Kitty Power

In the "no shit" category...

In the "no shit" category for today: People seek themselves in potential mates.

So, all I need is a sardonic, media-obsessed guy who spends way too much time online, loves music and dancing and me. In this town? Ain't happening...

Nerd Test

take the nerd test.
and go to mewing.net. a nerd utopia.

Kitty Power Means...

kitty power Magic Number 11 Job Criminal Personality Sunshine And Blue Skies Temperament Best Not To Ask Sexual If I Have To Likely To Win A Free Coke Me - In A Word Dull Colour Brought to you by MemeJack

Music Week

"I got my arrow...I got my bow, I got my fire and I'm walking through the darkness slowly on a tightrope wire..."

I broke my resolve and started downloading like mad on the office Mac, though I think that's what started the whole "Devil Computer" thing. Ah well. Currently rocking Blackalicious, Flaming Lips and more Lisa Shaw/Blue Six.

I hearby declare this music week. I plan to hit up this and this and this too. In between hanging out with my boy, my non-related brother Alex before he goes off to Portugal to do his Mr. Rock Star thing. That loft party was rescheduled to the 4th ('twas killed because it refused to stop raining every weekend for a while there). I'm gonna do that up massive since it's apparently 2 blocks or so away from the East River which means good seat for the fireworks. Anyone that wants to come with, should holla back! A big ha at me saying holla back. Time to wean away from Power 105...

I'll be hitting NYC limits sometime tomorrow. Yay!

Flashback

What I broke out into in the shower this morning:

Candice, notorious, glorious
Knowledge is infinite, I live in a fortress
I'm so astronomical, yet on a physical plane
My body's just a shell, in control is my brain
I strain to gain spirituality
So I can finally be in unity
Harmony with the all eye-seeing
Supreme being
Knower of histories and mysteries
I'm mystic, also stylistic
Not materialistic, simplistic
Humble while others tumble, stumble
Candice, not Bumble
Rumble, no, that's not likely
That's in my old 'school daze' like Spike Lee
Candice, my rhymes get better with time
I should get an endorsement for creating fresh lines
And as I grow older, lyrics get hyper
Cause I'm a dominant black pied piper
Spreadin peace and love throughout my travels
And take time to read and unravel
Day to day problems, and then solve
Them, I can see clearly now as I revolve
Around suckers
Who perpetrate heroes
But I'm no sandwich
More like a manwich
Or maybe like a meal
Which is much more real
Than Clark Kent or the Man of Steel
Teddy Tedd, a hip-hop ambassador
Keepin you on the floor, givin you more and more
His cuts exquisite, what is it? A blizzard
The musical wizard you should come visit
The man in the back, without further ado
Teddy Tedd is gonna make it real funky for you

Yeah, old school. Brings back memories of doing an impromptu performance of this for my 4th grade class as Ms. Alexander went out the room to do something or another. Bet you didn't know I had skillz...

Testing My Patience...

The mystery of the Shady solved: he's got a new girlfriend. He pissed me off last week in NYC by being generally evasive and wasting my time and then being all sketchy on AIM all this week. Being the tenacious sort, I just straight out confronted him earlier:

Moi: so what's your story?
Shady: hm
M: you're acting stranger than usual...or perhaps it's just me
SC: im sorry- im dating a girl now.
SC: which might explain the strangeness
M: boys are so strange. why didn't you just come out and say that before?
SC: i dont know.
SC: boys are strange.
M: obviously
M: well, that's good.
M: girl from school?
SC: nah, shes 25
SC: really nice girl
M: uh oh, older woman. go, mr. player.
SC: nahh. sorry ive been strange
M: it's cool. it wasn't really a big thing
M: i was just curious
M: it was a familiar evasiveness
SC: he he he.
SC: you are a perceptive broad
M: it's a scenario that's played out more than once
M: you should tell your girl i think you're a silly but generally chill
SC: i am a bit silly
SC: at times

That was simple enough. But,

sing it for me, Mary!

*rant on* Why are dudes so fucking tired? The dilemma of the year is how to not let my cynicism and irritation get in my way of idealistic hope that there is a decent guy out there for me. My resolve to stay positive is chipped away every time when the second I feel that a non-relationship is so wonderfully loose and clear that I can feel comfortable, the other shoe's gotta drop and the "oh, I didn't tell you I have a girl now" card has got to be pulled. Geez. What bugs me is not a case of a secret batch of romantic feelings I didn't know I had getting crushed. The emotional input plug-in may be disabled, but shit, I've got feelings. Why do I have to be jerked around? It's that I hate that instead of honoring the honesty I've always extended, they've got to be all evasive and secretive. That stupid "have your cake and eat it too" crap. Fuck that, especially since it's so transparent. That's why I'm perceptive. You have to develop a bullshit detector as part of the armor. *rant off*

I'm just annoyed because I hate the waste of even the most minimal of invested time. I think the one thing I am crystal clear is on is how much I don't want a boyfriend because I'm still infinitely sore from spending most of the past year being dragged through the emotional wringer by two cases of LDRs when I've always known that I'm the most anti-LDR person there is. I fear sometimes that my total disillusionment will overtake me and I'll be an empty predator doing my thing. Been there, done that in the much alluded to January stuff (yeah, yeah, I'll get to telling that story) and at the end of it all, I felt like shit because every feeling I'd been running from was still there...but now mixed up with some latent Catholic Madonna/Whore guilt. Fuck the exes because it isn't about any of them. It's about me wanting my rally but no one coming to the organizational meeting.

Job Blahs

A day of baking in the sun turns a little Candicissima's brain to mush. Gah. It's not even 10pm and I'm about to pass out face down. There's something about CT that makes me not be able to hang. Oh yeah, I remember now. It's mindnumblingly boring, so I'd just rather go to sleep more times than not. That's right.

Today I was struck with a big sense of wanting to grab plenty of metaphoric bulls by the horns, but also not knowing where to start. It may be relatively non-radical and middle class pedantic of me, but I want a job. I want somewhere to go and something to do everyday. I want the option of getting dressed up, but definitely having to look nice. A desk with a computer and a person I can call my boss and people I can call co-workers and choose to or not to go with them somewhere for lunch. I want to bitch or brag about my day and commiserate about it with friends. Most importantly, I want a paycheck and money in the bank and the start of a little nest egg. I'm sick of feeling like a dependent -- even if I've been managing on my own more than not for the past 4 years. After all, there's only one name on that loan bill about which they'll be knocking on my door about around Thanksgiving (unfortunately I think sometimes).

Jay and I were talking about the frustrations of the job search. To date, I know one person who has gone back to NYC and found a job on arrival. One. I'm starting to feel a bit discouraged. Not helping is that I just feel all scatterbrained and confused about what I want to do. The English major side of me wants to write, write, write! Or do the whole editorial thing. (I'm currently kinda sad that they dangled the editorial assistant thing in front of me and then *poof* not a peep.) The Sociology major wants to crusade for social justice, work for a non-profit, just generally do something progressive and positive. The would be scenester wants to be in the thick of everything doing media planning, PR, music or something creative. Candicissima just wants a fucking job. One that allows me to live -- even thinly. Fuck New York...though I doubt anywhere else is better about now.

