Kitty Power

These Girls Are Smart

My blog has been stuck in breakdown limbo the past week and change. It figures that I don't actually have the urge to write until it was all fucked up. Hopefully everything's back to normal now. Here's a post that's been waiting impatiently for primetime:

A few months back, I went to the !!! show and the opening band was terrible. Actually, terrible is too nice of a word for their level of suckiness. It was a painful experience that I will always come to when I think of worst performances I've ever seen (up there with M.I.A. in Miami a year or two ago, but that had more to do with her crap songs than utter lack of everything). This group was basically made up of chicks dressed like Stephanie Tanner -- complete with side ponytails -- and their music was utter garbage. Listless atonal clamor with hipster posturing. No fucking thanks. So imagine my surprise when I got my weekly podcast download and song #2 sounded strangely familiar except, like, decent. I did some internets research and it was that same shit band shined into diamonds with a fucking good remix. And I've been listening to it all week…willingly! I hear there's a blizzard forecast in hell…

September is a good music month. On my radar, the free Battles show Friday (August 31st but close enough) at the Seaport (I even have the day off so I can avoid the working until shit late and missing the show predicament I usually find myself in trying to see something there.) (ETA: Went! And it ruled. More on that night to come later); GZA/Jamie Lidell @ McCarren Pool; The Sea and Cake (again) @ Warsaw; Fujiya & Miyagi @ Bowery Ballroom; and the old fan is considering checking out Underworld @ Central Park. It's fairly typical for me that I'm planning days to stay up late when I'm starting a new job in a couple of weeks. I'm moving from midtown to…midtown. Actually only going across town to the West Side where the food is at least 10x better. A girl can only eat so many sandwiches for lunch, Now I can eat hot food from the supermarket! Progress!

Rest Your Sad Head and Let That Shit Go

A moment of silence for Helga, my formerly indestructible HP that conked out on me. I had it about two months shy of 8 years, so I can't be mad and getting above and beyond my money's worth of it. I've been saving up for a shiny laptop for while and today I bought another HP tower that I'll pass along to my mom once I get my piggy bank ready for the laptop buy. A $400 computer was still lightyears away from what I've been working with all this time. Luckily, I've been slowly migrating my info to my external hard drive for a few months now, so no big info loss. I'm still vaguely confident that I can transfer settings, but it remains to be seen. That poor computer survived 8 years of moves, dust, good writing, bad writing, many IM conversations, angry emails, overlong blog posts, music downloads, and days and nights of overwork. The new computer clean slate feeling is kinda interesting. I feel like everything happening around/with me right now has something to do with salvaging the good pieces and/or rebuilding from the bottom. I don't mind really. Change is a very good thing.

The other week found me venturing into Midtown on a Saturday night. Very strange since the last thing I do when I leave it on Friday evening is clamor for more. I was off to check out this new to me band that I'd been digging for more info about. The show was in this art gallery, hidden in the shadows of office buildings and delis and theater row. The space was transformed into a maze with sculpture and writings decorating the walls. I wandered in, looking for the music that was promised to be at the end. I saw a band, not the one I was there looking for, sitting around and taking apart equipment. I looked at them, they looked at me, and wandered away. I came across this guy, looking like an antsy hipster complete with the shaggy hair, hoodie, and classic sneaks (shelltoes in this instance), and we struck up a stilted conversation as I asked where the refreshments were hiding. Our chatting would reoccur as the night passed. The place was on the miniature side. Three turns and you were either out the door or back where you started. I tried to wait patiently for everything (the set to start, the drink girl to replenish the supply, a lightning bolt to hit this girl who started some story with "not that I'm a racist, but..."), but mostly aimlessly walked around and around. That guy was from SC visiting for the week and one pass we talked about the upstate region and its little cities and towns. I felt a twang slip out and I missed my old summer trips for the quickest of seconds.

And then the band played, mostly acoustic with the music going low as the mike-less singer sang. I was mesmerized by the bass, all strings and neck. I stood in the corner on a bucket and tried to keep my balance and take a pic or two with my shitty camera phone. Almost at the end, there was competing noise from a sax player and drummer playing out front on the street. They wrapped up quick and suddenly and everyone ventured outside. The discordant noise brought down a tourist to complain about her lack of sleep. She walked about and fumed helplessly and everyone watched the showdown between her and the saxophonist amused. I used the lull to stroll off the next destination. There were no more fireworks to be had there that night.

