The move has been....rough....to say the least. (Soul crushing?) But in this instance, I have absolutely zero interest in talking about it, so here instead is a (mildly) amusing story that has nothing to do with the joke/shitshow that is my life.
Back in grad school, we had the pleasure of collaborating alongside a lady who was by no means famous, but working steadily in the film industry - on films we'd heard of! She was very cool, fun and we learned a lot from her.
But the strange thing was....she had no last name.
At first we thought she was just not telling us, being silly. Everyone has a last name, we insisted. She said she had, but not anymore. She had legally changed her name to have no last name. I'm sure documents of any importance were just a bitch now, but obviously it mattered enough to her to go through with the change. Now she was just one name...and showed us her various forms of ID to prove it.
Instead of quieting us down, it only fanned the flames of curiosity. WHAT HAD HER LAST NAME BEEN? What could be so terrible that she would forsake having any last name just to be free of the burden?? The guesses ran wild (and largely puerile)...
"McFarts"
"Buttinsky"
"Cocksackie"
And so on and so forth. You get the idea.
Then one of our usually outspoken classmates -who had been unusually quiet - piped up.
"There's only one thing it can be."
We waited eagerly. He enjoyed the suspense. Theatre people. You know.
"Don't you see? What's the one last name in the world that everyone recognizes and reviles?"
"McFarts" (I insisted)
"No. Guys." said the outspoken one. "Her last name was obviously Hitler."
And the room fell silent. Our mouths fell open.
"Oh my God."
And we left it at that. Thought it was never confirmed, from then on we just thought of her as Miss Hitler. Awesome, easygoing, fun Miss Hitler.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Oscars & The Week Ahead
Work today is all about the Oscars!! How great is that?! It's fun. It's silly. I enjoy it.
Having stayed up to watch all fouryears hours of the show, I have a few thoughts/feelings (as did everyone else on every social media outlet in the world.)
*Seth Macfarlane wasn't a bad host. The gig is such a double edged sword. We're all prepared to draw blood at the first joke that doesn't land. In spite of the fact that the opening monologue was WAY too long and the boobs song was abysmal, he seemed to be having a good time, and a lot of the jokes landed. Oddly, he's a dead ringer in both looks and voice for P, so that made watching at times enormously weird and uncomfortable for me, but that's my own problem. So yes, if you've ever wondered what my ex-boyfriend looks/sounds like, imagine a slightly skinnier, even more neurotic, blonde Seth Macfarlane and you've nailed it).
*Christoph Waltz is so oddly cute. He's charming as hell.
*Bond tribute felt kind of mediocre. But it was great to see Shirley Bassey kicking ass and taking names. I love her. All gold and sassy and Welsh and fierce as hell. Yes, girl. Yes.
*Charlize and Channing dancing together was really lovely. Unexpectedly elegant and classy. Nice to recall they both really can move quite well. Also, I believe Charlize Theron is the most beautiful woman on earth. She looked incredible. Like some kind of badass goddess.
*The Sound of Music - where are the Von Trapps? - joke is the ONLY time I have ever laughed out loud during the Oscars! And I laughed a whole lot. It was perfect. So much credit to whoever wrote that joke, and much respect to Macfarlane on the delivery. Absolutely dead on.
*Anne Hathaway: I'm a bit torn. She gave a great performance in the film. I know she was a lock to win. SHE knows she was a lock to win. And she wasn't as irritating as she's been in the past. But I found her lackluster pink dress (reminiscent of the lackluster pink dress Gwyneth Paltrow wore for her win) and her creepily whispering "it came true" to the statue kind of odd. Oh well. But...if you know you're a lock to win....pick a better dress. Seriously. This is the moment to nail it.
*I just want to hug Ang Lee. He's so great. He's the most versatile director working AND he seems like a lovely guy. Go Ang!
*And of course....Jennifer Lawrence. She was beautiful and charming and funny and cool, everything we've come to expect from her. So she tripped and fell. In front of a billion people. But instead of melting down, she laughed and kept her spirits up. Well done, miss. Well handled. 10,000 extra points to Hugh Jackman for being the very definition of chivalry and being the first man to step to her aid. Also, Jennifer wishing happy birthday to Emanuelle Riva during her acceptance speech was pure class. I can't wait for the next Hunger Games ad campaign, which will most certainly feature a push with "Academy Award Winner Jennifer Lawrence." I cheer for her, loudly and often.
So that's my Oscars wrap up. A fun year indeed.
Today, for me, begins moving week. Picked up the keys to my new place this morning, and the relocation itself starts tomorrow. Lots of work to do. My lunch hour will be spent running prep and errands! Not much sleep on the docket this week, I think. But it's moving forward. Letting go of a lot of old crap and starting something new. It's falling down and remembering the most important part is, in fact, to get up again.