Hint, hint

If the eyes are the window to the soul, the wish list is the peek into the mind.

Odds and Ends

Friendster's becoming a bit unbearable. A Wes person is always only a friend of a friend away. Still, I have run into people I actually like and are in NYC, adding to my offline hanging out list. Nothing wrong with that.

I woke up this morning suffocating and feeling like I was being burned alive, but more importantly thinking that I need more friends my age. 22 is a strange age to be, mostly because it's BLOWN so far. In retrospect, I enjoyed the hell out 21 because that age gives you license and an excuse to go stupid wild -- though the freedom cliche had the least do with why that year was a very good one. At 22, I'm finally out of school (for the time being) for the first time in like 18 years, kicking this independence thing up a notch, and trying (but failing miserably so far) to be a genuine Adult. The last thing I need is to be patronized or be viewed like that bouncy little puppy because I don't do puppy. Kittenish perhaps but only in moderation. 22 is "you better be marching towards responsibility, punk, and liking it." I don't know if that has anything to do with hanging out with "older" folks really, but the inevitable "just wait a few years and you'll understand" shit even from folks who have me by a year or two boils my freaking blood. I'm insecure about being young party favor as strange as that sounds. I dunno. There is no real conclusion or points to this argument. That was just on my mind.

In other news, it's time to start weaning myself away from blogging. I'm feeling anxious that my Boys Superpost is getting pushed onto the next page because I want comments on it but it hasn't really happened yet like I want. I've got just a teeny bit of an obsessive personality. If you couldn't tell already.

I need a digital camera (or at least a way to post my semester's worth of cool pics from this pesky Mac). I'm seriously considering housing the yearbook camera. She and I were inseperable for a while there. I can work her like a pro. We have a deep bond and she's made it clear that she feels she belongs in NYC with me and not hanging out in a drawer in Middletown. And that the thought of me palming some other spanking new bitch isn't something that makes her happy. We're in negotiation.

ETA: A little sad (for him) but hilarious.

Quickie

So, over on The Ruckus, I sent out a call for Arby's while commenting on something totally unrelated. And you know what, success! You bet your ass, I'm making an Arby's trek. Actually, it won't be that hard. There's a bus that goes from my house to here and this is right next to my closet shopaholic father's favorite mall. That's also the place I saw Prodigy from Mobb Deep one Christmas. Is there some sort of law that most rappers have to be around my height? Poor little Napoleans. Anyhoo, anybody want a Beef & Cheddar when I get back to town? Possibly this weekend since this time tomorrow the book should be done, done, done minus proof corrections. It takes about a week for those to turnaround, so there's no point -- besides sending back people's pics, if I'm feeling so inclined -- for me to hang around. Viva freedom!

In other news, if I'm still unemployed and bored on July 30th, I'm calling road trip. I just wanna see Juju in another dolphin costume. Heh. Not really...well, yeah I do, but that's not the only reason. Isley Brothers, Stones, Guess Who, Flaming Lips. Sounds like a good time. All for $16 plus travel expenses. Alex and the band guys made a stop in TO last summer on their tour and the pics made the place look like some serious fun. Might as well live it up especially since that's the last week of my Mommy nagging free summer. We have a deal that I can be as leisurely as I want about this job thing until August 1st. Tick, tick.

*sigh*

*sigh* I fell off the motivation train.

I started off so well today. I woke up from this really bizarre dream involving a prof and stuff I'd rather not talking about with the thought in my head, "it's sure a nice Thursday. FUCK! It's Thursday? 12:30pm on Thursday! I have 32 pages to lay out before 7! Ack!" I didn't know I could shower and run up a hill so fast.

I was such a good girl until about 3:30 when I got hungry. Corrected my proofs and finally finished correcting this other set of 16 before running off to the "deli" for a sandwich and assorted other teeth rotting things. Almost an hour later, I'm still working on the sandwich and just snapped out of the blog surfing procrastination. I suck. But, at least I'm not melting today. Have to give myself props where I can.

Funny Stuff

Currently making procrastination fun and laughter-filled:

Earlier today I was thinking about how I'm really dorky and think about sex a lot, and there's a part of me that could be really content just sitting inside and reading comic books and playing video games and eating pizza, so maybe deep down inside I’m really just a 13 year old boy, but then I thought about how I secretly want to be a princess and really enjoy smelling good, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m deep down inside, I'm really just a homosexual 13 year old boy.

Oy

The temperature sign on the bank we drove past said 99 degrees F. I'm suffocating.

Musical Interludes

If it's alright, there is something here to dream/Now that you've found a heaven/Could you find it here with me? - Sweeter Love

Louis Vuitton shoes and a whole lot of booze/Every other week a different dude, another cruise - No Matter What They Say

Preciously I don't whisper right/I don't miss that night after all/So it's possible I am the ghost of this - Parasol

Like two gorillas in a jungle...making love - Snake

Ladies, good night. Gentlemen, good morning. - Senorita

I love you like a fat kid love cake/You know my style, I'll say anything to make you smile - 21 Questions

When School and Home Collide

The Wes wave has started. All the folks who've been up in Middletown doing whatever as I've been going back and forth are making their way to NYC and their nice new apartments. I, being the native, am getting phone calls/numbers/requests for my cell # and getting signed up for tour guide/nightlife expert/information provider. I love it. It seems like most of my recently most-liked folks are making the trek. Granted, they've got jobs (for the most part), money and swanky places, mostly in Manhattan, where I've mostly got spunk, joie de vivre and an understanding (for now) mother who is letting me live like a party-loving vampire. Still, it seems like it's gonna be a good thing. Who has ever suffered by having too many friends after all?

Boys, Boys Everywhere...

The Liminal Liberal in my brain...or is it me in hers? I am younger after all:

Deep down, I'm what you call a severely sexually aggressive female. When I behave otherwise, I don't do so well. Not so good with coy. Not so good with hard to get. I'm much better with the obvious. I think. I dunno. Maybe that's something I made up.

I feel her immensely since I'm in the middle of a funk. Well, that's not true. The real problem is I can't keep my ass in NYC long enough to feel settled, so I'm presently disoriented. A thing previously mentioned is no longer a problem (for the record, this phrase was an euphemism), but the past weekend has me feeling disgruntled.

In the midst of jerks, losers and would-be players who got walked away from, (internally) laughed at, shot dirty looks, or generally dissed, I met guys that were cool. Two, in fact. On the same night. Great, Candicissima, you might be thinking, so what happened then? Not a freaking thing. Hence, why I'm disgruntled. Let me set the scene for you...

Friday night. My joint, my not-my-neighborhood hangout for over a year now. I was considering weaning away because the crowd is getting a little too post-frat for my tastes, but the music has been coming back in a big way so I'm torn. Anyhoo, while doing my typical easing my way into being social through surveying the scene, I get captured by this crazy drunken guy who, despite not being able to dance and is cruising on getting hit due to some grabbiness, amuses me and those around us that I shoot looks to over his head. I gave him about 20 minutes or so and the novelty began to wear off. Surveying as I do, I notice a guy standing near us. Much more my type than crazy short drunken loud homeboy. What is my type, you ask? *clearing my throat* Welll...between 5'9" and 6'2", dark hair, dark eyes (though I make exceptions for especially striking light-colored ones), athletically slim but not bony, social, a dancer, and radiating confidence. Of course, there's always room for exceptions, but Jay and others can assure that there is a definite Candice template...and will probably mention untrue other criteria in the comments. Punks.

