeable in their fields, so she feels like they won’t have any patience for her. They start throwing words at her that she feels she should get a dictionary to understand. For some reason the sales associates don’t understand the minimalist inside this 11-year-old girl. The 11-year-old girl has discovered that make-up has common color bases. They either appear yellow, peach/rosey, green, glittery or matte. She doesn’t like any of these. She just wants enhancements to her beautiful look, blemishes and all.

morning commute

As I walk to work this morning, I notice familiar faces and garbs. It’s the same (more or less) young girls with their hairs tied up and the nude colored tights underneath their shorts. Ballerinas! The only difference with this morning is that I finally decide to question it. Why am I seeing so many ballerinas throughout the city? And every day! Yes, I see ballerinas throughout the city. I have no clue what they are doing but this morning I’m intrigued. I know of one studio location because I see a line wrapping around the block almost every morning; but every morning? I don’t get it. Why are there so many ballerinas this summer? Is there some sort of American Ballerina Idol training going on? Who knows but I’m intrigued. Have you ever walked through Union Square where the Farmer’s Market should be on a Tuesday and/or Thursday and noticed how big the area is? Have you ever noticed that it could be a scene in a movie? Have you ever noticed that as in many movies it is a perfect scene for a shootout? I guess it reminds me of the movie where the Russians or whoever they are is chasing this guy....what's the name of that movie...or other movies that have scenes in parks that when the pigeons fly away in a hurry you know there is going to be trouble. In any case, this is my morning commute. On certain days, it does involve quite a handful of hooting and hollering from construction workers; but, ironically, when I finally decide to take a stand and report these people to the construction companies, the workers just seem to stop. Oh well. On this very special morning, with all the roaming ballerinas, I got a panic attack, or several little ones. Out of the blue, the shortness of breath begins. I feel anxious, scared, and hopeless. My eyes begin to tear up and I can’t stop. I try to calm myself by thinking of beautiful gardens but it doesn’t help. I go into the City Chow café and finally reach some serenity. The cashier asks if I want my corn muffin toasted. The question at the moment seemed odd to me. Corn muffins are eaten toasted? I never heard of such a thing. Well, I have heard of such a thing, I just haven’t seen anyone eat one like that in years or even mention it. I guess the regular cashier saw the confused look on my face and rushed to aid her colleague. She packed my muffin as I normally like it. I paid my bill. Off I went. As I step outside into the cruel New York City streets, the panic attack commences. I thought I was over this. Obviously I wasn’t. I try to calm myself once again, and again, nothing happened. I’m now at the lobby elevators. The panic is still there. I reach the office. The panic is still there. I get to my desk. The panic begins to subside. I turn on my computer. The panic is still there. I go to the bathroom to wash myself. The panic begins to go away.

snotty I am not your mommy

For someone who is constantly complaining, whining, and stressing over having nothing to do or not knowing what to do, I sure do sign up for a lot of crap. Ok, so it is not crap, it’s volunteering. Just this afternoon I signed up for a reminder for the NYC Teaching Fellows program, Big Brothers Big Sisters, and sent an email for some rape advocacy group in Chicago. Did I also mention that I sent out emails to various dig archaeologists? I did. I’m all over the map. However, when it comes time to show up I totally freeze. I feel overwhelmed. I’m always like crap…when am I ever going to find time to view my General Hospital. Oh well…I guess this is for the best. After all I seriously have spent months and months just watching TV. Besides it’s not like General Hospital is going to go off the air and as if I don’t DVR it. Yup. So that’s where I’m at. I’m always out to help others and sometimes feel too overwhelmed. I should slow down but I can’t. I need it. I need to feel useful. I feel as if I’ve retired. Nothing truly motivates me. I don’t want some snot-faced kid to call me mommy and I don’t want some tub-o-lard calling me his wife. Yuck. I grimace at the thought. Anywho…that’s my stance for now. Hmmmm seems hypocritical of me to not want some kid call me mommy and volunteer to be a Big Sister. 

:/

Who’s been a raging B (and that with a capital B) lately? I HAVE! For some unknown reason, I’ve been the biggest B to my friend who’s only been nice to me; even my roommate is getting the silent treatment. It seems everything these two individuals do irritates the crap out of me. From the way they sit on a couch to the way they dress, nothing seems to get approval from me. I refuse to believe it’s my period causing all this rage inside of me---but one must wonder.

Here I sit at my desk on yet another Thursday morning. Trying to figure out if I’m meant to be here or searching for polar bears at the poles. For now I’m fine with the sugarless oatmeal I just ate and the carrot I’m about to eat.

To switch matters a bit, I’m reading a book- Confederacy of Dunces—about a guy named Ignatius P. Reilly and all I can say is that that guy is super annoying. (Even a character in a fiction book is annoying me!) He treats his momma like crap and worse of all is another momma’s boy. He’s thirty years old, graduated from graduate school, held a job for about two weeks once, and now is safely at home living with his momma. He has no ambition to ever move out or get married. Hmm….I wonder why a grown “man” living at home with his momma irritates me. Oh I don’t know…could it be my fatal attraction to them. Yuck. Can I ever escape momma’s boys?

what an emotional rollercoaster.