Having stayed up to watch all four
*Seth Macfarlane wasn't a bad host. The gig is such a double edged sword. We're all prepared to draw blood at the first joke that doesn't land. In spite of the fact that the opening monologue was WAY too long and the boobs song was abysmal, he seemed to be having a good time, and a lot of the jokes landed. Oddly, he's a dead ringer in both looks and voice for P, so that made watching at times enormously weird and uncomfortable for me, but that's my own problem. So yes, if you've ever wondered what my ex-boyfriend looks/sounds like, imagine a slightly skinnier, even more neurotic, blonde Seth Macfarlane and you've nailed it).
*Christoph Waltz is so oddly cute. He's charming as hell.
*Bond tribute felt kind of mediocre. But it was great to see Shirley Bassey kicking ass and taking names. I love her. All gold and sassy and Welsh and fierce as hell. Yes, girl. Yes.
*Charlize and Channing dancing together was really lovely. Unexpectedly elegant and classy. Nice to recall they both really can move quite well. Also, I believe Charlize Theron is the most beautiful woman on earth. She looked incredible. Like some kind of badass goddess.
*The Sound of Music - where are the Von Trapps? - joke is the ONLY time I have ever laughed out loud during the Oscars! And I laughed a whole lot. It was perfect. So much credit to whoever wrote that joke, and much respect to Macfarlane on the delivery. Absolutely dead on.
*Anne Hathaway: I'm a bit torn. She gave a great performance in the film. I know she was a lock to win. SHE knows she was a lock to win. And she wasn't as irritating as she's been in the past. But I found her lackluster pink dress (reminiscent of the lackluster pink dress Gwyneth Paltrow wore for her win) and her creepily whispering "it came true" to the statue kind of odd. Oh well. But...if you know you're a lock to win....pick a better dress. Seriously. This is the moment to nail it.
*I just want to hug Ang Lee. He's so great. He's the most versatile director working AND he seems like a lovely guy. Go Ang!
*And of course....Jennifer Lawrence. She was beautiful and charming and funny and cool, everything we've come to expect from her. So she tripped and fell. In front of a billion people. But instead of melting down, she laughed and kept her spirits up. Well done, miss. Well handled. 10,000 extra points to Hugh Jackman for being the very definition of chivalry and being the first man to step to her aid. Also, Jennifer wishing happy birthday to Emanuelle Riva during her acceptance speech was pure class. I can't wait for the next Hunger Games ad campaign, which will most certainly feature a push with "Academy Award Winner Jennifer Lawrence." I cheer for her, loudly and often.
So that's my Oscars wrap up. A fun year indeed.
Today, for me, begins moving week. Picked up the keys to my new place this morning, and the relocation itself starts tomorrow. Lots of work to do. My lunch hour will be spent running prep and errands! Not much sleep on the docket this week, I think. But it's moving forward. Letting go of a lot of old crap and starting something new. It's falling down and remembering the most important part is, in fact, to get up again.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Everything is RED
I found this Valentine after I'd already posted that slew of great ones on the day itself. It's a perfect mash-up of obsession with X-Men (check) and unleashed rage (check). Basically, it's like a custom love note to the world, from me. Behold...
My shit is in SHAMBLES, SON. One of my very best sistafriends, knows most of the foolishness that is passing for my life these days and could only basically gawk at me and yell, “WHAT THE FUCK” in response.
Anyway, my shit is all fucked up.
But I’m Unfucking My Life one day at a time and although it absolutely terrifying, it's, like, good. Like really good. There is still a lot of pain and immeasurable sadness for the life I thought I would lead but I’m excited for this chapter and pretty fricking certain that this is truly for the greatest good.
I can see clearly that ultimately I am going to have the life I’ve always wanted to lead, but this time I gonna have to be an active participant in getting it. So right now, I’m focusing on finding the whys, learning about the whats, and figuring out the hows of how the fuck did SistaTV end up right where she is right now. Cause I’m not EVER going back.
I admire SistaTv's spirit of optimism. I'm not at her point of "feeling this is for the greatest good" or "knowing I will have the life I've always wanted" but I'm glad she is, and maybe I can be there myself someday. My life is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like I wanted it to be. Batting zero. But perhaps, with moving to new places, culling friendships and cultivating experiences, I can also learn to find the whys, know the whats and figure out how the fuck I got here, because I too, am never going back.
I feel like the sentiment of this picture should be read whilst screaming:
ROSES ARE RED!!!
VIOLETS ARE RED!!
EVERYTHING IS RED!!!!
(xoxox, Cyclops)
Ignoring the slight hiccup of facts - Violets are...uh, violet - it's a pretty great picture. The drawer not only did a bang-up job on the X-Men uniform, but managed to capture the angry soul of the character through a simple unhappy face. EPIC. Five stars.
I wonder if this picture isn't wonderful/hilarious to you if you haven't been depressed. If you don't go through extensive periods of time when all you see is the anger of red.