I had a choice of parties to go to with one big possible drawback to them all. I was playing the shell game and trying not to be where The Boy could end up. But true to form, I paid my money and bought my first drink and looked to my left to see his friend and then him sitting there. Figures really. I kept to myself and this random I knew from the neighborhood where I used to work and he hovered around like the mosquito you can't quite kill and finally just ghost. I coped with the Long Island Iced Tea special and chugging to calm my nerves. Too bad my stomach wasn't so happy as time went on. I spent the next day at home lounging like Sheba and considered how fun it would be to live somewhere where my past wasn't always been thrown in my face.

Tuesday, I attempted to see a show by the old faves, but fatigue and the noxious crowd turned me back. Instead I went to the 2nd show of the week by Saturday's group. There again was that guy from SC. We had another strange conversation and he confessed that he was at the show for lack of a better option and stir crazy. I gave my condolences on that and perched myself by the bar hoping for a good watching angle. It was a good show again and I was happy that I got it together to see them. That guy had disappeared before the show was over. I hope he had a good trip.

Time Passages

I just realized that my blog is a few days over four years old. I usually pay more attention to the actual domain anniversary, but there's something about it this time around that has me a little amazed that it's been a good while. If this was my baby, it'd be on its way to school or something. I'm kinda itching for an overhaul. Most of the links are dead and I would like a color overhaul. We'll see if I have the time.

It's funny to read back at shit I've written even six months ago, so four years time is ridiculous. I definitely wouldn't be a tenth as open nowadays and I'm amused that the posts got way wordier at time went on. I'm still dealing with most of the same shit though. The more things change, the more they stay the same and all.

So who was I? Candicissima a.k.a. Candice. 22. Pisces. High-strung, conflicted, college graduate as of May 25th ('03), NYC born and raised, unemployed, writer, urban bohemian at heart, social butterfly, music junkie, scatterbrain, dreamer, crafty, intellectual, sarcastic, melancholy, passionate, idealistic, explorer.

And now? Candicissima a.k.a. Candice. 26. Pisces. Striving for zen and balance, NYC dwelling, cog in the advertising machine, realist, individualistic, explorer, music junkie, social observer, creative, clever, and a lapsed writer.

Still hope I'm keeping it interesting as the time goes on.

Every Day Is Saturday Night

I'm annoyed. (A quick aside, I often think how fun it would be to have some Movable Type hack – yes, I am a blog nerd, And what? – where you could have mood displays a la Live Journal. And then I think, well first of all, my mood would usually be annoyed, so it'd just be redundant. And also, I can save that for my real LJ where I can go on and on and on in private and non-cryptically. So, this is a dumb aside basically. My prerogative. Whatevs.)

It's a shame I'm salty because things are really not bad. My new favorite pastime is podcasts by East Village Radio, Stones Throw, and XLR8R. New to me – or even, memory jogging – music is always good in my book. Hours and hours of fun that is. The weather is nice, really nice. I had a good weekend split between much needed rest and reconnecting with folks. Brunch and a nice stroll through the nabe even fit in there. I saw a fun show by Kenna
last week at the new Luna Lounge and had the loveliness that is an Iona cider. I ran into one of the few Wes kids who it isn't (that) painful to see and I had a funny text convo with Justin when I got fooled by hisdoppelganger. He said he was at PB&J and I was confused about that until...er, about 20 minutes ago. I'm so out of the loop with what the kids are listening to nowadays.

Anyway, I think it's just one of those states where the good is awesome and the bad fucking pisses me off. The problem (if it can even be called that) stems from being a little too focused right now. I had myself on overdrive and did what I had to do, so now it's like I'm in that mode and I don't know if it's worth it to slip out. I feel like my game has been elevated and now I don't want to go back. Still, I know there's a significant amount of fun missing. I just feel stiff or something. I guess that's to be expected. It's been a big two months for me. So, I'm just a bit restless and impatient. I don't have it in me to wait around and hope I make square pegs fit in round holes. I'm tired of settling
and being jerked around. That's how I spent most of the past three years at the wrong jobs and being with the wrong people and spending too much time feeling bad. I'm not exactly sure what I want, just that Ihaven't found it yet. Clear as mud, eh?