Anyways, I could see he was Candice material just by the way he was dancing by himself close to the crowd but more in the corner. Plus he had a cool newsboy cap on. Another Candice criterium: he owns hats in which he looks good but I would look even better in. Crazy Drunk Guy was really trying my patience and I'm dancing in front of the new guy. I turn to him and whisper at him, "Save me from this fool before I have to hurt him." We lock eyes for a sec and I step away. He proceeds to do nothing, though I'm now dancing closer to him and soon Crazy Drunk Guy just wanders off. I whisper to the guy something along the lines of, "hey, I asked you to help me. Good job...not." and he replies, "oh...that's what you said? I thought you were trying to show your man off to me or something." We laugh, we dance, we talk. Quite special. It comes out that he's a Red Hook dweller, there with old friends who are spending more time scattered about the place than hanging, lover of hip hop/R&B/reggae, worker bee, 26, and getting a kick out of my name being "secret." He did the thing that pissed me off: "Oh, 22...I remember that. Enjoy those days yadda yadda I'm gonna patronize the young'un" yet I still liked him through all that. He asked me if I had a boyfriend, but self-censored himself with an "I guess not since you're here" immediately afterwords. I replied to him in the negative and assured him that "nobody puts Baby in a corner." He went off to talk to his friends for a sec and asked me to wait there, but I went off for water (no, really) and when I got back, he was gone. I went off dancing about my business for a few mins before there he was where his friends were parked...dancing with another lady. I say lady because she was older...than me for sure. I couldn't really read the situation because she and her friends were sitting with him and his friends and I being slow didn't get the chance to ask him if he had a girlfriend or not. I have a history of getting mixed up with boys that leave that type of information until they finally feel the situation calls for revealing that piece of info. Grr... Anyhoo, I was thrown off, so I danced with his friends, with random folks, around him, but not with him as before. He made moves to call it a night after a while and I whispered with a joking tone, "it was nice to meet you, though you ended up running away from me." He replied that he hadn't and I walked off kinda frustrated, before grabbing my stuff and heading out before they did.

I strolled off to the 2nd Avenue stop irritated. Over what? Nothing really. I overthink. That's who I am, that's what I do. The Uptown/Queens platform was mad crowded. Then again, it usually is on a weekend night. I'm walking towards the center when I notice this guy standing by a beam, just looking hipster cool. My hipster vitrol most often than not comes from the fact that I'm just not into the fads, but I'll be damned if most of the boys aren't fine as hell if too skinny and vaguely unwashed looking in their designer gear. We do the movie lock eyes thing as I get near, then pass him to go sit down on the bench. He looks at me, I look back, and he sits on the bench next to me. I turn to him and ask if he was planning to sit where I was before I ended up there. He responds in the negative, adding that he's ridiculously drunk. "Oh okay, you were just not trying to fall into the tracks then." We laugh. There's this old man sitting on the otherside of him that's amused as he and I banter. He's probably amazed that I strolled up in there and am working so masterfully. That's right. I got skills. But, actually NYC's cool that way. It's pretty easy to chat with folks. People do it to me -- in the daytime, platonically -- all the time.

Bachelor # 2 is from Barcelona, living in Astoria and a chef who is the bizarro taller, better looking version of Gael Garcia Bernal of Amores Perros and Y Tu Mama Tambien fame. We rode the F train to Roosevelt together just chilling. I was amused that every story he told practically revolved around sex, but not so much with the "I'm experimenting" line. You could've knocked me over with a feather when he said that he was 27. He looked younger than me, and considering that I look about 19 they say, that's something. At Roosevelt, he split to go catch his train home and I stood there on the platform waiting for an E wanting to kick myself.

The point of this neverending story? I can get an in, chat, and be all wonderful and alluring to an artform but I can't close a deal to save my freaking life. What did I want from those encounters? Nothing, everything...something more than the feeling I screwed off. I spent at least a half hour really vibing with Bachelor # 1, practically getting to know everything about him but job, blood type, and exact address, but do I have his phone number? No. Bachelor # 2 made no secret of the fact that he would've liked to have known me a lot better...not necessarily for my mind, though really he was too drunk (if perfectly composed) to have bothered talking to me if he wasn't interested in it. He showed me his passport but do I remember his name? Kinda...not really. Do I have his number? No. I do know where he works because he told me. That is because he was possibly looking out on a way to see my simple ass again because I have no closing skills whatsoever. Blah. Perhaps I should get a P.Diddyesque wingperson to whisper as he did back in the day to get me with Mr. Sailor that I like "aggressive guys." Then again, no. I have enough trouble with overly aggressive fools as is. I just need to learn the art of following through.

Quickie

I'm still formulating my weekend roundup. I figured I'd tantalize with some actual things guys said to me to get on my good side...I suppose.

"You're so attractive I want to dance with you and not some white girl."
"I was thinking of making you one of my mistresses...oh, you don't wanna? You must like girls or something, huh?"
"Since I've been in the States, I've been exploring...uh, experimenting with all kinds of women. I love Latin women -- Puerto Rican, Brazilian. But also, African, African American. I really have a thing for black girls."
"Excuse me, miss. I love you."
[with a lecherous leer] "I like the way you move."

Ugh. Just ugh.

A Total Aside...

Have you seen that commercial with the three guys in the car and the two in the front are wondering what a bald person would have listed as hair color on their driver's license until the one in the back says they would go by the eyebrows? I went to high school with the guy in the back. He's been in all sorts of commercials and stuff. Go him! But, it wasn't until this morning that I was remembering that he was in Liberty Heights with Mr. Oscar winner himself, Adrien Brody. Mmm... Adrien Brody. I've liked him since Summer of Sam and Restaurant. I'm one degree away from Adrien Brody! That puts a smile on my face.

A Misleading Sentence

Ahh...NYC. I got the spring back in my step.

NYC Bound

I'm off to NYC through the weekend. The book is driving me mad, the weather up here sucks, plus I've run out of clean clothes. Eek!

My dear KT asked why I don't just force myself to stay up here until I'm done being that there's only 30something pages -- minus proofing and administrative shit standing between me and completion. Because being up here sucks and I just don't want to. If you spent any time in Middletown, you'd totally understand. Besides, in 3 weeks, I have laid out by myself a grand total of 64 pages, proofed 96, and alternately starved and went without sleep for a book I'm not even getting paid for. I'll skip town whenever I want.

Grr

I'm so irritated and sleep-deprived that I had succumbed to cursing out an inanimate object. Then again, it's thinking...I swear, the office computer knows how to wait for the time when I'm feeling remotely confident and secure in the work going according to plan before it starts fucking with me. Even the publisher rep who deals with this stuff all the time wanted to throw it out the window. After 2 hours of hardly getting anywhere, he said: "when this is over, we'll have to go out and get a big drink." Word.

What Country Are You?