The good news, friendly readers, is that I am 95% secured towards a new home. It is small, safe, and most importantly affordable. I can handle a year there. I pick up the keys Monday - hopefully. I say all of this because I am waiting for the inevitable catastrophe. The other shoe hovers above my head like the lone storm cloud following the cartoon character.
I was writing to M about how I was feeling and one thing has become painfully clear. My trust mechanism is broken. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the person to leave. For everything to hit the fan. I expect it, yet am still crushed when it happens. P used to say this about me all the time - he said "you always pull away first because you're waiting to be left. You think nothing lasts." I told him I loved him and had no intention of pulling away.
Then he promptly up and left me. Exceptionally cruel trick, if you ask me.
(Oh God. The Smiths "How Soon Is Now?' just came up on Pandora. Why Pandora? I'm already sad)
Yes, I still think frequently of P. A year on. But I think moving out of the current neighborhood will help with that, considering he works around the corner from my current apartment. Nothing inhibits forgetting someone like knowing where they are for 40 hours a week. New place. New start.
What I will miss
Hiking Central Park most weekends
The Natural History Museum
How incredible the neighborhood architecture is
Having K nearby for shenanigans
What I won't miss
Knowing P is around the corner and constant fear of seeing him
How the apartment feels right now
4 flights of stairs
I was reading xojane this morning, and saw these words from SistaTv (yes)...
My shit is in SHAMBLES, SON. One of my very best sistafriends, knows most of the foolishness that is passing for my life these days and could only basically gawk at me and yell, “WHAT THE FUCK” in response.
Anyway, my shit is all fucked up.
But I’m Unfucking My Life one day at a time and although it absolutely terrifying, it's, like, good. Like really good. There is still a lot of pain and immeasurable sadness for the life I thought I would lead but I’m excited for this chapter and pretty fricking certain that this is truly for the greatest good.
I can see clearly that ultimately I am going to have the life I’ve always wanted to lead, but this time I gonna have to be an active participant in getting it. So right now, I’m focusing on finding the whys, learning about the whats, and figuring out the hows of how the fuck did SistaTV end up right where she is right now. Cause I’m not EVER going back.
I admire SistaTv's spirit of optimism. I'm not at her point of "feeling this is for the greatest good" or "knowing I will have the life I've always wanted" but I'm glad she is, and maybe I can be there myself someday. My life is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like I wanted it to be. Batting zero. But perhaps, with moving to new places, culling friendships and cultivating experiences, I can also learn to find the whys, know the whats and figure out how the fuck I got here, because I too, am never going back.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Put On An Honest Face
Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Never one to actually enjoy the musical Bye Bye Birdie (because it sucks and it's creepy) I don't enjoy that song. Give me "Fake Your Way to the Top" from Dreamgirls any day - now that's a real toe-tapper. But the gist of the two numbers is the same - fake your way through unpleasant situations, and eventually you'll come out the other side of happiness and success!
What did you do this weekend? I hid at my dear and patient friend's house in Bushwick, while my soon-to-be-ex roommate and her mother packed up her possessions. I wasn't asked to leave, but I thought it prudent to stay out of the way, especially as we aren't speaking. It's already awkward and miserable in my own home that I also pay for but I'd rather leave than put on a face pretending everything is OK. Because it's not. And I'm done. What caused that, you might say? Where did this great revelation come from? Oh, it was when I realized that this move is putting me about three grand in debt. SUPER! I can't pretend anymore that I'm fine and everything will work out.
This time it won't. I have lost my friendship and my home. I am heartbroken, shattered and angry. I have had more panic attacks in the last three weeks than I've had in my entire life. And plastering a weak smile onto my face isn't going to change any of that.
I'm not Hulked-out all the time (because that would be even uglier and scarier than my regular face) but I'm trying to put on an honest face. I'm exhausted. I'm worried. I'm scared. It shows in my face, and that's fine. It's truth, and I'm not hiding it to protect feelings. Maybe if I'd thought less about protecting other people's feelings and more worried about protecting myself, this wouldn't have happened. But it did.
Next week I will live somewhere else. I am hopefully signing for a cute, safe, small place in Brooklyn today or tomorrow. It's in a great neighborhood, and very affordable. Once I get settled, I'll be able to slowly start paying back my debts. Life will move on, with lots of changes, and I'm sure even more on the horizon. Getting through yet another debacle, with the help of my family and true friends. Growing up, as I've done it, really does transform you. Birthday to birthday, calendar year and on. Even month-to-month. Older. Wiser? Sharper. Less trusting. More angry. But still here.
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
(Only Coco can show us how fake happy faces really are. You go Coco. You go.)
Never one to actually enjoy the musical Bye Bye Birdie (because it sucks and it's creepy) I don't enjoy that song. Give me "Fake Your Way to the Top" from Dreamgirls any day - now that's a real toe-tapper. But the gist of the two numbers is the same - fake your way through unpleasant situations, and eventually you'll come out the other side of happiness and success!