I cannot believe how much you irritate me. EVERYTHING you do seems to just get a rise out of me. Whether I’m trying my hardest to be polite or whether I flat out don’t care you just irritate me. I don’t know what or why it is, it just is. From your mindless conversations to you’re your little mannerisms, everything you do just seems to irritate me. I try and pray my hardest to be nice to you and not be all mean but you just get it out of me. I’m extra sarcastic and sometimes I look down on you. I run my mouth off about how much I can’t stand you but act like a hypocrite when I invite you to events. I don’t mean to be this way and I honestly don’t know why I’m this way. The only thing I can remember is when I dated someone in the summer of 2007 where I sort of acted in the same fashion. I couldn’t stomach to kiss that one, so at least you are light years ahead of that one. What do I do? Do I cut you off? I feel like I should just let you be. I feel as if I’ve stripped you down to an empty shell of yourself. I feel horrible when you try to make contact and I pull away. I know that you are this affectionate individual; an individual who likes to be touchy-touchy, someone who like caress at every second of the day….I’m not. I especially get bothered when people try to touch me in the summer. When I’m out having fun, I don’t want to be touched. I just want to dance and enjoy conversation. I feel and know that you need human contact. Unfortunately I can never give you what you want. I feel badly that I restrict you in certain ways. I don’t want to. I think it’s best if I don’t continue to poison you any more. Yes, you say you love hanging out with me…that you love just being around me. I sometimes hate that. At first I agreed because I saw no harm in that but now I sing a different tune. Sometimes I feel you like the plague that just won’t go away. Sometimes your chivalrous acts make it hard for me to be “mean” and make me feel as a big a-hole. Last night I was tired of standing and you looked around the room for a chair I can sit on. God, why do I feel this way? It feels like a hate filled emotional rollercoaster. One minute I like you and the other minute I just can’t stomach you. I know that what is down on paper isn’t what I want but some little acts you do are sweet and my attitude towards you shifts a little. This is never going anywhere far, of that I am sure of, but what do I do in the interim?

don't mistake me

Obviously you must have me mistaken for someone who cares; someone who gives a damn (hmmm…this is starting to sound like the song). I don’t care about your day at work. I could care less about your boss’ illness or love life. Do I care that her son likes to pretend he is a superhero by wearing a brown paper bag? Heck NO! He’s probably got a mental retardation and needs to have it checked out. (I’m definitely kidding about this. No offense.) I don’t care about your business venture and I especially don’t care about the mundane things you tell me; for example, your workout routine at the gym, what you had for lunch, what you ate for dinner. Get it?! Talk to me about something interesting. Talk to me about the world. Talk to me about ancient history, today’s politics or the latest indie flick you saw. PLEASE don’t talk to me about your mother, your sleeping patterns, how lovely you think the rain is or whatever mundane thing you want to talk with me about. Yes, I understand that you are a decades older than I am but just because you are older doesn’t mean you know everything. It especially doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. I know how to pitch a tent, start a fire, and spread a ready-made fudge mixture into a pan….for goodness sake. What, do you think I can’t read? If I don’t know something, I can definitely figure it out. I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! If I ask for it, by all means do what you can. However, don’t believe me as inept as to not know anything. Thank you!

conversations that persist in my head

So I finally wake up after setting up five different alarms. I do my morning meditation, shower, eat breakfast, and continue with my morning routines of checking email and seeing what occurred while I was sleeping on Facebook. The good thing about having friends all over the world and in different time zones is that when you wake up to check your Facebook page, they would have already done something with their days. Onward I move with my morning. Since I woke up before 7:30 this morning, I was expecting to leave at roughly 8:30. Sadly this wasn’t the case because I left after 9am. Thankfully my employer allows us until 9:30 to be in. So as I’m walking over to work, late and all, I start thinking about random things, as is always the case when I walk. The first thing I start arguing (yes because I can’t have a nice delightful conversation with myself) about is Verizon versus Time Warner Cable. I’m upset that I’m stuck with effing Time Warner. Seeing as Verizon FiOs has infected Manhattan, I was thinking that finally I can switch over, which is so not the case. The only thing Verizon has to offer me is DirectTV- satellite. Unfortunately, I’ve tried satellite before and it definitely won’t work with my current location anymore. I’ve resigned to this fact for years now. Still I don’t get how I still can’t get FiOs. Anyway…the gods that be must not like FiOs for me. Once I’ve reached Union Square I start thinking about that a-hole who ditched me with a massive bill and a difficult financial situation. I mean the only person I should be mad at really is myself because he did the exact same thing before. I knew what I was getting into and I had faith that he wouldn’t screw me over. Luckily for me he could care less and still screwed me over. From what I gathered from the Facebook world, he and his boyfriend are soon flying off to Iceland. How effing nice?! You ditch me with all this crap and you fly off to Iceland. As I pass the soon-to-be Pret-a-Manager (or however you spell it), I start thinking about my not-so-great financial situation. I can manage but I can’t breathe, especially not take big gulps. My friends in London want me to visit but with the summer prices there is no way I can afford it. I’m stuck being a responsible, practical adult now; an adult that sees everything in a dark, dark financial light; one that feels constrained to stay put because she can’t do a darn thing. Hmmph!

arch nemesis

She returns. The arch nemesis returns. She doesn’t know she’s my arch nemesis and neither does anyone else for that matter. BUT she is. She’s the one girl in my high school who always got better grades than I did, had better looks than I had, was just a bit more popular than I was. UGH! Did I hate it when I got an 88 and she got a 90 on an exam. EVERYthing it seemed, she did better than I did. Now our fates meet again. This Saturday she’s going to be celebrating her birthday- even her birthday is earlier than mine…jeez. I know I shouldn’t attend, especially with this mindset but I can’t help it. I want to leave work to go shopping this very minute. I already know what expensive shows I should wear and exactly the kind of outfit I want to sport. I want to look drop dead gorgeous. I want her to see that I’m SO much more awesome than she is. I mean, I sort of already win because she has a kid- OR did I? Anyway….I want to look Maxim model gorgeous. Hmmm…I think I know the exact person for the job in that area. PERFECT! Gosh I’m so devilish. Alright…so the nemesis. She freaking stole my “most unique” title in high school…and she even had the nerve to steal my crown at prom. What was I? RUNNER UP! RUNNER UP! RUNNER UP! I want my big crown dammit!

oh yersh she did go there.