You're Fiji!
As calm, relaxed, and removed from life as they come, you're just so chilled out, it hurts people to see you.  Everyone aspires to be where you are, but most of them just can't put their stress away.  Little do they know that even you sometimes have inner turmoil and struggles!  For the most part, though, it's sun and fun for you, and that's the way you like it.  It's just sort of hard to get things done with all that partying.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

A few minutes ago, I was strolling up the hills (yes, more than one, this is Middletown) coming back to my office from Neon, trying to balance a bag full of stuff plus rip open a bag of chips because I was about to eat myself alive. As I had crossed the Neon parking lot, some fool had beeped his horn, but I ignored it because why wouldn't I? On the street, I respond to my name and not much else. Besides, I wasn't in the street and blocking traffic and neither was he, so ghost! A minute and change have passed and I'm scarfing my Sour Cream and Onion about to turn onto the path that runs by Olin. This guy drives past and says to me hanging halfway out of his window: "Didn't you hear me beeping at you? Next time, you better come see what I want" before driving off.

Negro, please. Situations like that make me want to get violent. If my hands weren't full, I would've chucked a rock at his broken down ass car. What is it about a girl alone that makes some males feel that they can be as disrespectful as they want? The things that have been yelled out to me on the street -- when I'm dressed in the biggest jeans and baggiest shirts -- make me want to scream. Would they like it if some random stranger said to their sisters/girlfriends/wives/mothers/relatives/friends that they'd like to "take a bite out of that ass" or "paint you naked" or "show you what a real man could do," or my personal favorite, that they're a "stuck up bitch" because they didn't respond to those oh-so-tantalizing offers. God help a woman who actually responds to an obnoxious SOB beeping and calling her out from his car to get her attention. I'm not interested in even conversing with someone who is disrespecting me from go. If I was a superheroine, I'd be the Emasculator, keeping women safe from harassing men and giving their asses a beatdown if they step out of line.

English Major Hell

Currently driving me insane:

In a piece of the book that's been at the printers for a while, there's this line that says "blah blah pleasure to be amongst you." Isn't that wrong? Shouldn't it be "among?" It's been eating at me all week. Where's a freaking grammar reference guide when a kid really needs one?

Yay for Cheap Movies

There's a $4.95 movie theater? That's great! I thought I'd never see a cheap movie again after the old $3 theater closed. I'm most def up for a movie -- when I get back to NYC, natch.

Enneagram Test

free enneagram test

Heh

Heh. Funny. Wish I would've run into that 4 months ago...then again, I was rolling on some playette president tip then before work and stupidity started driving me crazy. File this away for future reference I suppose.

Inspirational Stuff

A pep talk warming my heart:

"What if..." She sipped her drink. "What if I can't find a job?"

"Oh you'll find a job. I'll find a job, too. What, are we not going to find jobs ever again?"

She nodded. "You're right."

"That's what we do," I said. "We find jobs."

And it's true. We're part of that feisty single gal population in New York who work. We don't have much luck in love. Men don't buy us presents or pay our rent. No one is ever jetting us off to someone fabulous island for a weekend. We do not go clubbing until 6 AM. (Although we have, and we're lucky we're still alive.) No "Page Six" name-dropping. No party photos in Paper. We do not appear in reality tv shows.

But we do work. We have degrees, advanced or otherwise, from good colleges, kick-ass resumes and references standing in line around the corner. We will shake your hand firmly and make eye contact in a job interview and no one ever even told us to do that. It was just instinctual. We have known since birth how to get a job, a good job, even, and we definitely know how to keep it.

And we get jobs because we know what we're doing, not because our daddy (or our daddy's best friend from his Yale days) says we do.

Damn right.

Sip of Haterade

A current work avoiding pasttime is reading up on crap on Craig's List. We'll see if I actually get a job off of there, but perhaps an apartment in the future and until then plenty of entertainment. Today I stumbled on an amusing email battle in the Missed Connections section -- yeah, I said missed connections. I'm looking for "to the beautiful brown-skinned curvaceous girl in the Kangol, I was that tall dark-haired model looking guy. We shared a look -- and I feel, a moment -- on the F train. Email me. I'm dying to take you out." The way I figure it, that's more likely to happen then winning the lottery, so I'm a-reading.

Anyhoo, my personal favorite parts of the posts:

i'm queens-born and i agree with EVERYTHING you wrote below.
what makes me even more pissed off is these yuppie, hipster tourists thinking they own manhattan...when, in fact, they have only been here for a few years and plan to leave once they've made their money and had their fun. fuck all of you who complain about b+T people...queens, brooklyn, long island, the bronx, staten island, jersey-you people are way more interesting and real than 99% of the fake fucking transplant so-called "nyers".

i liked this city alot more when pathetic whiney little shits like you were afraid to go out at night.

you don't like it, move out. if enough of your 'born with a silver spoon in your mouth' friends follow you, maybe the rents will come back down enough that some real new yorkers will be able to move back. or maybe you'll actually be able to get a meal someplace for less than $40. or maybe a mediocre beer from one of manhattans nauseatingly over-hyped clubs will cost less than $10.

Can I get a McWord? My pet peeve to end all pet peeves is the term bridge and tunnel. Especially since it only falls out of the mouth of people from out West. The irony that they had to cross some sort of bridge to fucking get here isn't lost on me. I declare a ban on that stupid phrase. Fucking transplants are usually so uptight anyways. You wanna party? Hang out with some kids from the boroughs if only because you won't go broke going to some wack ass superclub/Hollywood on the Hudson hotspot doing it.

Ugh...I hate New York. It's becoming more obvious everyday. The fucking town has no flava. Maybe I should do some sort of reverse migration/exchange. I'll move to the Bay, or better yet pick up and go international, and someone can take my place. I can bitter and unemployed somewhere else. I'll still have my born and raised in NYC cred.

Brooklyn Plans

Thanks to C, I'm jamming to a sweet Ashley Beedle reggae mix. Go Freshly Mixed! I love it when people give me a heads up on music stuff. Now, if someone out there's knows a mp3 downloading program on par with Audiogalaxy and not that craptastic Kazaa or Limewire, help a kid out!

Ever been too tired and bored to actually sleep? Yeah that doesn't make any sense, but what can I do?

Going to the concert yesterday reminded me of how much I missed Brooklyn. Home turf, man. Granted, I didn't grow up anywhere near Park Slope/Prospect Park, but I remember being in the area since my aunt lived at Ebbets Field and my father and I used to visit and go to the library at Grand Army Plaza. And I apparently lived in that area for a hot minute when I was a little thing. Strolling around before the show killing time made me start scoping for spots for my bachelorette pad (which is still a good ways off though). My criteria is in New York City, 5 blocks to the train or less, no more than 40 minutes from 14th Street, no elevated train stops, not SI or the Bronx, rent that I can pay without selling my soul to the devil, and crack houses to the minimum. Easier said than done though. On my side is that "ghetto" neighborhoods don't scare me, but that doesn't mean I want to live across the street from the projects either. I wish I had a peek into the future so I could see where I end up. It'll probably be Williamsburg since I talk so much hipster shit. Or Hudson Heights since the quickest way to get me ranting about NYC are those fake ass names that get slapped onto a neighborhood once it's gentrified. Like DUMBO which as far as I'm concerned is Downtown Until Motherfuckers Bought shit Out. Nolita/NoHo? SoHa? My invisible balls. But, yesterday I was loving Prospect Heights, fulfilling my criteria and then some. I've got history with that area plus it isn't as stuck up as Park Slope. I could even venture closer to Crown Heights because hell, I'm black, so it's not like I'd be really exploring anything. That's a thought. We'll see what's up in November.