What did you do this weekend? I hid at my dear and patient friend's house in Bushwick, while my soon-to-be-ex roommate and her mother packed up her possessions. I wasn't asked to leave, but I thought it prudent to stay out of the way, especially as we aren't speaking. It's already awkward and miserable in my own home that I also pay for but I'd rather leave than put on a face pretending everything is OK. Because it's not. And I'm done. What caused that, you might say? Where did this great revelation come from? Oh, it was when I realized that this move is putting me about three grand in debt. SUPER! I can't pretend anymore that I'm fine and everything will work out.
This time it won't. I have lost my friendship and my home. I am heartbroken, shattered and angry. I have had more panic attacks in the last three weeks than I've had in my entire life. And plastering a weak smile onto my face isn't going to change any of that.
I'm not Hulked-out all the time (because that would be even uglier and scarier than my regular face) but I'm trying to put on an honest face. I'm exhausted. I'm worried. I'm scared. It shows in my face, and that's fine. It's truth, and I'm not hiding it to protect feelings. Maybe if I'd thought less about protecting other people's feelings and more worried about protecting myself, this wouldn't have happened. But it did.
Next week I will live somewhere else. I am hopefully signing for a cute, safe, small place in Brooklyn today or tomorrow. It's in a great neighborhood, and very affordable. Once I get settled, I'll be able to slowly start paying back my debts. Life will move on, with lots of changes, and I'm sure even more on the horizon. Getting through yet another debacle, with the help of my family and true friends. Growing up, as I've done it, really does transform you. Birthday to birthday, calendar year and on. Even month-to-month. Older. Wiser? Sharper. Less trusting. More angry. But still here.
Friday, February 15, 2013
What Happened Yesterday
Surprisingly enough, yesterday's disaster of a day had absolutely NOTHING to do with Valentine's day. Which is such a bummer, because it was obvious to anyone who looked me in the eye that I'd been sobbing, and I'm sure coworkers thought I just gotten broken up with or something - just another sad girl in a red dress - when in reality I finally got sick of everything and lost it. LOST. IT. I still feel pretty desolate. It's hard to keep calm and carry on when you'd rather gas yourself and be done with it. I have well meaning friends and family who are making Herculean efforts to make things seem like they'll be all right, but it sure as fuck doesn't feel like there's any light at the end of the tunnel, anytime soon. *sad trombone noise*
I backed out of the Brooklyn apartment, after some additional research (bedbugs! neighborhood drug problems!) and a last-minute visit (filthy! not secure! gross old men and crazy weed smell!) caused me to absolutely lose it and decide to walk away. I was really scared that I was either going to be stuck living in a less-than-great place (which I initially agreed to because it didn't seem terrible and it was cheap) or lose $1000 that I cannot simply throw away. Thankfully, the landlord was a good guy, to whom I spoke honestly about my concerns, and gave me my deposit back. Big thumbs up for not losing the money. Big thumbs down for being back at square one with just under two weeks to go until I'm kicked out. I HATE apartment hunting. It is the absolute worst. Maybe it would be awesome if I had lots of money (I'm pretty sure everything would be more awesome if I had lots of money, because I stand by the statement that money can in fact buy happiness) but I don't.
(Yesterday felt like this. On repeat.)
I backed out of the Brooklyn apartment, after some additional research (bedbugs! neighborhood drug problems!) and a last-minute visit (filthy! not secure! gross old men and crazy weed smell!) caused me to absolutely lose it and decide to walk away. I was really scared that I was either going to be stuck living in a less-than-great place (which I initially agreed to because it didn't seem terrible and it was cheap) or lose $1000 that I cannot simply throw away. Thankfully, the landlord was a good guy, to whom I spoke honestly about my concerns, and gave me my deposit back. Big thumbs up for not losing the money. Big thumbs down for being back at square one with just under two weeks to go until I'm kicked out. I HATE apartment hunting. It is the absolute worst. Maybe it would be awesome if I had lots of money (I'm pretty sure everything would be more awesome if I had lots of money, because I stand by the statement that money can in fact buy happiness) but I don't.
(My life in Gif form: Oh you dancin'? You think you'll be OK? Fuck you. TRUCK.)
(And I'm just like "Enough, already. Please. I need you to stop.")
Stay tuned for further adventures/disasters/my name in police blotters.....
Thursday, February 14, 2013
All the Best Valentines...For You! xoxo
Here's the best of the web....
(If being Batgirl didn't work out, being Rainbow Brite was a close 2nd.)
And finally, my absolute favorite...
(I WANTED TO BE BATGIRL WHEN I GREW UP.)
(If being Batgirl didn't work out, being Rainbow Brite was a close 2nd.)
And finally, my absolute favorite...