I'm On It

Er, so I really fixed the comments this time. Sorry to Alafairnadia and the creatively named theglow@shonuffizabeeatch.com for the rejection. Re-comment away!

It's a fucking scorcher in the city. 110 heat index for today and Wednesday. Utterly brutal! Needless to say, the bike is staying at home until it has passed. I'm really not trying to pass out from heat stroke in the middle of Fulton St or something.

To all those who've expressed their concern over the past post: eh, you know me. It's usually all doom and gloom cryptic-cakes, but not for the reasons you'd think or as bad as I made it out to be. It's mostly all good. Minus the fact August is going to be a really financially tight month for me. No Chicago trip. Sorry, Trendvickster and David! But, guess who's getting lean and mean? Try the girl who lives on the top of a hill and has to carry her bike up four flights of stairs!

Weirdness of the week: I inadvertantly got the urge to check up on Farmer and I found out that he's like buddies (at least photographically) with my favorite Soda waitress. No way! Why he can't be friends with the bitch we all hate who almost got her ass handed to her last week? Ugh. He's tainting everything!

We're very much on Ghostly's jock right now (and so is XLR8R!) ...and in a parallel aside, if you can identify this DJ (we suspect Bodycode cause that's what we think we heard at that party), you might be my new best friend. ETA: It's Adam X. Music critics are good for something after all! We should've known better to listen to an idiot tripping off Sparks. He did play Bodycode though, if I'm not mistaken. Speaking of that party, it was fun as hell and kids were even dancing. But the obscene amounts of alcohol might have helped with that. I even quipped: "since when do fucking hipsters like techno?" That is the question of the summer.

Believe it or not, someone called me "Candizzle" yesterday and my head didn't explode. I only made a half-hearted threat of bodily harm even. While smiling. Ugh. I'm getting soft in my old age. I'm such a sucker for a pretty face.

Pardon The Interruption

Comments are back to normal, thanks to Jay-V decoding the coding shit I couldn't wrap my tired brain around. Dope!

Tech Crap

Just a note: I've updated to MT 3.2, so if things are a bit buggy, let me know. Back to my goofing off, already in progress.

The Management.

A Little Behind But Spring Cleaning

Since I was tired of being taunted by my ever-expanding list of links when I didn't update for a min, I've revamped that whole side. Links can now be found here where you can marvel at my Dreamweaver shoddiness. And as soon as I figure out how to set it up, I'm gonna do a side blog thingy for links and such. Aren't I just special?!

Oh, the projects you can come up with when you're too lazy to clean your apartment!

Two Years and Counting

Two years ago today, my little procrastination tool is still here. I started off talking about the silly things I was up to and shouting my frustrations to far away friends. Now, it's been pretty much the same -- though occasionally a little too emo for my tastes. It's been a fun ride and shall hopefully continue on. My little KP is two! (Does that make the blog a toddler now?)

Since it's becoming a sort of a yearly tradition, I'm still Candicissima. 24. Music junkie. Jaded New Yorker. Social explorer. Hater and a lover. Aspirant. Temperamental. In transition.

Let's hope the next 365 are even more interesting.

I Got No Time For Rearviews

It's that time of the year/quarter/month for the ultra serious, disclaimerrific type post. I'm sure it'll be of little interest to most.

I too often forget I'm not in a vacuum. I don't want to accept that it's not May '03 and no one that I haven't know forever/have never seen is reading this. I forget that everything I write has to be stripped of any resemblance/reference to people I actually interact with. (I can remember that in case of the job because it's as simple as I can't afford to be fired and I'm not trying to be assed out like that.) I let this place get a little ungauzy and then get all paranoid/annoyed checking out the traffic/activity log. Then comes the further stripping of meaning until I chafe and say "fuck it, it's mine! I'll write what I want!" More scrutiny and paranoia. Rinse and repeat.

I seriously don't get what strangers are interested in. The misadventures of an early 20something, foul-mouthed, narcissistic, self-important, self-deprecating, undermining, usually unhappy underachiever powered by booze, money, music, and NYC. (Actually, fuck that, I'd read that shit too!) I mean, it's me but it's not me at the same time. Words on a screen may be less than the sum of the parts -- or greater if a snapshot of the wrong time got thrown up there. I'm not completely mental because this is the wide open internet and all, but I do scratch my head looking at the super specific activity log results and wonder what the hell someone(s) are looking for. Is it sheer nosiness? Vanity searches perhaps? Here's the scoop: I fucked them all. Any further questions?