Back from a NYC weekend.

Back from a NYC weekend.

Blackalicious at Prospect Park didn't get rained out. Yay! They were pretty freaking fantastic. I ended up going with my brother and father who was just befuddled by the whole experience. He kept repeating, "this is just noise. I can't even understand what they're saying. I'm not feeling this at all." To which I replied, "Daddy, it's not like this is Jay-Z. If you can't feel this, you're just old." And like the fogie he is, he sat down and just kinda shook his head the rest of the show. This coming from the man who bought the Black Rob album for the beats. Poor Mr. Daddy. Happy Father's Day to him and all the bewildered pops.

I went a-dancing, small venues still. I was a little better in my male interactions, if only because no one was foolish enough to grab at me this time. A way I pass the time is to respond to the ever-present "so, what's your name" with "It's secret." This one guy last night got a real kick out of it. "That's really clever, Secret." "So, where are you from, Secret?" I was amused but he was still too old and not getting my number. I think I've forgotten what it's like to not be heartless and evasive in a nightlife space...oh wait, no I haven't. I've forgotten rather what it's like to be in a place where the men all in my face are on my side of 30. Too bad I have a thing for quality music and non-meet market or I could just drag myself back to Webster Hall or Filter 14 where the guys tend to be younger and hotter and I could be persuaded to participate in the youthful mating games. Or just to Pianos or HiFi or Drinkland (actually, I already pass through there) or some hipster mecca. Then again I'm not skin and bones and/or rocking a look like I've been in hibernation since 1983 and just woke up to party!

I'm too cynical for the NY scene I realize. The thing about being from there yet spending most of the past 4 years away is that I don't give a crap about most styles or the hot spots because in 22 years, I've seen plently of people, places and things come and go. I like Sapphire and Guernica because most of the people there have been around dancing for more than 5 years. They know the music and have consistent yet eclectic tastes. The time in the space is a celebration of music and community, not an exercise in scenesterism. I should throw my own parties or something. House, old school, freestyle, and other stuff in a nice intimate space with a good-sized dancefloor, diverse New York flavor and shades represented, with some young people in the freaking joint. That's my idea of heaven. I need to find it.

Refreshed

Ah...feel a lot of better. Mmmm...cherry pie for breakfast. The kid in me is thrilled.

I think the problem with the book thing is that the hassles are outweighing the pros about now. I graduated almost 3 weeks ago yet here I am, still working on this. I'm working alone which sucks my invisible nuts and there's so many little tasks that make up this work. I'm Stressed! majorly on the regular and being up here never fails to make me feel trapped. Doing this ruined my senior year and spring semester in ways that I can't even comprehend right now because I'm still caught up in everything. On the pro side, this really is my book. For all intents and purposes, it's Candice and Friends 2003 with guest appearances by other members of my class. Heh. That's been pretty fun. I've definitely thrown some questionable stuff in there just to mess with people, omitted folks because I could and put others in just so I can have a visual reference to jog a story down the road. This book is my baby. I feel it's an appropriate metaphor since I've sacrificed a lot to help this fucker grow and develop and no one'll be happier than me in September/October when it can go out and stand on its own...or something. And I have a feeling having this project behind me is gonna help a lot on the job front...a girl can dream, eh?

I'm in a serious diva song mood today. Since the shower, I've been internally jamming to Club 69, "I Look Good." "They love me, they hate me/But they all say, I look good." Sing it, girl! All I need now is to hear "Frank Sinatra" and it would be the perfect day. I have to go home today! Thinking about those songs has me in a serious house mood. I think I'll go to a big club for a switch this weekend. I've been wanting to tackle Centro-Fly for a min, though trying to go to a known tourist trap on a weekend night is asking for my head to explode. Ah well. We'll see how it all plays out later.

*sigh*

Last night was one of those weird nights where it takes so long to get stuff done that it felt almost unproductive. I spent most of it awake sitting here at the desk -- minus the two hours when my exhausted ass was passed in the fetal position on a couch in one of the rooms across the hall. I'm shit tired, my head hurts and I've apparently lost all ability to spell. And it's still fucking raining. Ugh.

I'm going home today regardless. I need a shower and maybe some coffee, then I'll do what I can before running out of town.

Suckiness

Bollocks...the loft party (which I'm hearing was about 80% roof top, 20% indoor) is cancelled because of the neverending rainy weekends. That sucks, especially since I was also planning some Celebrate Brooklyn action Saturday. And weather.com is predicting rain next weekend too...then again, as my mother says, "Meteorologists have the only job where you can be wrong most of the time and that's perfectly fine." Come on out, sun! I'm tired of the drowned rat weekend effect. Rain is making Middletown miserable (less than a day to go, hallelujah!) and mosquitos are tearing me up. Grr...

On the upswing, I got a ride headed back to NYC at least which is pretty cool. I only have to lug a bag of shit across a city and not two states now.

Grrr

Current pet peeve: boys who are shady for no real reason.

Slight story time...there's this kid C who I have an...arrangement with. He just graduated also. and we met last summer at the beginning of my "wild and legal in the city" period. I actually resented the hell out of him then because he can get so pointlessly stupid and evasive, but when he returned from Prague and we reconnected back in January, I also reconfigured my shitty opinion of him. Things have been humming along since then when I'm in NYC until recently. Maybe there's something about summer that just makes him dumb. I hate being left hanging and having to play games with an evasive person that I'm not really sure I care that much about. Perhaps I was internally warm and fuzzy for a min a couple months ago, but so what? It passed.

My least favorite guy behavior has to be the "uh oh...we've been talking deep...and stuff. She must want to be my girlfriend or something. Eek!" mode. Spare me the bullshit. To have known someone for a year and made no efforts to go beyond the same level in all this time would've been a clue to me that I'm obviously not interested in anything more than what's already on the table...if I even want to keep that going. He's heading off to Brussels and school soon enough anyways, but he's currently on my shit list.

Random Snatches of Thoughts on A Thursday Morning

Motherfucker! It's raining!...Jesus, was that country music they had on in Neon? This town goes to hell when Wes kids are gone...Did I really come all the way over here when Marco's is so much closer to my office? Hungry people make no sense. I need to stop starving myself so I can get my brains back...Oh shit, I've got a cup of coffee. I mean business today!..."A-T-L nigga, Shawty/Pimpin's how I put it down/Grindin' hard everyday, Chevys ride through ya town/23's on the truck, Ask me if I give a fuck"...Hmm...that's pretty cheap for one bedroom in Clinton Hill...No email? That's wack. Maybe I'll write some...They really must've stood Christina on a box to make her anywhere near Justin's height and her hair looks like horrible Halloween wig...helloo, Mr. Timberlake! He might be a little on the skinny side (I see more rib cage than washboard), but that's damned fine. I need to go back to NYC post haste...Hmm...that's a little expensive for my poor ass, but definitely cute. I can find something close enough at H&M, I'm sure...Okay, I need to stop bullshitting for real.