When it’s hysterical, it is most certainly historical. For weeks now I’ve been moping around. Wondering what has come of my life and what I should do next. I sat idly by. I pushed my fake boyfriend away. I hid behind books, unwashed hair, and dreary dark clothes. Nothing on me looked like Mary Effing Sunshine or Pollyanna. I was just a sulky sulk. However, it all changed last night. After I went on a tirade about life and not sticking to me like glue, I felt somewhat relieved. I felt like I had let out the negative; of course, the fake boyfriend didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of it but it was definitely necessary. I feel so light, airy even. I even feel like stalking my fake boyfriend. How should I go about this? First we have Facebook….then we can try to crack the code of his voicemail…if I knew his email I could do that as well.  Happy and Stalking about!

and scene

Scene: About five people are standing around a narrow corridor in an East Village apartment building putting on their sneakers and saying goodbye to one another.

Me: Hey! How’s it going? You feeling OK?
Boy: Yeah. I’m feeling a bit hung over but I’m definitely glad I stopped by tonight.
Me: I’m definitely glad you came by. It’s so good to see you.
Boy: You rushing off?
Me: Um. Not really. I can stay for a few minutes.
Boy: OK. Cool. Mind waiting for me?
Me: Sure.

Me makes a phone call to her friend who is waiting for her at the movie theater to let him know she’s on her way. Boy returns about five minutes later.

Boy: You ready?
Me: Yup. Let’s go.
Boy: So. How are you?
Me: I’m alright. Feeling a bit lost now that my school work is done with.
Boy: You were finishing up your masters, correct?
Me: Yup.

The conversation carries on mundanely until they reach the train station entrance. At which point Boy asks Me if she has any plans for the night. Me says she is on her way to meet a friend at the movie theater. Boy asks if she can spare five minutes to sit at Washington Square Park. Me says OK…because five minutes is all she can spare. The enter the park and stop for a few seconds to admire the blues band playing.

Blues band playing in the background.

Boy: You want to sit over at these benches.
Me: Sure.
Boy: Cool. Washington Square Park is my favorite park. You can find the oddest things here and yet have an amazing time. During the summer there’s always a band playing and people just hanging out.
Me: Yeah I know. I like it as well. Hate the rats at night but like the park otherwise.

Girl smiles. Awkward moment ensues. Smaller talk is had. Moments of silence. Me feels uncomfortable because she doesn’t know what to expect and is running a tad late now.

Me: I’ve got to go in five minutes.
Boy: Can I put my arm around you in these last five minutes?
Me: Um. Why?!
Boy: Um. Um. Nevermind.

An even more awkward moment ensues. Me tries to lighten the mood by making a joke that goes sour.

Me: You ready to go?
Boy: OK.
Me: So you like living in Inwood now?
Boy: Yeah. Ever since I moved back in with my mom I’ve been able to focus on a lot of editing and camera work.
Me (thinking how in the world do these mama’s boys find me): Oh that’s good.

They part ways at 6th Avenue and just as Me’s friend calls her to ask where she is at.

Scene close.

what am i to do

When things are meant to be for me I get really excited. I can’t do anything but think about that thing that is causing my excitement. My inner child is placated. She feels at peace. She is content and feels as if she’s on the right path. On the other hand, when I am doing things that are no what I’m supposed to be doing. I feel horrible; I doddle. I act like a bumbling brook. Things don’t get done as quickly and everything seems to go array. Right now I’m stuck between a few things. One is an invitation to lay on a beach in lovely Mexico, the other is to do something big for the fourth of July weekend, and the last my summer euro trips. As it stands, I’m most excited about the euro trip. I get to see some good friends. I get to travel cheaply from country to country. I get to enjoy my life peacefully. Mexico seems OK and I did want to do a nice relaxing beach vacation next but…. I don’t know what to do. Oh yeah…and what happened to my economic hardships? Traveling is definitely not a sign of a person under an economic hardship. Ha. I don’t know how I do it sometimes but traveling for me comes easily. I make it happen…just as the saying goes…where there is a will, there’s a way…and I always make it a way. Berlin, Stockholm, and London are calling me. Ha. Mexico seems like it would be a kill drag. Fourth of July is always fun. What to do. What to do.

a personal ad?

I absolutely love a good laugh. The harder and longer I can laugh the better; I want to be crying with tears of laughter. Whether it is because I’ve slipped on a banana peel or you ran into a glass door. God (or the divine powers that be) knows this about me. Check this out.

Last night a bunch of us met at our usual spot to chat and catch up but when we got to the gate it was locked. We didn’t know what to do so we called people to see if they knew anything about this gate. No one knew what was happening so someone thought it a bright idea to just hop over the gate. Seeing as we tried several avenues beforehand, we thought a little breaking and entry wouldn’t be so bad. So after a few of us hopped over the fence, someone thought it another bright idea to have chairs help the others climb over. Now we are all at the spot and notice a rather disturbing smell. Actually it was so strong that I don’t know how we didn’t smell it from the outside. As we look closer it was buckets upon buckets of sauerkraut. Sauerkraut! BUCKET LOADS of SAUERKRAUT! Who eats all that sauerkraut! The smell was so pungent that I don’t know how we stayed the whole time. In any case, as we were getting ready to leave two Ukrainian women come in steaming mad. Yelling god knows what in Ukrainian. Although I’m pretty sure they were cursing us out. One woman even proceeded to slam one of the chairs we had to help us over the gate on the floor. We didn’t know what to do so we quietly crept out…only this time using the gate instead of hopping it over. Oh brother. Ha. First the gate followed by the buckets of sauerkraut then the screaming Ukrainian women. Hahah. What a night! I love that the powers that be always provide me with one great chuckle each day. I think I could live happily ever after if I just had one good chuck a day. :D