Writing like I do leaves me open to getting my feelings hurt a lot. I obviously take myself rather seriously (sometimes), so I was semi-traumatized by the outing because it's not like this is so high-profile that it gives me some sort of pleasure to be known as "that blog girl." I've killed a few budding things -- mostly inadvertantly, rarely passive-aggressively -- because they read something vaguely referencing them and it made them angry. I'm also not so far up my own ass that I can't tell when I'm being downright like a bull in the china shop but sometimes I just roll with it. Those situations in general make me sad, but I think somewhere deep down I knew this outlet/ego feeder would last longer for me than they did passing through. I think I've gotten a lot better at protecting identities but that's always up for interpretation.

As Bill and I were discussing the other day, bloggers are fucked up. We think we're all so important because strangers are constantly checking to see what new thing we have to say. I know a shrink would make a pretty penny just off my surface neuroses. Then again, everyone's fucked up. I think I dealt with more crazies pre-blog because at least now they know beforehand if they can deal with another drama queen in the relationship. The blame goes both ways usually, but I'm good for the "you read this, so you think you know me? Let me show you how you don't!" Luckily, this is totally a useful tool because I can crossreference dumbass mistakes I've made with a few keystrokes.

I'd say about 75% of the life passes through here but there's plenty of stuff that will never ever be referenced. It would probably explain a lot of the downright bipolar postings if I did, but that's neither here nor there. It is what is though and so am I, I suppose. But, this current incarnation of the blog is fucking weird and I think I'll be tinkering.

Objects In The Mirror

There are some things that I have learned to dread over the past year and change: "I read your blog" coming out of the wrong mouth. Well, not necessarily wrong per se, but someone random that probably then wants to go on to nitpick with me. Despite all the growth and changes, I write this little space for Alex and Jay-V and PrincessNella and Trendvickster and Fizzie and Wes/HS far-flung peeps and the new folks I've met along the way. Not for you, Persons Mysterious who keep obsessively searching out info on the old entanglements. (I see you. It's annoying. Knock it off.) I write on the web because I'm a fucking nerd and I want to. But, it's not the definitive Candice, just the briefest of snapshots.

If you read this blog, you'll notice that I'm fond of words and words and more words and the occasional picture four times a year. I hate things and I'm not afraid to say it. But unwillingly, I've learned to censor myself and skim over many details because I can -- and have-- gotten annoyed with the random Googling that leads to "ohmigod, I saw you talking about me on your blog, so now I plan to read it all the time." Most of the feelings and episodes that seem to be traumatic mostly cease to matter about 30 minutes after I polish off a post about it. I'm not as much of a vain/shallow/self-serious/trendoid/lazy/snobbish/substance abuser/obnoxious bitch as I may appear in my posts, but I always reserve the right to be a fucked up individual in real life. Candicissima "Candice" Nassapeemadalon is a tweaked persona, but the episodes are a collection of facts. If you've passed through one of my episodes, you might have been mentioned (or not). Name checks are not necessarily indicative of anything but me typing you in with the rest. But if you get called out, and what? Don't wasting my time bugging me about it.

If you're searching for some sort of insight into my emotional state or brain, you're barking up the wrong tree. It's fairly obvious what needs to be taken at face value or not. The bubbly black girl is at that blog down the road. I pride myself on being a little more...complicated. This is a glorious hobby and a bit of a muscle flexing. Getting bent out of shape is for the birds. As are disclaimers. But you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes.

I Wasn't Kidding

Don't be alarmed. I'm on an updating frenzy -- which will probably end now that I mentioned it. Ah well.

New music on the mp3 page. Shill alert! Shill alert!

You Snooze, You Lose

In a big further "fuck off" to spammers, I'm trying to close comments on all posts 15 days or older with the curently proving impossible mt-close. What am I doing wrong???I fixed it. I'm so smart and shit.

And I'm working on blogging for real, dammit. I swear. Don't yell at me. And I so did too. Where's my cookie???

Rage!

I currently hate MT because I had a brilliant, droll, but most importantly, long(!!!) post that I had written and was saving when it bounced me back to the main screen. Having lost all those fucking words.

Deep. Goddamn. Breaths.

