Chupa Chups

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. 