Funny Stuff

Another net post out there cracking me up today.

There was a guy standing at the counter, and he elected to start up a conversation with me. Which one of my features do you think he chose to focus on?

"What's going on baby girl?"

"Nothing."

"You smoke weed?"

"No."

"Do cocaine?"

"No. I am an entirely wholesome individual."

I turned and walked out the store, and as I left, he said, admiringly:

"Aw girl, look at your big fat ass!"

NYC men are so respectful as a general rule. That's what marked my week home, going out to Sapphire or other spots, and just wanting to be left alone, bob my head and perhaps break out and dance a little later while drinking my Midori Sours (which Jay has gotten me wholly addicted too. That fruity girly crap, man. It's green for Christ's sake, but it's so good!). But, noooo....motherfuckers bugging me every second. Don't ever grab my arm, man. That'll get you punched. I emasculated plenty a dude as I asserted, "yeah, I'm here alone, but no, I don't want to dance with you -- or talk to you for that matter. And, no, don't touch me. Just don't." I suppose it might be strange to go out to be totally by myself, but hey, there's more to going out than finding someone to hook up with. I'm totally social. I chat with people around, dance, chill with the staff who know me. I was in a mood last week where simply being around people, places, and things were more important than being groped and horizontal. We'll see how I feel this weekend.

Brains Don't Grow In Albany

In the stupidest-shit-I've-heard-all-year side of life, a junk food tax. WTF?!?! Is this really New York we're talking about? You can't smoke when you go out, get ticketed for jaywalking or sitting on a crate, cigarettes are shit expensive, etc. NYC is becoming a decidedly uncool place to be. And that guy who proposed that stupidity represents Brooklyn too. *tsk, tsk* Not my former neighborhood however. Though truthfully, I'm scared to check their records or the ones of my present representatives. Being people smart unfortunately isn't a requirement for Assembly members.

Yo ho ho, and a Bottle of Rum...

Did my last post come up 3 times or is this office Mac just possessed like I always imagined it was? (ETA: Yeah, it was actually there multiple times. That was an accident from last night. I deleted it but forgot to republish. Oops. Blogger is so complicated sometimes. Well, not really. I just forgot.)

So, last night...I didn't do any work. I did go hang with P. Diddy for the first time since the night before Graduation when he saved my ass by finding someone with an extra cap and gown. (Oh, I never told that story? I'll get around to it. Typical Candice. Believe me.) He and a couple of other people I like -- a few of whom are making the NYC exodus in a few months -- sat around, drank, talked gossip, and all that good stuff. I was wonderfully happy at 1am (in my defense, we started about 9) when I trotted back to my friends' place and watched a bit of a movie before going to bed.

I even dragged my carcass out of bed at 7:15 -- a major feat for me, definitely. Today is super work day. I have two empty sigs (sets of 16 pages), one that is 4 pages from being done and two to edit and print standing between me and tomorrow when I get the fuck out of Middletown...at least until the proofs come back. I'm so close to being gone for good, I can almost see it. Though, it is somewhat comforting to know that a good chunk of my class is up here in limbo before heading to NYC or wherever. Damn school has us and won't let go! At least we can party like it's Senior Week for a little while longer. I should take some more pictures. Who'd know the difference?

Funny Stuff

This I why I have Bazima linked to the right.

It's funny when you find yourself calling out to people that you once knew, even though you know it would be perfectly fine not to; that you could just not say anything and they'd walk on by not seeing you and you'd avoid those stupid and awkward face-to-face moments. What is that about? Wanting to give meaning to something or validating the fact that you did once have some sort of thing or fling however meaningless it was? I don't know.

As he stood there, an ickyness settled over me. I remembered that Shming, after having met him once, likened Gorgeous to Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho character. There was something wrong with him. He was cold and creepy and shady. He only ate power bars for dinner.

Also, I find comfort in remembering that he had a penis the size of my pinky finger.

She cracks my shit up.

Anyhoo, I'm off to work. For real...I swear.

Procrastinating like a mofo...

Actually, I haven't been that bad overall. Just in terms of yearbook. I've thought a lot about it, but no actual work. I have applied to plenty of jobs though. That's a good thing. My pockets are beginning to feel...light.

But lookie what I found while surfiing the web. Nothing says, "I'm just bullshitting around" like one of those multi-question things. Let the fun begin!

LAYER ONE :
Name: Candice
Birth date: March 9
Birthplace: Brooklyn, NY
Current Location: Middletown, CT (unfortunately)
Eye Color: super dark brown
Hair Color: black
Height: 5'5" on all official documents, but somewhere in the upper 5'4 range.
Righty or Lefty: Righty
Zodiac Sign: Pisces

LAYER TWO :
Your heritage: Southern fried, NYC concrete growing black girl
The shoes you wore today: Pumaesque gray and reds
Your weakness: Junior's Strawberry Cheesecake with Strawberry Ice Cream on top
Your fears: heights, being destitute and alone, being unemployed forever, never leaving Middletown
Your perfect pizza: Meat Lover's Special with a fluffy crust
Goal you'd like to achieve: Mayor of New York...I surely can't be worse than the craptastic ass currently in power.

LAYER THREE :
Your most overused phrase on IM: Definitely heh, but I write like I speak.
Your thoughts first waking up: Fucking brightness *grumble, grumble*
Your best physical feature: Eyes, no doubt, but I give a good eyebrow raise
Your most missed memory: navigating Manhattan with my aunt when I was a kid, playing basketball with the boys in elementary and high school

LAYER FOUR :
Pepsi or Coke: Neither unless it's late and I need a buzz.
McDonald's or Burger King: McD's for the fries and double cheeseburger
Single or group dates: I'm not really a dater per se, but I am a one-on-one interacting sort more times than not
Adidas or Nike: Depends on the present style pursuit
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Nestea
Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate kills! (and yes, in the bad way. I'm allergic.)
Cappuccino or coffee: Coffee but it's too dangerous for me. One night and it had me acting like an addict.

LAYER FIVE :
Smoke: It's been known to happen, some times more frequently than others
Cuss: Is the Empire State Building tall? I've got a little bit too much of potty mouth I thinkk.
Sing: Often. Maybe for you if you ask nicely...
Take a shower everyday:Natch.
Do you think you've been in love: Yes...unfortunately.
Want to go to college: Been there, done that. I need some time away.
Like(d) high school: 'twas fun in an offbeat sort of way.
Want to get married: Yeah...in the far far future
Believe in yourself: More times than not
Get motion sickness: Not really
Think you're attractive: "I'm too sexy for this blog." Stolen from Teh
Think you're a health freak: Shit no. Bring the fat and grease please.
Get along with your parent(s): Yepper...85% of the time.
Like thunderstorms: Sure, as long as I'm inside and away from a window.
Play an instrument: I used to play a mean recorder, but I've dabbled at the bass (poor thing hidden in the closet) and piano.