I'll be back with that and other stuff when the urge to smack my computer with a hammer passes.

ETA: Welcome vistors from Matos' site! Yes, this is just about how interesting it gets around here. Thanks for coming. Don't press that back button so fast. You might hurt yourself.

And since I've got a public forum, anyone know any cute single real estate brokers so I can kill two birds with one stone? Just kidding...sorta.

I Confess

I supposed it's just because I've realized that my one year blogiversary is on Saturday, but I've been reflecting on this whole webspace/writing thing. I'm sure all the words on here could've written about 3 novels. It's been a good run so far.

I think it's interesting that

A) I've stuck with this so long and got so obsessive that I went out and bought the domain -- plus have it almost filled to capacity with stuff (though the mp3s have more to do with that)
B} sometimes it seems like everyone and their mom has a blog
C) I've met so many people through this whether fellow bloggers and/or just readers
D) I don't think I'll ever get used to someone referring to me as Candice Kittypower, though I've taken that naming practice into real life
E) despite having so many words about myself and what I do on here, I never fail to be surprised when someone references something I've put up or say that they read it.

Wednesday night was hilarious because the just about the first thing out of Ryan Man Man's mouth when we sat down was: "so, I hear you have a problem with my moustache?" "Wha?" I feigned. "I never said anything like that." "Kate said you did. She said she read it on your blog -- whatever that means." In case you don't want to work your way through that old megapost, the incriminating piece in question was:

My highlight was this group Man Man (aka Magic Blood aka Gamelon) from Philly, that seemingly appeared out of nowhere to be a B-52s/Talking Headsesque colossal bit of wonderfulness. They've got a fucking xylophone! It's two keyboardists and two percussionists, but everyone also plays percussion too. Dude, they've got a song where the chorus is "Meow Meow." Man Man can have all my kids. I'm in love. But, we'll only consummate after the singer guy cuts that damned poor excuse for a moustache off.

And despite what some may think, there's so much self-censoring going on around here. Isn't it almost scary to imagine that these long posts of "I went here did this, then that, blah blah 2500 word narratives" are only part of the story half the time? I try to leave out the parts of episodes that make me appear to be insane, a n____o (let's not give the p0rn seekers any leads, shall we?), a step away from rehab, too misanthropic, and/or the dumbest girl alive, but believe me, there's a lot of shit packed into those long posts. Sometimes I throw in really scandalous shit about 3/4 in because I know y'all don't really read all of that. Not blatantly of course, but it's in there. Or maybe I'm just fucking with you. You tell me.

There's been plenty of days when I want to talk some serious shit, but I know that person might read this, so I save it for the journal. Like Saturday, there was this party where P. Friendster and I ran around boozing it up for real. (Poor P. He tried to match me drink for drink, but felt that shit the next morning. I've got a pickled liver. I can go about my day and be alright, so me in the moment is no real judge.) Now, I'd like to talk about the party, but I'm kinda torn. It was thrown by a friend K (who I seriously need to hang out with more) who greeted me with a "Miss Kittypower" which really threw my shit off. I'm tempted yet not gonna get all into the stuff that happened at the party -- especially not how I got cockblocked and am still bugged by that -- except I just did, but that's so vague that it's almost meaningless.

It took almost a year but it's kinda like a science.

Resurrection

What a difference some sleep makes! I feel like a whole new person. My death cough has lessened considerably, I've stopped aching, and I'm feeling all fresh faced again. The wonderful side effect of running a breakneck insane schedule is losing a little weight because I was too busy/poor to eat. I'm fitting into shit that's been off limits for like a year and shit. Dope!

Of course staying in on Friday wasn't that bad. I really haven't seen much of the inside of the house for a while. And the cat was so happy to see me. I give the best rubs. She knows it. I spent the most of the weekend pottering around the house, being all domestic and doing laundry, answering emails and other computer stuff that's been neglected, and writing because my new article is on the late side (oops!).

On the computer front, I'm back! Volunteering has wrapped up and after Monday's "thanks for volunteering, now get drunk and eat on us" party (actually that day is gonna be pretty awesome. We're getting a catered lunch at the job too. This is truly a "it's good to be Candice" week.), I'm free...until Summerstage starts if they take me. I again recommend volunteering to everyone out there. Free shit like a mofo! I've got a collection of stuff which I'll be rocking to the extreme all summer. I've really missed posting and I've finally realized the optimum times for doing that being that I'm just a dork and all. So, I'll be averaging (hopefully) a post a day (or perhaps a few megas a week because I truly do hate it when the links are longer than the content) again soon enough. Sit tight.