as fleeting as time is

What if several doctors diagnosed you with an incurable disease that only left with six months to live, what would you do with your dissipating time? Would you spend it with your loved ones? Would you finally get the courage to kiss that girl? Would you end your life now instead of having it drag on for months? Would saving for a rainy day even matter anymore? Currently there are 245 days 14 hours 53 mins and 47 seconds left in my time zone –EST and I plan to use them all up. Who knows what I’ll be doing but I know I’m definitely going to be doing them now. A good friend of mine, due to her recent layoff, decided to travel India for 6 months. She’s been on a holy journey of self discovery. I hope she truly finds herself and her passions. As for me, will it be a religious Mecca to India? Is traveling the desert more my style? Is living it up in the lap of luxury what I should be doing instead? I’m chasing dreams for the next 245 days 14 hours 50 mins and 33 seconds. I’m going to make sure I live like I only have six months to live because in the end do we really know how long we’ve got until it’s time to meet our maker. Below are a few of the things I’m planning on doing for the rest of my six months.

1- Join a protest and/or a picket line
2- Travel to the ends of the Earth
3- Trek the Amazon
4- Become closer to a spiritual being

rapunzel! rapunzel! rapunzel!!!!

I have not deceived and yet I feel as if I have woven a very tangled web. In the midst of all my regular life stressors, I have managed to weave two love webs. Although I did not plan for any of them to happen, they have. Oh if there was only something I could do to magically wish them away. Poof be gone life stressor; poof, poof be gone individual who is too afraid to live without his mother; poof, poof, poof slobbery kisser individual; poof, poof, poof, poof, poof, poof, poof individuals who want me to give them my undivided attention. Where can I find the blue flying unicorn in the sky that can fly me off to the most remote places on Earth? Does the leprechaun know how to get to the desert? Is the wood nymph equipped for the arctic? Who among my fury and cutesy imagined creatures can I call upon to take me sailing through the seven seas? Oh Rapunzel, do you need company up in your tower?

what now charlie brown?

Whaw whaaw whawong whaw whawah wha is exactly what I hear when you speak. Wha whahwong whahah waong. It’s almost as if I was in an episode of Charlie Brown. Your stories are repetitive so I zone out. I don’t miss much that I know for sure. Even if you are sharing something new, I zone out. When you are sharing something personal or whatever it may be and the TV is on, please be aware that I am completely focused on the tube not you. Doesn’t my lack of eye contact give you signals that you are boring me? Isn’t my silence over the phone enough to tell you to pep up the speech? When you have something intelligible and intelligent to say, please do wake me up from my slumber. At this point, I could care less about your redecorating or your prospective business ventures. Obviously you were absent the day they taught your boys’ class how NOT to get a girl into bed with you. So for future reference, when trying to get a girl to sleep with you, don’t talk about your ex, your medical conditions as a child, your lighting venture or your mother. These topics will surely get you a thanks for playing and do be sure to pick up your consolation prize, a few more sexless years, when you leave. Next contestant!

from the same litter

When my siblings and I turned eighteen at our respective times, we each moved out of out my mother’s house. We were legal under the eyes of the New York State law so we took it upon ourselves and our new found independence to take a hold of our lives. We’ve all managed to survive and live independently on our own. None of us have returned to the nest. We are more or less happy with our respective lives and our freedom. We’re adults and know that as such we have to do these adult things such as rent or own our own apartment, buy furnishings, start families, etc. Yet I don’t fully comprehend how I end up dating guys that live with their mothers or grandparents. Seriously! Out of the guys I’ve dated about 70% of them were still living at home with mommy. I don’t get it. My siblings and I got the memo: get out! We heard the message loud and clear. So why are these blokes still living at home? Why am I bringing this up? Well I met a rather attractive guy about three weeks ago who seemed promising. We were hot and heavy the night we met. We continued the flirtation. Everything seemed to be going fine- of course, my mind had the best of me and I swore he was married with kids. So because I have such inquisitive mind, I kept trying to pry his life out of him. I knew something was off. It had to be. Yeah he was rather on the short side but that’s not why he was single, was it? I swore it was the wife and kids. So…. Last night I figured out why. He still lives at home with mommy! Yeah that’s why you are SO single mister. He’s 39! 39! At that age you should be living by yourself if not with roommates at least, not living with mommy. Yeah I know…perhaps the economy made him go back to live with mommy but I so doubt that’s the case. Ha. This is my beautiful luck. Seriously how do I attract these people? It may seem all shallow but it really isn’t. At age 39 you should be living either alone or with roommates. Ugh! I’m not shallow but if I can do it so can you. SO CAN YOU!

sleep, must sleep

It’s almost over soon. The paper is due tomorrow and I have quite a bit of editing to do. Although I’m still working on it until the second it’s due, I am very proud of myself for having “finished” it early. Gosh it was definitely a long, long journey. Hopefully my efforts pay off. Right now I feel as if I’m in the state of almost reaching sanity or at least numbness. I’m hoping to have the last three energy drinks I’ll have for at least three months. Hmph. This is so draining. Work eight hours, write/edit a paper for about 6-8 hours, and attempt to sleep the other eight…not to mention the time it takes me to commute to work, coffee houses, and home….by the end of it I’m lucky if I can get 5 hours of sleep. You know what though, despite all the stress and bitching, I like being like this…under pressure, having something to do. It makes me feel like I’m not just wasting my life away.