Happy Valentine's Day from My Cold Dead Heart
Thank you, Phil C. for this most amazing thing. But in all truth, I hope you have a really wonderful day. Me? I'm having a massive meltdown over the fact that I might not have a place to live after all. Either that or it's actually the worst place ever. Freaking out.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
I'm The Worst, And It Is What It Is
I was hanging out the other night with two dear friends and their tiny fluffy baby kitten (!) and after catching them up on my life, and listening to what was new with them, I sat quietly mesmerized by the cuteness of the fur ball. One asked how my family was doing, and I admitted:
"Honestly, I'm so wrapped up in my own stupid life right now, I don't know."
I am the worst. I am honest, but I'm the worst. I've been so melting-down, self-involved, financial freak-outs McGee that I don't really know how the most important people in my life are doing. I know that my mom has loaned me money neither of us really has to spare in order to finance this move. (With the return of my deposit, plus my tax refunds, I will be able to pay her back in full, but still....being 30 years old and having to do this is humiliating. The extra kick in the shins is that I was getting ready to start saving.....for the move I thought was happening in September) I know my brother is always ready to talk, and supports my decisions. We talk on the phone a few times a week. They're there for me. I just wish I was something other than an emotional and financial drain right now. I'm definitely the character who is getting, brutally, constantly stuffed when trying to select my breakfast cereal.
It's the same with friends. I have very little idea what's going on. People have been great - lots of support and help. Offers to move. Drinks bought. I see it all and it's appreciated. I had a guest in town from the UK, a trip that had been planned for months before all this happened. But then....instead of taking her out for fun girlie nights on the town, I dragged her to the outer boroughs to look at apartments with me. This is not the type of hospitality I like to show guests, especially ones who've come so far. She was really understanding, but again....massive failure on my part.
It's been about three weeks since this whole thing started - not a long stretch of time by any means, but enough that I feel sufficiently fried. My mind isn't here. It's calculating and re-calculating to see if I can make all my payments on time. It's working on the logistics of the move. It's hoping I have enough money to buy a metrocard and some groceries. And it's still reeling at the fact that I've lost my home and my friendship there so unexpectedly. I'm sorry If I haven't been here, or haven't been paying attention to what's going on with you. This won't last forever. It can't.
"Honestly, I'm so wrapped up in my own stupid life right now, I don't know."
I am the worst. I am honest, but I'm the worst. I've been so melting-down, self-involved, financial freak-outs McGee that I don't really know how the most important people in my life are doing. I know that my mom has loaned me money neither of us really has to spare in order to finance this move. (With the return of my deposit, plus my tax refunds, I will be able to pay her back in full, but still....being 30 years old and having to do this is humiliating. The extra kick in the shins is that I was getting ready to start saving.....for the move I thought was happening in September) I know my brother is always ready to talk, and supports my decisions. We talk on the phone a few times a week. They're there for me. I just wish I was something other than an emotional and financial drain right now. I'm definitely the character who is getting, brutally, constantly stuffed when trying to select my breakfast cereal.
(I seriously screamed with laughter when I saw this ad)
It's the same with friends. I have very little idea what's going on. People have been great - lots of support and help. Offers to move. Drinks bought. I see it all and it's appreciated. I had a guest in town from the UK, a trip that had been planned for months before all this happened. But then....instead of taking her out for fun girlie nights on the town, I dragged her to the outer boroughs to look at apartments with me. This is not the type of hospitality I like to show guests, especially ones who've come so far. She was really understanding, but again....massive failure on my part.
It's been about three weeks since this whole thing started - not a long stretch of time by any means, but enough that I feel sufficiently fried. My mind isn't here. It's calculating and re-calculating to see if I can make all my payments on time. It's working on the logistics of the move. It's hoping I have enough money to buy a metrocard and some groceries. And it's still reeling at the fact that I've lost my home and my friendship there so unexpectedly. I'm sorry If I haven't been here, or haven't been paying attention to what's going on with you. This won't last forever. It can't.
Friday, February 8, 2013
When I'm Over The Day Before 11am
I thought Friday was off to a pretty standard start. 5 hours sleep. Blizzard outside.
Get to work. Start cancelling the building passes (there's enough here for a deck of playing cards) of those who've been laid off. Bill some invoices. Do some reading. Look at dresses I can't afford.
Then Dr. Lumberjack comes in looking like a goddamn reject from Newsies.
With the peacoat and the flat newsboy cap. And I don't know if this just confirms he's gay, or just fashion forward. This look IS in a lot of men's magazines. Ralph Lauren's fall collection was basically depression-era vests and tweed. I mean, I know straight guys who wear those caps.....two of them. Oh well. I mean, he's still gorgeous - it's just that my hope he's into ladies is dwindling. There are actually a lot of weird outfits going on at work today. And while I'm all for people having some fun on casual Friday, the lady wearing the pink polo shirt with the popped collar and pearls is freaking me out a bit. I feel like I should ask if she wants to get together and throw a lacrosse ball around on the quad sometime (which in reality would probably be quite fun, but would take the wind out of my snide sails).