Just A Thought

In a truly ironic turn of events, I'm considering starting a new blog. Isn't that cute? I can't even update this one besides a manic typing jag every couple of days.

Anyways, the topic: fashion, nightlife and the city scene. Basically, the expanded edition of the In The Mix category without the code names and dim allusion to what I get up to but don't blog about. Minimal me really. I'm kicking it around. We'll see if I can keep the initiative long enough to do some test posts.

Technical Difficulties

I've been quiet the past couple of days because my MT decided to mysteriously break...the fact I was over my disk space due to having mad mp3s on my music page (*hint, hint*) didn't help. Hopefully, all is well now. I'm mad backlogged too. It's all about keeping y'all occupied on a Monday morning. Kitty Power's all about the workers, man.

Principles Before Personalities

A post earlier at Gothamist riled me up in a way that hasn't happened since the last time I had to riff. To start, I call bullshit on Jake Dobkin, but I'll get back to that later.

The main crux of the argument is the lines between professional bloggers and hardcore blogging hobbyists (with the casual bloggers bringing up the rear). Blogs are hot in the media. News stories are all around trying to explain what it's all about and break it down for easy to digest morsels for people. People blogging about whatever can find themselves pulled up in Google and quoted in an article. If you wanted to get some fame (or infamy), there's no time greater than the present. With a little luck and ambition, you could be Elizabeth Spiers!...or so they would like people to believe.

I'm not going to lie and say that I don't operate this blog with some sort of ulterior motives. I am a writer (who doesn't write nearly enough) and I use this to sharpen my skills and stay fresh until I figure out where I want to go. But, this is a hobby. A semi-expensive hobby compared to when I was just on Geocities or Blogspot, but regardless my blog is still mostly what I've intended it to be since I started with the web stuff in 2000 -- a space so my friends and the occasional other can see what I'm thinking and for me to do little experiments. I've got my niche and I'm happy in it. I'm not trying to usurp any of the names bandied about when the quarterly "who's who in the blogosphere" article comes out. I do this because I like it and frankly, I know they've got way more dedication to this than I do.

I was amazed at the conversation going on in the comments at Gothamist where Jake demands that all bloggers reveal themselves and stand behind their names with their writing. That's the most sanctimonious piece of shit I've ever read. Hence, why I call bullshit on him. If we're going to be really honest, Gothamist is like the Disney of blogs. "Hey, guys, we're on a hunt for some good ribs!" "We went to Olive Garden!" "We love us some Law and Order!" There is nothing remotely edgy or controversial that ever occurs on those pages. It's vanilla, it's non-threatening, a snark-free zone. And that's okay. It's a clearinghouse for information on the happenings in NYC, nothing more and nothing less. Not everywhere can be tongue-in-cheek with a razor-sharp wit like most other blogs of note. But, apparently, Jake has forgotten that fact. If all I was writing about was food and what went on in the papers everyone else read, I could put my name up here too, as could a lot of other bloggers. With some obvious exceptions, it's not even that hard to figure out who most of us are. Most definitely follow the common sense rule that if it's something that could damage us, it need not be posted -- at least not in its entirety.

To have your name on your blog leaves you open not only for your employers to see what you've been up to, but relatives, ex-friends and lovers, future employers, stalkers and all sorts of other riff raff who can go fuck themselves. But, besides that, it's totally inhibiting if you want to create an online persona to accompany your blogged exploits.

The true final word on the matter is: there are no blogging rules, especially if you're someone who has gone out and bought a domain and are operating your own shit on your own time. The operating procedures are different for every blog and person. Now, someone go remove Jake's head from his ass.

Off The Cuff

And apparently obvious...along with "apparently"...wins the crown as my most overused word lately. Sheesh. I told you my brain was atrophying. You probably thought I was kidding, right?

Off to find synonyms or at least not be surprised/annoyed enough to have to state the...you know what.

In other news, new songs in the music section. If you don't know, now you know...

Tracker Roundup

*sing songy voice* I know where y'all work! I know where y'all work!