Hence why my new goal is to submit a 32-page paper to the AAAs by June 1.Hey the winning prize is 1k and you may get published. YES I’m Insane.

to the popper of hips

Pop, pop, pop, pop. Pop those hips side to side. Move your short legs as fast as you can but continue to pop, pop, pop, pop those hips. See the swing. It’s more mesmerizing than my own feminine walk. You’re in a festive mood today wearing the emerald green. I can just picture you later on tonight having pints of Guinness and car bombs in celebration of ol’ St. Pats. The definition of your upper body is spectacular. It doesn’t at all lead to speculations of you somewhat having a slightly lower self-esteem because of your height. Your charms are endearing, your smile is as bright as any sunshine, and your kindness breathless. So continue to pop, pop, pop, pop those hips. No they don’t make you seems the slightest bit gay. Pop, pop, pop, pop. Pop those hips side to side. I say these things purely out of love. There is no malice in any of my words. Pop, pop, pop, pop those hips.

I definitely drove a 16-wheeler straight into a brick wall and continued to press hard on the gas.

What a weekend! Still unsure whether it was a good or bad one but one thing I know is that I did a lot of “bad” things. I’ll start off with the Wednesday night/Thursday morning slobbery kiss I shared with the coworker. Who now I’m sort of on the fence with because I just don’t know what I’m doing. Sunday came around and he did check-in to see if I wanted to meet up with him. I, of course, being the nut job that I am avoided it like the plague. In all fairness though I do have to write this paper and I did attempt really hard to do it on Sunday-hmmm possibly as a way of avoidance? In any case, Friday was also a memorable occasion. After the let’s do Sunday brunch email I went on a destructive rampage. I met an ex near Times Square and proceeded to make out with him a little. After the rendezvous with the ex, I was within the hour lip-locked to some perfect stranger who I ended up kissing the entire night. We pretended to be boyfriend and girlfriend and are still in this game, or at least I thought it was a game. On Saturday we fully “committed” to one another by changing our Facebook status. I was hysterical on the floor with laughter. Still in joke mode I asked him to a Sunday birthday dinner I had to attend. He showed up like the good boyfriend and proceeded to be romantical. It FREAKED me out! I’m still freaked out. He kept holding my hands, which became really sweaty at some point, holding chairs, doors, feeding me cake, etc. Who does he think he is??! A real boyfriend?! Um, I don’t do that sir. So now the joke is on me because I used the pretend boyfriend to sort of avoid the coworker and now I’m in a “committed” relationship that is going to led me to being committed. He texts me when he goes to bed, when he gets home, about random stuff…omg.

sunday brunch anyone?

What’s in a kiss? I’d say about a thousand words. Kissing is essential for me. It provides me with a vast knowledge of that individual. Through the act of kissing I can figure out if that person is affectionate, a quick Eddy or a slob/drool-fest. I kid you not my dear friend. This very act alone speaks quite loudly. I am by no means an expert in it or judging it, but my intermediate skills have gotten me this far and I know they don’t mislead. Why bring up such a topic? Well I “kissed” a boy. His kiss spoke a thousand words. It informed me that he was the combination of a slob-fest and a quick Eddy. My suspicions were later confirmed that day. Unfortunately after knowing this fact I keep going back and forth in my head: do I want to kiss this person again; do I show them how I would like to be kissed? Ugh! It’s definitely too much for me to decide while all these things are going on around me. Why couldn’t he know by now how to do it? He’s survived on this planet for the better of three decades. You’d think that by know you should be an expert on the subject. Oh blorgs! This is such an uncomfortable predicament I’m in. He’s invited me to Sunday brunch and I’m not sure whether to attend or not. I’m always up for brunch and I’m especially always up for food, but am I up for a slob sandwich? Only the future/god knows what it has in store for me. Hmph!

drama rama

Where can I begin? I know let’s start with academics. So on the 27th my 3,000 word (about 10-12 pages) essay is due. How many words do I have written down thus far? Besides the title, I can confidently say not a damn one. I need to get going on this seriously. Unfortunately life is always getting in the way one way or another. I have been doing research for it but as of late (particularly this week) I have not done one single thing. I did speak with my Brit friend Matt about it and I sort of have a better perspective on it. I seriously need to get down to organizing myself better for this and the impending April exam. I am so, SO, SO grateful the exam for me will be in a day instead of two or three hours. Ugh. Don’t get me started on that one too. How much have I studied for that? Absolutely nothing. I need to get down to what’s important and this is very, very important, especially after all the money I dished out.

Speaking of money, my income tax refund is set to come in tomorrow. Hopefully I won’t get audited. You can never be too careful with these things. I just don’t want to completely get my hopes up with this money. BUT if all goes well. I was going to split the money; half is going into debt and the other half is all for me! So, I was either going to go on a little shopping spree and save the rest but now I’m thinking I want to spend it on a new notebook. My old computer is getting kind of old. OR I can do a bit of traveling. I did see a great deal for Nashville at under $300 for both hotel and flight. Also, I want to go to this festival that is happening in Ann Arbor the first weekend in April. Not to mention I told my friend I would go with her to Vegas at the end of April. BUT in all fairness, Nashville was going to be my reward for finishing the essay. I never did treat myself for finishing my dissertation in time. Again, this is another area I need further organizing.

Remember how I said that life always intervenes whenever I’m working on an important paper for school? Well again I’m in the middle of finding a new roommate. I guess it just senses these things. I finally asked the roommate to leave but little did I know that the guy would find a place in a week. I barely have two darn people to come check out the place. UGH this is so stressful. So….if I can’t find someone relatively quick all those lovely plans of travel and purchasing the macbook will go up in smoke. I really do pray to god that things work out very well in this area, especially with this bad economy.