Then the weirdness ball really got rolling - the messenger who likes me (for whom I do not reciprocate feelings at all) straight up asked what I was doing for Valentine's Day! I said I have a date (which is a slight twisting of the truth...it's a girlie date to the movies with a close friend who also happens to be single) but even though I've been really (rudely, but I don't know what else to do because he still doesn't get it) standoffish to him, he won't quit trying to chat me up every single day. It grinds my fucking gears. Every time he comes down the hallway, he clears his throat, or sighs loudly to get my attention. Enough, little boy. I know you're 21 and think you're hot shit and charming, but you're not. I know you're there. And I choose to keep focused on my work, thanks.
All this before 11am.
At least it's the weekend. Doesn't look like I'm getting fired (my company does layoffs on Friday, which certainly takes the TG out of TGIF) and I love snow, so that's good. I might have found a place to live (put in an application, still waiting), and I have my current apartment to myself. More and more I prefer being alone. Is it gracefully growing older and enjoying my own company, or a descent into Moliere-worthy misanthropy? Jury's still out.
Happy Snowday.
Get to work. Start cancelling the building passes (there's enough here for a deck of playing cards) of those who've been laid off. Bill some invoices. Do some reading. Look at dresses I can't afford.
Then Dr. Lumberjack comes in looking like a goddamn reject from Newsies.
(Basically, like this except without the stupid rolled up pants.)
With the peacoat and the flat newsboy cap. And I don't know if this just confirms he's gay, or just fashion forward. This look IS in a lot of men's magazines. Ralph Lauren's fall collection was basically depression-era vests and tweed. I mean, I know straight guys who wear those caps.....two of them. Oh well. I mean, he's still gorgeous - it's just that my hope he's into ladies is dwindling. There are actually a lot of weird outfits going on at work today. And while I'm all for people having some fun on casual Friday, the lady wearing the pink polo shirt with the popped collar and pearls is freaking me out a bit. I feel like I should ask if she wants to get together and throw a lacrosse ball around on the quad sometime (which in reality would probably be quite fun, but would take the wind out of my snide sails).
Then the weirdness ball really got rolling - the messenger who likes me (for whom I do not reciprocate feelings at all) straight up asked what I was doing for Valentine's Day! I said I have a date (which is a slight twisting of the truth...it's a girlie date to the movies with a close friend who also happens to be single) but even though I've been really (rudely, but I don't know what else to do because he still doesn't get it) standoffish to him, he won't quit trying to chat me up every single day. It grinds my fucking gears. Every time he comes down the hallway, he clears his throat, or sighs loudly to get my attention. Enough, little boy. I know you're 21 and think you're hot shit and charming, but you're not. I know you're there. And I choose to keep focused on my work, thanks.
All this before 11am.
At least it's the weekend. Doesn't look like I'm getting fired (my company does layoffs on Friday, which certainly takes the TG out of TGIF) and I love snow, so that's good. I might have found a place to live (put in an application, still waiting), and I have my current apartment to myself. More and more I prefer being alone. Is it gracefully growing older and enjoying my own company, or a descent into Moliere-worthy misanthropy? Jury's still out.
Happy Snowday.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
No More Shots On School Nights
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life
(Hamlet)
Last week, when the mania of this month still felt new (and not like a muscular fist of acid in the pit of my stomach) I met up for drinks with E & J, a great couple, and tore into some beers and a few shots - on aschool work night. It felt good. I didn't care about functioning the next day. I needed to talk, relax, have a laugh with good friends. We talked about the stuff that often feels like it's missing from my life now - interesting theatre, movies, stuff we'd read, sports, history....you know.
Topics I like.
I went home and flopped into bed. I wasn't (and still am not) sleeping much, but a few restless hours need to be squeezed in somewhere, if only to try and alleviate my current "face of meth" chic.
And I had a dream that I woke up from in tears.
It wasn't a nightmare. That's the only way I can describe it - a dream I woke up from in tears. And I don't even remember the full-fledged plot, or arc of what was happening, just the moment that startled the crap out of me.
In the dream, I am my current look and age. I am talking to my mother in the kitchen of their house. Everything looks as it does now. I hear the garage door, loud as always. Who the hell is that? After a beat, in walks my dad. But....it's Dad from about 20 years ago. He's just come back from work, in uniform. And even though I'm completely in shock, I run like a child and throw my arms around him. I don't want to let go. Because 30 year old me knows what's coming and wants to protect Dad from 20 years ago. He smiles and eventually peels me off, and says "I'm going upstairs to change" just as he did every night when he got home. He turns and heads up the stairs.
I turn to look at my mom, the source of all comfort and explanations, but she's gone.
Suddenly, the basement door opens a few feet away and Dad comes up. And he looks at me.
We both freeze.