LAYER SIX :
In the past month, have you...
Drank alcohol: I'll have to go with an affirmative on that one.
Smoked: Less so since school's ended. I'm too cheap to buy my own and I haven't felt social enough to bum.
Done a drug: Nyet.
Made Out: Not enough to inspire anything...
Gone on a date: I repeat: "I'm not really a dater per se"
Gone to the mall?: Yup.
Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: Chocolate is evil! *hiss*
Eaten sushi: Nope. I'm not a big fan. Sorry.
Been on stage: Nope.
Been dumped: Don't you have to be dating to get dumped?
Gone skating: Nope
Made homemade cookies: No...but I was thinking of whipping up some cornbread. Yum.
Gone skinny dipping: Nope. That's not really my thing. I'd rather go to a Naked Party type affair, stand around for a min, and then put my clothes back on when the novelty wore off without the pesky wetness.
Dyed your hair: To dye my hair which is almost too dark to be called raven even, I'd have to strip the color out and have it resemble the tint of straw before putting a new color in. That shit ain't happening!
Stolen anything: Sorry but no.
You sound boring: Yeah well, what can I say? I'm in Middletown against my will. God knows shit doesn't ever happen here!

LAYER SEVEN :
Ever...
Played a game that required removal of clothing: Pish pash. Is there a person alive who never played Truth or Dare, Strip Poker and the like?
If so, was it mixed company: That's how we passed the time on the bus back in the day.
Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Sure.
Been caught "doing something": Nope.
Been called a tease: No, that's what I call silly boys. I put up or shut up. It's a lost art.
Gotten beaten up: Not at all. I was always the scrappy sort.
Shoplifted: Nope. I had a fear of getting caught and my mom stripping the black off my ass.
Changed who you were to fit in: Not because of peer pressure or something equally cliched. I go through style phases and have strange eclectic friends. I'm usually good old moi though.

LAYER EIGHT :
Age you hope to be married: Uh...early 30s?
Numbers and Names of Children: Well, I want at least 1 but the cap is 3. I need a little Cassandra Maria.
Describe your Dream Wedding: now that's something I don't even really think about.
How do you want to die: After a long fulfilling life peacefully.
Where you want to go to college: I went to Wes. For grad school, I'm looking towards the Chicago, Philly, DC, Cali, and NY areas with nothing jumping out yet. Some place that'll take my underachieving ass would be nice.
What do you want to be when you grow up: Financially comfortable
What country would you most like to visit: Brazil, Italy or Morocco.

A Small World and Other Late Night Thoughts

Here it is past 3am and I was meaning to blog about it being stupid late and me being a slacker as usual. I've really spent about 3 1/2 hours aimlessly surfing the net after finishing checking the proofs and put it in the basket for mailing. I still have 2 1/2 sigs to do by Friday when I plan to be the freak out of here. I log onto Blogger and curiosity strikes as I see the recently updated sites list.

I'm clicking just for kicks and I see that one site belongs to this kid who just graduated with me. We used to have our radio shows back to back before I did my time in DC and had inconsequential conversations that usually boiled down to "have a good show. See you next week." And then when I came back to visit in my semester away, he was a surprisingly kicked up a notch friendly and he boggled my mind ever since. Sure, I had a crush on him from the first day I realized he was my station mate, but I'm the type of person that thinks a certain type of good-looking guy, i.e. stupendously so, wouldn't be interested in me...or least I used to. My self-esteem has greatly improved over the years and so has my ego...take the good with the bad I suppose. I always found him frustratingly elusive because nothing ever progressed...not that I was taking charge or anything...beyond innocent flirting.

After one Senior Cocktails -- the infamous Valentine's Day one I think, I can't really remember -- I was in a really shitty mood at this house party. It was because of my upcoming singing debut stress plus that I'd lost Alex...or rather, he had wandered off in that reckless way he can when drunk. He's like a big little brother/puppy to me, despite having done things I can't even imagine, and I can be overprotective, sometimes to a fault. Tino (who deserves a post all of his own because our ever-evolving friendship has been some shit over the years...oh wait, he has pages all about him on the other site...never mind) was being typically blase and prickish as he can be, increasing my edge. This house party was garbage...or at least felt like it. I didn't want to be there, I didn't know or like anyone in attendance, and I wasn't in the mood for a senior party (a.k.a. standing around and gabbing with no music and a big ass keg...for the record, I don't drink piss and it's not an alcoholic beverage to me.) when my mood was in the toilet. Along comes The Kid, doing his usual "hey" low-grade flirtation thing. My exhaustion was so great that I pretty much turned on him with "what's the point of this really? You always say the same thing, as do I and nothing ever comes of it. Why bother?" or something to that effect. Every once in a while I go into train wreck mode where I'm doing something really wrong and feel bad but can't stop it either. He was not surprisingly flustered and said that he thought I was a "cool person." Being on a roll, I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah, you're a cool person too" in the most sarcastic way possible. I don't remember what he said next, but it involved him still being nice before backing away slowly from the bitch. Tino, watching the whole thing but pretending not to, got his next before I dragged my miserable ass home. Left-field emotional fluctuations are havoc on the nerves, so I went home and cried. Pathetic, huh? At least life turned around for the better the next day. I don't handle stress well and I'm a strong believer that crying is essential to picking your sorry ass up because sobbing personally makes me feel like it's the lowest I can go and just feel better when I let it out.

But, this isn't the Candice is a manic-depressive story (yet). To stop my digression, despite my horrible behavior towards him that night -- not that he probably remembered, it was a Senior Cocktails night, he was probably too drunk to remember -- stuff continued in the same harmless vein between me and The Kid until...well, now. It was really bizarre seeing that site because I'd pretty much forgotten about that story until now. That's the problem with Wes: stories of stupid situations/episodes are always chasing me around like ghosts, especially at almost 4am when I'm feeling exhausted. That's why Mr. Sailor has lingered so long in my consciousness, this school has too many bad memories associated with it for my well-being right now. This was hell year. I'm emotionally drained. I need to finish my book and just go home and not look back. It's time for bed.

To wrap up this incredibly disjointed post: Sorry for yelling at you, Josh. Congrats on your fellowship. Have a wonderful time travelling the world. I wish we would've been friends. I used to put down your radio show as my favorite on my time slot application but I think I told you that before.

I'm off to trot down the hill and pass out. Perhaps a good night's sleep will make me productive again.

Reading Rainbow

Can I say that it really is too beautiful to work? I just want to run over to Foss Hill, stretch on the grass, and take a nap. I'm feeling quite lazy. I just realized that I haven't updated the main site worth shit in almost a month now. Pathetic. I'm bursting at the seams with things to write but the office Mac doesn't have FrontPage and I'm not really feeling the walk up the huge ass hill to go to the lab. Maybe a little later.

Last weekend, I started reading for kicks again. That's my favorite part of the summer. School always burned me out. I mean, if I couldn't find it in me to read books for class, reading a book for fun and wasting time wasn't really going to fly either. Summer books are always wonderfully quick and not so cerebral. My years of service for the Wes ITS people was a $20 gift card to Borders. $20?!?! *scoff* One freaking book costs almost $10 -- and that's a paperback! I got 3 and have devoured 2 of those.