Oh yeah the bad economy…. Four people got laid off this morning from my job. I was scared and still am quite a bit. These were definitely out-of-left-field layoffs. No one expected these…although I did have some suspicions after one of the girls who got laid off updated her status on Facebook. (Great invention, no?) So I’m scared because I have no money. What I do know is that I for sure have to step-up my employment game and seriously look for a part-time gig at least. Oh these troubled times we live in.

Ah…trouble you say. How’s about a fresh new stalker for you? That’s right a stalker returns. If only I were kidding but I kid you not. One of the biggest stockers of the company returned a few days ago and who does he ask for? Why me of course? Great! Now people are going to think I’m associated with him.

Speaking of those lovely associations, how’s about a fresh new coworker for you? That’s right the coworker is back. We saw Coraline last night and had drinks afterwards. Well you should know how the story ends. Now I’m in limbo. I can’t be dating a coworker. We’ve definitely crossed the point of no return. What happens now? Are we dating? Oh brother! What’s going to happen now at work? Do we discuss this? Oh crap! This is why I stayed far away from the dating scene. Oh my goodness, my Guiness.

Guiness anyone? An old chap from England moved back to New York. I’m super excited to see him and super curious as to why he returned. From my understanding of things, he wanted to attend graduated school over there. He had been there about five years and wanted to get out of the town he was living in and move to London. Anywho I guess we can discuss that over drinks because my social schedule has seriously doubled. Oh what a girl to do.

Indeed, what am I to do? I think a good organization is definitely needed. After that I’ll figure it out as I go.

ode to nick

Nick. What an Adonis you are. Your boyish smile is both innocent and flirtatious. Your blonde locks are like a sea of gold. Your eyes are as deep and profound as the deepest ocean. The collared shirts you wear fit you so snug that your bulging biceps have no choice but to play peek-a-boo with me. Have I mentioned how your apple bottom is tempting me to bite it? Did I ever share with you that the way you sit in your chair just screams jump on my lap? Your delectable aroma is so strong it reaches me from a distance of ten feet. Have I ever told you that you are an Adonis? I will forever keep you on a pedestal and compare every guy to you. No one will come close. Oh how I envy your boyfriend and the gorgeous couple you two must make. Oh if only god had granted me a penis. Does anyone have a spare penis for me? Until I can acquire such an organ, I will forever hold you in my heart. Nick you are my Adonis! You are my Adonis!

financial responsibility

Part of being an adult is being financially responsible. Adults pay their bills on time, know how to manage their money, and for the most part, are money smart or conscientious. As many adults, I have my money faults. I do have debt (credit card and student loans) and have barely anything in savings. However, I still manage to pay my important bills (e.g., rent, student loans, and credit cards) on time. I know that if I don’t pay these bills on time I would be in a financial hole I would be struggling to pull myself out of. These bills are a must for me. The cell phone and gym bills are just extras I can do without. My paychecks are properly allocated into these three major bills. The first paycheck goes to student loans and/or credit card payment and the second to the landlord. Whatever is left over from these two biweekly paychecks gets allocated to the next important bills and food/laundry. I adhere to these payment methods like if they were my bible. I try my hardest to have all my bills paid on time. If money is tight then I’ll be having lots of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or ramen noodles. So, why in god’s green earth does my roommate, who is older than me, not know how things work? I’m barely three or four years younger than he is. He should have more experience being an adult than me. I guess I shouldn’t blame it all on him, after all I knew what I was getting myself into. He was in serious debt to our friend while they lived together and barely paid his portion of the bills. These past few months has got to be the biggest life lessons I have learned. I am truly grateful for every bit of knowledge. They are definitely hard to learn but by golly miss dolly I am learning.

good question

While watching the Matchmaker Millionaire on Bravo (I know, complete waste of time, but I had time to kill), a very powerful and intriguing question kept popping up: why are you still single? Obviously a millionaire should have no trouble finding a partner, let alone a date, but these ill-fated millionaires have a lackluster love life compared to their bank accounts. After getting a good look at these millionaires, you could clearly see why they are still single and looking. About half are “players” fooling themselves with the notion of finally settling down, while the others are almost complete dorks stuck in cyberspace. (NB: Although the millionaires are self-proclaimed “players,” there is nothing about them that truly screams a “player.” In fact, I would just call them dorks who think they are players or pretend to be a part of the “in” crowd.) After seeing a couple of episodes (yes, I’ve wasted that much time), I can confidently say that the show is, what can I say, pure crap. It’s like Match.com on television. Out of the episodes I’ve seen, barely any of the dates have a successful second date. I would say that maybe one of these millionaires has formed a couple with their date. Overall, I would say that this show is almost a complete waste of time. (I say “almost” because if you are desperately looking for something to do or see, you can definitely count on this show to waste away precious moments of time/life.)