Because he went upstairs just moments ago, and has emerged from the basement. Which is impossible. Dad looks at me, and he looks scared. Like he suddenly understands as well that something is terribly wrong with the world we're in. His eyes are wide. I'm scared too. And again I run and hug him, and this time he holds me like HE doesn't want to let go either.
I woke up in tears.
No more shots on school nights, huh? Everything feels upside down. Like you're trapped in a MC Escher print.
Meanwhile....Still no luck on the apartment front. At this point, I think "it's a year. You can get by for one more year." I am so utterly burnt out on the matter. Needs to be over.
Here's a bit of cheer for us to part with. I would have liked Les Miserables if it had been more like Mean Girls.
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life
(Hamlet)
Last week, when the mania of this month still felt new (and not like a muscular fist of acid in the pit of my stomach) I met up for drinks with E & J, a great couple, and tore into some beers and a few shots - on a
Topics I like.
I went home and flopped into bed. I wasn't (and still am not) sleeping much, but a few restless hours need to be squeezed in somewhere, if only to try and alleviate my current "face of meth" chic.
And I had a dream that I woke up from in tears.
It wasn't a nightmare. That's the only way I can describe it - a dream I woke up from in tears. And I don't even remember the full-fledged plot, or arc of what was happening, just the moment that startled the crap out of me.
In the dream, I am my current look and age. I am talking to my mother in the kitchen of their house. Everything looks as it does now. I hear the garage door, loud as always. Who the hell is that? After a beat, in walks my dad. But....it's Dad from about 20 years ago. He's just come back from work, in uniform. And even though I'm completely in shock, I run like a child and throw my arms around him. I don't want to let go. Because 30 year old me knows what's coming and wants to protect Dad from 20 years ago. He smiles and eventually peels me off, and says "I'm going upstairs to change" just as he did every night when he got home. He turns and heads up the stairs.
I turn to look at my mom, the source of all comfort and explanations, but she's gone.
Suddenly, the basement door opens a few feet away and Dad comes up. And he looks at me.
We both freeze.
Because he went upstairs just moments ago, and has emerged from the basement. Which is impossible. Dad looks at me, and he looks scared. Like he suddenly understands as well that something is terribly wrong with the world we're in. His eyes are wide. I'm scared too. And again I run and hug him, and this time he holds me like HE doesn't want to let go either.
I woke up in tears.
No more shots on school nights, huh? Everything feels upside down. Like you're trapped in a MC Escher print.
Meanwhile....Still no luck on the apartment front. At this point, I think "it's a year. You can get by for one more year." I am so utterly burnt out on the matter. Needs to be over.
Here's a bit of cheer for us to part with. I would have liked Les Miserables if it had been more like Mean Girls.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Is Apartment Hunting Like Being A Bride?
Let us begin this post with a hilarious bit of information I realized last night.
The three weddings I am attending this year....are back-to-back-to-back over weekends in the fall.
Wow.
I mean. It's great! I love weddings. It will be lots of fun. And really busy. But yes. BUSY. I had better get cracking memorizing all of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" dance moves, because you know I'm going to be putting that to exceptionally good use this autumn.
The apartment hunt continued to dominate the weekend, and after hours of walking about in the cold with a new-to-the-city, uncomfortably-young broker, I was dead on my feet tired. Does going for a lookabout with a broker feel like an exceptionally long and unsexy date to anyone else? You spend hours together, talking about who you are and what you want out of life and living....but you're not attracted to each other (at least not in my case) and nothing fun is going to happen at the end. Sigh. I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate this process.
I found a really cool apartment in the hunt yesterday. Insane view. It's top of my price ceiling, but it's super spacious, the building seems great, in a safe neighborhood close to friends and the train I need to get to work. I was pretty stoked. And then....I kind of deflated. I couldn't help but wonder if there was something better, cheaper, closer out there? And would I find it only after I'd put down a deposit? Now, I'm on a time crunch here. I'm a beggar, not a chooser. But I don't want to just dive into the first available thing either. It's like being a bride, I think. You've been fortunate enough to find your mate. But then with everything else, the dress, the venue, the details.....do you wonder if there's a better option out there? Is it settling to take something that is "really good" rather than "perfect?" Is it OK to get the first dress/apartment you try on? (Granted, this was my 5th apartment, but still.)
The three weddings I am attending this year....are back-to-back-to-back over weekends in the fall.
Wow.
I mean. It's great! I love weddings. It will be lots of fun. And really busy. But yes. BUSY. I had better get cracking memorizing all of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" dance moves, because you know I'm going to be putting that to exceptionally good use this autumn.
I found a really cool apartment in the hunt yesterday. Insane view. It's top of my price ceiling, but it's super spacious, the building seems great, in a safe neighborhood close to friends and the train I need to get to work. I was pretty stoked. And then....I kind of deflated. I couldn't help but wonder if there was something better, cheaper, closer out there? And would I find it only after I'd put down a deposit? Now, I'm on a time crunch here. I'm a beggar, not a chooser. But I don't want to just dive into the first available thing either. It's like being a bride, I think. You've been fortunate enough to find your mate. But then with everything else, the dress, the venue, the details.....do you wonder if there's a better option out there? Is it settling to take something that is "really good" rather than "perfect?" Is it OK to get the first dress/apartment you try on? (Granted, this was my 5th apartment, but still.)