The first was Loose Screws by Karen Templeton. Hilarious. They need to make a movie out of that. Starring Sandra Bullock. I like her. She should play Stephanie Plum too. Sandra's so freaking likable in that real life chick down the street sort of way. I can imagine her as tough, klutzy, and sharp-tongued all in one body. I also got the Hipster Handbook in a fit of curiosity. It's funny, but not worth buying funny. I'll be taking that one back. The last was a quintessential "train book:" a thriller about a mysterious killer terrorizing a chick that isn't as weak as she appears and the cop who has a gruff exterior yet a soft spot for her and is going beyond the call of duty...at least that's what I think it's about. I haven't read it yet. I'm a sucker for some romance under duress stuff based in real life. Train books are about pure escapism.

I was considering getting the new Stephanie Plum while I was in Borders, but Hard Eight wasn't there -- in paperback, natch. (Looking on Amazon, I see there's a newer one I didn't know about. Ah well. Library or next year for that one.) I had $20 to spend and I still had to pay like $14 over. Or going a lot more classic with Invisible Man or The Sound And The Fury -- two books I was supposed to read for my American Lit class last semester before the prof started screwing with the syllabus. I was just talking to my mom about Lolita the other day, saying how I remember the book as really hilarious and she was all, "I don't think so." Natch, it could've been my perverted little mind. Ah well. I want to see for myself. Maybe Their Eyes Were Watching God again since I hear they're making a movie out of that soon. Perhaps I'll make it a summer task to tackle Nin or Miller because I haven't touched that since a few years ago when I was Anais crazy after reading her bio. Or Buchowski since Alex and others recommend him so highly.

Any suggestions for a summer reading list?

Odds and Ends

I'm back in CT. I've barely been here a day and am strangely productive right now, so I feel pretty okay about it so far. The weather is beautiful and the campus is empty of all those annoying folks that would piss me off. There is no getting better than this really...minus being back in NYC, natch.

My week home was both full of action and not so much. I just realized that I didn't see a single friend while I was there, perhaps that's why it dragged sometimes. Sunday I decided I wanted to come back here ASAP just to be done already. I'm also planning to go to this party Friday -- I got an invite to a genuine hipster loft party in LIC (Long Island City, that is) by the most pretentious one I know, a January "buddy" of mine, hereby christened Mr. Scenester...okay, he's not the most pretentious, but definitely up there...then again, it could've just been my general guy hating mood back then. He's actually a nice enough guy and is like many of those scenesters, a dork in hip clothing. I grudgingly admire him though, because when he was my age (you know, 2 whole years ago), he'd taken NYC by storm and even gotten a page to himself in Paper's annual 100 Beautiful People issue. And he's making mad money, does cool things like throws parties and does really interesting political stuff and goes on really nice vacations. Meanwhile, I'm watching my bank account dwindle and am hoping some publishing company will make me their underpaid underling. Yet I'm talking shit about him? I'm wack. I need to ask him to hook me up with a job. Too bad I'm not a graphic designer like he is, but I know he has connections.

Anyhoo, I actually really liked him back in January (as much as I could have liked anyone being my crazy on the rebound self)...I thought he was so cool. He is cool but I have this bad habit of liking the boys I feel are too cool for me. That's definitely passing as I grow older thankfully. But, he was really pretentious and kinda condescending and annoying in that ultra-hipster way, all "I've done such wild and crazy things and I'm so out there. What have you done that's so out there? It's your turn to impress me now." Me being me, I didn't give a shit. It's not my job to prove my coolness to anyone and someone who has to flaunt their cred so hardcore is obviously overcompensating, you know? So, my feelings towards him are muddled, but I wrote a feeler email a few days before heading back to the city because let's face it, I have plenty of HS and Wes friends to hang out with, but I don't really know anyone else, so it's in my best interest to meet people early.

He replied practically the next day and I got a little jolt from that, but in my laziness, didn't get around to dropping a reply note. Color me surprised Friday night on Avenue A when I ran into him. It was a really funny thing because I’d just been strolling along minding my business, waiting for sidewalk congestion to clear up so I could go about my business and there he was passing me. I called out his name and we had a nice hug off to the side. We chatted for a min and he kinda called me out on the email. If I was the type to let things like that bother me, I would’ve been embarrassed, but umm…not really. He seemed really excited to see me which was kinda strange. And then he whipped out the invite and gave me one before heading off. Chill...I guess. I have zero expectations and I'm intrigued but not so interested. Back in January, he said that I reminded him of his sister (kiss of death as far as I'm concerned...not that it made a difference really) and I remember him as cheesy when it mattered. We'll see how it goes.

My friend Jay has a blog too. Biter...and she set up after slyly bleeding me for info. She's gangsta -- that's why we're friends. : ) All she needs now is a comments space and she'll be as cool as me...when enetation isn't being a pain in my ass. Que sera, sera. I'm off to be a layout machine and enjoy some nice web radio house music and a nice summerish breeze.

Home Report

I'm loving home. What have I done since I've been back?

Gone to H&M obsessively (sometimes more than one location in a day) though I haven't bought more than a belt, jeans (Hallelujah! Every pair I own -- and can fit -- seemed to be committing suicide all at once), and some earrings...yet. I go through phases with stores. Sometimes I love everything, sometimes I can't find a single article of clothing that will fit over my fat ass and I hate the place because of it. But, H&M is all good with me right now. I'm having a good body week, probably due to the Middletown Yearbook diet: 1) be so stressed that you're constantly forgetting to eat. 2) scarf down the nearest thing when your head is killing you because you're about to pass out. 3) Drink liquids like a man in a desert. 4) Watch the pounds melt away. Horrible, I know, but I've got some serious food/body issues and I've never been good at processing stress.

Last night I went to this cool party at Guernica. Brown people everywhere! I swear, especially coming from Wes, it's easy to forget how refreshing it ease to be in a party with mostly folks with melanin. Especially if the music isn't strictly hip hop. Also funny was that I could count on one hand the folks with straight hair. That's something. Everyone jokes about the trajectory of hair at Wes. Straight to natural/dreds/straight. I'm still in the natural state and it's nice to be affirmed. There's a whole bohemian network of color waiting for me. I love NY!

Escape

I have been liberated from Middletown.

I did about 60 pages to cover for what was lost and set the next deadline for the 16th and escaped. I haven't had time off in who knows when. Winter break, spring break, and the days since graduation have been totally consumed with this freaking book. I need a break, so I'm back in NYC. I've been strolling around for just under a day and I'm feeling so much better already. I'm planning on sticking around for a week or so, watching soaps, listening to music, sitting around the house like shlub all day, shopping, dancing up an storm for my nights, seeing friends, generally chilling the fuck out. All work and no play makes Candicissima stupendously miserable.

Here's to some minor debauchery and major relaxation...at least until next week when I go back to finish everything off.

Aurgh!

The grand total of damage is creeping past 50 pages. That stupid Mac just ate what I've spent all night doing. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? It's official...I really am never getting out of here.

Hipster Test

You are the Low-Fidelity All-Star. You were born
with your cool, and it's totally natural. You
run the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they
can ingest as much coffee as you) to the geeky
hipster (Mario Kart, anyone?).


What Kind of Hipster Are You?
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