Although my commentary on the show is a bit negative it did promote somewhat of a productive and constructive train-of-thought. Why am I still single? Why am I not a pair-bond with a male (or even a female)? Is it perhaps that I refer to relationships/couples in their anthropological term of pair-bonds? Anthropologically speaking, a female with an hourglass figure and a low waist-to-hip ratio should be an attractive mate for a male, so why am I still single? I am young, have an hourglass figure with a low waist-to-hip ratio, well-educated, employed, and my skin, for the most part, indicates that my genes are good enough to fend off parasites. Hmmm…. So the question still persists, why am I still single? Could I be the plague of humanity? Am I not what the media portrays as an attractive female? Should I allocate more of my time into ensuring I fulfill the media’s stereotype of the ideal partner? Who knows why I’m still single. Perhaps it is all the boy gay clubs I frequent. Oh well, I’m still single because I can be. I am not going to settle for anything just to be involved in a pair-bond. I would much rather live my life as a single person than be in a bad, life-draining pair-bond.

oblivious to the gun shot wound apparently

OK, so a girl has asked you twice to her place, you’ve slept over said place once and in the same bed as the girl (who was sleeping in her bra and yoga capris), and you still don’t make any real moves?! Are we serious here people? Honestly, were you just born or something?! Aren’t these clear cut signs that said girl is interested and giving you all the green lights? Perhaps I’m just fooling myself or whatever but this is seriously bonkers. The boy shows hints, the girl reciprocates, and the flow continues. Have I got it down or not? I’m moving on here. This is so not what I want to do. It’s completely crazy. I’m not going to throw myself at someone- at least not any more. He’s probably going to need to get hit by a speeding train to realize what’s happening. UGH! Boys! What idiots! I’m hanging up my stilettos on this one. Obviously, he’s just not that into me. Bleh.

bras and under things

Women have the unfortunate curse of having to cover up their private parts. Society tells us we have to wear bras, underwear and close our legs while wearing a skirt. I say a big FU to that but I still adhere to the rules set. Like a “good and decent lady” last night I went out and actually bought a bra. It’s not like I’ve never purchased one before, it’s just that this time I actually purchased one. Not some dinky bra that was on clearance but an actual full price bra. (Full price of anything gives me hives but for society I paid up.) The saleswoman brought me an array of bras; padded, unpadded, push-up, t-shirts, etc. I didn’t even know that so many names for bras existed besides push-up and grandma looking ones. I must’ve tried on at least thirty pairs before I picked two that fit and looked really good. As a matter of fact, today I decided to try on one of those babies. I’m currently wearing a t-shirt bra. It isn’t at all what I expected. I actually feel “picked up” and cushioned; almost as if I could chest bump the wall and not feel a thing. This bra is amazing. Boob a and boob b have never felt more comfortable than they do now, and even my back feels really supported. Although wearing this bra has been a pleasurable experience, I doubt I’ll ever and I mean ever purchase a bra full price. For the price of the two bras I got last night I could’ve purchased some nice shoes; shoot even a pair of jeans would’ve been cheaper. For now I’ll just take it as a win-win situation and an experience I had to have.

bleh

While I am still fed up with being here and would love nothing more than to just leave, I have to admit that I am in somewhat better spirits, much to my great disappointment. I would have much rather liked to have been brooding and hating everything for days but alas we cannot have everything we want. Coming to work and from what I gather just normal/random life circumstances have caused me to “cheer” up and go about my business. I am still going to hate on everything but I guess not so much anymore.

…

I’ve been “blocking” Chris from seeing me on MSN. So far, I haven’t had the urge to contact him and he hasn’t really thought of contacting me in other forms, e.g., email, or Myspace; not that I would know seeing as I barely check that account. However, after about a week or two of near perfect no-contact, yesterday I decided to unblock myself. Big mistake that was, or least I thought so at first. Seeing as my evilness was going away, the little MSN chat with him was exactly what I needed to get back into my bad mood. But all good (or bad) things came to an end when interacting with a coworker. I started to laugh again. Bleh. It was going so well. I was going to slip back into it and then that happened. GRRRR. Oh well I guess it’s for the best.

can i go now?

I’ve died. Once again my soul and humanness has died. Life is once again not pleasurable. I’m tired of being here. If I wasn’t so scared of injuring myself and living in limbo, I’d probably not exist physically anymore. I have absolutely nothing to continue for. I’ve been in this state for 15 years now. I’m tired and don’t want to be here anymore. Yes the human world has its perks but they don’t outweigh the bad. I feel my soul increasingly grow darker every hour. Nothing inspires me to continue. This world fascinates me but it also gives me great sorrow and pain. At this point I would have to say that I am a passive suicidal person. I can’t do it but do sometimes fantasize about my life in another plane. Religion, therapists, and people can’t save me. I’ve been waiting for my death for over a decade now. I’m tired of waiting. I don’t see what else I have left to do here. I thought I fulfilled my path but apparently I have loose ends to tie up. I want to leave. I want to go. I don’t want to be here. No I am not depressed, I just don’t want to be here.

Cleanliness is next to godliness

I’m sure that the saying “cleanliness is next to godliness” is nothing more than a wives’ tale used to scare people into being neat and tidy. Well apparently nobody explained this saying to my roommate and his girlfriend. Who knows which one is more disgusting but what I know for sure is that they both deserve each other. Obviously they both missed the cleanliness train. First the girlfriend leaves her used tampon on the bathroom floor, miles from the trash bin. Second the boy (who is my actual roommate but you wouldn’t know it considering the girlfriend practically lives there) loves to cook and bake but has no appreciation for cleaning up after himself. It is almost nearly a week since he baked his “magical” brownies but you wouldn’t have guessed it by the looks of the kitchen. It seems like a tornado hit the kitchen. Whenever he cooks/bakes he has this tendency to use up every available space and leave every piece of garbage out on the counter top. Not only does he need the kitchen to cook but he also requires the living room because apparently the kitchen is just way too small for him. Now, the straw that broke the camel’s back, one of those two tarts left a big, disgusting shit pile in the toilet with wads of toilet paper. I was utterly disgusted. When I do my business in the bathroom, I always see to it that it is as neat and clean as when I went in it. I ALWAYS FLUSH! If the toilet bowl is clogged, I make sure to unclog it. It is no ones responsibility but my own. My mother, grandmother, aunt, and the rest of my family taught me this. You clean up after yourself. You don’t leave puddles of water after you shower, you mop the bathroom up. When you use a dish, you clean it once you are done and put it back. Your room has to be somewhat tidy and your bed almost always made. These were just a few simple lessons I learned growing up. Most of my friends adhere to these rules. There is no need for a handbook on how to be an adult (although I would totally love one). Shoot every Saturday morning my mom had us cleaning the whole entire house, even the walls! I was always stuck on bathroom duty and eventually I loved it. The house was spic and span on weekends. During the weekdays my chore was always to clean the dishes after dinner. Since my sisters did all the cooking, I always thought I had it easy. I’m sure that I wasn’t the only with chores growing up. So why on god’s green earth are these two shit bags one of the most disgustingest people in the world! WHY! I’m not a neat freak nor am I truly an OCD person. I’m more or less neat but by no means am I a dirty individual. I understand the laziness involved with not wanting to do the dishes right away, so I completely understand and won’t complain if they are there for three to four days- tops. UGH disgusting, utterly disgusting.