(Me to all brides)
Feeling very much at a loss. Maybe I need to grow up, bite the bullet, and drop the deposit. I suspect one of the things making me extra reluctant to do this is the fact that the way this whole situation has gone down is going to end up (once the dust has settled) costing me about $2,000. Money I absolutely do not have. This goes back to the whole feeling terrified/angry/fucked feeling I've been riding since the 23rd. I just don't think any of this is worth it anymore. One more year and out.
Friday, February 1, 2013
HUH - Plans! What Are They Good For? (Absolutely Nothing)
I know it's going to be kind of a dubious Friday when I need a piece of candy before 10am, and it's really, really cold at my desk. Also, this interaction:
Me: Why is it so cold today? Usually it's so warm.
C: I like it.
Me: If I'd known I would have worn a thicker sweater. I'd rather wear a big, fuzzy sweatshirt though. That would be perfect.
C: I wouldn't wear anything!
Me: Oh, wait I'd wear pajamas....hold on, what did you just say?
So that happened. Also I'm currently talking to some guests for Dr. Lumberjack and they're SO COOL. They're company representatives (he reviews a lot of gear and gadgets) and they're friendly and funny and I wish I could come to this meeting too, you know? Obviously I would have nothing to contribute other than a bunch of high-fives and "Yeah, that sounds good!" but I would say it with such enthusiasm they would feel glad of my presence.
I feel like my brain is currently divided into:
60% - Moving anxiety
20% - Work exhaustion
10% - Balancing finances/Getting ready to do taxes
5% - Plans for making my life better
3% - Basic motor functions
1% - Men
1% - Dogs in people clothes
I emailed my mother the other day, basically telling her my "plans" and as always, felt the need to put the *but nothing in the last five years has worked out as I'd hoped, so don't really bank on this* addendum. I hate that my dreams require disclaimers. Does this mean I'm really grounded or totally burnt-out and jaded?
I made a commitment to my job for at least one year, and I fully intend to honor that. And when I sign my lease, I will honor that as well. So imagine that I sign a new one year lease, and end up knocking out more time, and cultivating my experiences. When the dust settles, it will be March of 2014, and I will be 31 years old. And by then I will be ready for a change. And just to add a certain masochistic element into the mix (because it's Friday!) I looked up real estate in my price range in a few of the places I'm considering....for what will get me a small room in New York City, elsewhere I can have....oh geez. Pretty much everywhere I am looking I can get a 2 bedroom in the heart of downtown for even less. That. Sucks.
But, hey these are my plans. They've got about as much use as when we were kids and we learned to play the recorder in music class. Absolute zero.
Me: Why is it so cold today? Usually it's so warm.
C: I like it.
Me: If I'd known I would have worn a thicker sweater. I'd rather wear a big, fuzzy sweatshirt though. That would be perfect.
C: I wouldn't wear anything!
Me: Oh, wait I'd wear pajamas....hold on, what did you just say?
So that happened. Also I'm currently talking to some guests for Dr. Lumberjack and they're SO COOL. They're company representatives (he reviews a lot of gear and gadgets) and they're friendly and funny and I wish I could come to this meeting too, you know? Obviously I would have nothing to contribute other than a bunch of high-fives and "Yeah, that sounds good!" but I would say it with such enthusiasm they would feel glad of my presence.
I feel like my brain is currently divided into:
60% - Moving anxiety
20% - Work exhaustion
10% - Balancing finances/Getting ready to do taxes
5% - Plans for making my life better
3% - Basic motor functions
1% - Men
1% - Dogs in people clothes
I emailed my mother the other day, basically telling her my "plans" and as always, felt the need to put the *but nothing in the last five years has worked out as I'd hoped, so don't really bank on this* addendum. I hate that my dreams require disclaimers. Does this mean I'm really grounded or totally burnt-out and jaded?
I made a commitment to my job for at least one year, and I fully intend to honor that. And when I sign my lease, I will honor that as well. So imagine that I sign a new one year lease, and end up knocking out more time, and cultivating my experiences. When the dust settles, it will be March of 2014, and I will be 31 years old. And by then I will be ready for a change. And just to add a certain masochistic element into the mix (because it's Friday!) I looked up real estate in my price range in a few of the places I'm considering....for what will get me a small room in New York City, elsewhere I can have....oh geez. Pretty much everywhere I am looking I can get a 2 bedroom in the heart of downtown for even less. That. Sucks.
But, hey these are my plans. They've got about as much use as when we were kids and we learned to play the recorder in music class. Absolute zero.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)