PS the toilet bowl looked almost identical to the picture. YUCK!

Thanks goodness for Ms. Janis Joplin in the morning or I’d be a total nut bag.

school closing

Did you know there are tons of free podcasts out there? All are mostly rubbish but yet I still bother to subscribe and listen to them. I thought it would be a good idea to listen to a French language podcast or a stopping procrastination podcast but I just seem not to pay attention to it. I guess that’s a good sign because it means I’m actually focusing on work, but am I really focusing when I’m constantly subscribing to crappier podcasts?

…..

So what’s been happening in my world? My high school is closing down. Apparently not enough students are enrolling and only 33% of students are actually graduating. Not to mention that out of those that do enroll about half (my estimate) drop out. So due to its dismal attendance and its graduation rate, the board of education for the state has decided to close it down. They informed the councilperson for that district the very same day the public was informed. Now the councilperson is fighting to keep the school open. I mean I completely understand and am well aware of how bad that school is, but is closing down a school the best solution? Their intentions are to close down the school and divide it into three separate schools. Since they claim enrollment has dropped, isn’t overcrowding not the biggest issue? You’d think the board of education would come up with better ideas than closing down a school. I mean I’m no fan of public schools, but I survived them. I know there’s goodness there if someone, anybody, even bothered to look or pay attention to. They blame the school’s failure on the minorities attending it. They claim that English is a second language for most students attending and that that’s their biggest problem. Well I did attend and graduate from the school within four years and English was definitely not my second language. I know I was bilingual (and now multilingual) but that didn’t hinder me from completing my necessary coursework.

sickness

These past two nights have been hellish. Every two seconds I cough and cough. It isn’t until about three or four in the morning when the coughing stops and I can sleep for thirty minutes at a time. I’ve been taking Theraflu, Alka Seltzer Cold, and Motrin and nothing seems to work. Theraflu is the only thing that seems to work best. I’m just tired of all this. I don’t want to stop working out or going about my life just because of a cold. Bleh…so corny to stop just because of a cold.

My financial situation is dire. For the past few months, I’ve been flat broke. Moving back to the states and having to pay the full rent of the apartment took a lot out of me, not to mention that I didn’t have much to begin with because I hadn’t worked all year. Slowly I’m recuperating but definitely not fast enough. I am definitely grateful that by some miracle of god I’ve been surviving. I already paid C more than half of what I owed her and I have the rest in my checking account just waiting for her. That by far was one of my biggest concerns. She just had a beautiful baby girl and I didn’t want her to stress too much about money. I know it isn’t my complete responsibility but I did owe her the security deposit, which is something she is most likely going to need soon. So now that she is all squared away I have to put back J’s security deposit. Apparently I have a thing for security deposits. The good thing about J’s security deposit is that it is totally doable in about two to three paychecks. After I’m done with him it is onwards to tackle the credit card bill. Because I’ve been flat broke having to pay back C and whatever bill popped I’ve had no cash for anything; so this past month I’ve had to live on my credit card. It sucks but I had no other option. Considering that I still have a job and some sort of “security” I’m pretty much ok with having to live on my credit card. After all, most of America (and the world) is having financial difficulties and is caring some sort of debt.

I’m managing. There are times when I just want to cry and then there are times when I’m ready to battle anything. For now it is just one day at a time.

girls mafia?

Cough, cough, cough, runny nose, and more coughing- this seems to be my existence for the past few days. I’m a germ infested human. My voice is raspy and I’m losing weight. YEAH! Don’t we all just love being sick? It is by far one of the best diets in the world.

Party for 15? Thanks. Right this way, please. Yes, we had a party of 15 last night. Fifteen women sat around a round table and ate Vietnamese food. Since it was such a large gathering, subgroups of four at a time would hold conversations. It was by far one of the most interesting dinners I have had in a long time. First, I was like one of the only four people with dark hair. The majority of the women were blonde. Second, I was one of possibly (because one I just couldn’t tell) three non-white women at the table. Third, I was more or less the only one clueless as to how the gathering was going to turn out. It seems that these women meet up about once or twice every few weeks to enjoy dinners or other events out. When I first heard about it I thought it would be so cool. It seemed to be Sex and the City in nature but what happened last night was not. It seemed more like an office dinner than anything else. I was expecting some mafiaesque type of business to go down. Although now that I’m writing about this I’m beginning to wonder if Sex and the City implanted this desire to have mafiaesque type of girls club. I certainly think it would be cool, especially consider that I’m a nonfeminist feminist (yeah I don’t even know what that means). Oh well….guess now I shall use my super cyber skills to look for these types of clubs…after all they have them for men. Why not women?

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