I'm glad to see I'm like a go to person for the definition of haterade. That's cool I guess. And someone needs to transcribe the lyrics to White Horse already. I don't have them, folks, but thanks for visiting.

(Confidential to whomever is searching for Shady related content: unless you are him, what's the deal? Confidential to a former college person: Jay-V and I both see you. Try linking directly, so it's at least less obvious.)

Status

Did I really say I planned to redesign everything by today? Ho ho ho...just kidding! We're a go by New Year's thoughNah, forget it. I'm kinda attached to this template now that I've got the logo. It's all I ever wanted really. And as an extra special treat, I'm unveiling the new music section. It really is Christmas, eh?! Download responsibly!

And MT is being kinda annoying to me. There's been about 3 things I've published only to find hours later that they haven't showed up. Hmm...irritating. Which led to automated hilarity from weblogs:

Thanks for the ping, however we can only accept one ping every half-hour. It's cool that you're updating so often, however, if I may be so bold as to offer some advice -- take a break, you'll enjoy life more.

Meanwhile, I'm tinkering with the logo. I apparently got some Photoshop skills for XMas, so I'm experimenting while I know how.

Back In Business

*stretch* That was a lovely blog vacation...not that I haven't still been on the comp screwing around. It was definitely kept to a minimum though. I've got a few big posts on deck. A fresh roundup, a few gasfaces to put on shout, my fave music from 2003 since everyone else seems to be doing that sort of thing, and a spanking new category to seperate the truly offline concerns from specific complaining.

But, maybe later. Right now, I'm on a Tiger hunt.

Yeah I'm So Special

Go take a look at Jay's new template. I did that. Well, not made it up, but I put it in. And my head didn't explode. And it didn't even take that long. I'd revamp my own stuff, but I'm still kinda into the basic template over here. Meanwhile, I'll be breaking my arm patting myself on the back. Don't mind me.

Editorial Decisions

There's this post I've been chewing on -- besides the oft-forgotten adventures in North Brooklyn one -- that I was all set to post, but I'm currently re-editing. Why mention it? Just to put out there that though some posts may seem -- and are -- off the cuff, every old rant doesn't make the cut. So, I'm tinkering and it should probably be up later.

In other news, it's cold. And I think I've overloaded on beef and cheese for the time being, though I didn't believe it was possible. The thought of a cheeseburger makes me want to throw up about now. And I'm still broke. And still want things. But, I'm working from a masterplan finally and that makes me happy. I've nested into the homestead and finally started unpacking and putting things on the wall like I really live here. I've also set February 1st as a move date and am tentatively planning a birthday extravaganza at Sapph. I've been list making and trying to visualize some goals for a change. I've had a good run being all blase, living a step in front of chaos, but it like everything has become tired. Structure is more than necessary about now.

The Tracker Knows

Someone on Friendster is cheating. I put in my profile that I had a blog, but I neglected to link it because who needs randoms on your site. Scratch that...randoms who you have no interest in. It's like if I actually gave out my numbers to those undesirables on the street. There's just no logical reason for it. Anyhoo, someone's been googling "Friendster blog Candice" and the like. Blah. The girl would give half a point for being proactive, but not so much when they can't even leave a comment. It's like being back at stalker-friendly Wes or something. I can also see randoms from Wes checking in too. I'm just saying. You know who you are.

And also, my home net is down. Phone jack directly over the base heater + full blast of heat coming out of the radiator as the boiler gets started up for winter = fucked up wires in the box that the phone company has to come out and fix. *sigh* We're in Day 2 of the no phone, no net saga. All I gotta say is cell phones and net cafes/libraries floats this girl's boat. If I could figure out how to plug my cell into my comp for net access, even better. Ah well. I'll post when I can.

Out And About

So, I'm experimenting with pics and such. I dunno how I feel about it. (In an aside: How much does the MT Search feature rock?! If I had to go through posts line by line fixing/looking for stuff, my brain would've exploded. I'm a fucking wordy ass. Blocks and blocks of texts. How can people read this shit? Hurts my own eyes!) I'm in the mood for a redesign truthfully, but lazy this week despite having not much better else to do. I just don't have any ideas in my head besides where I might be able to find pipe cleaners for my Halloween costume and how I might survive while waiting for my big check to come through the mail. If I don't get that check, I might have to postpone my big trip. Oy. Especially since I've got a bunch of interviews next week and I might just fall on the sword and take one of those jobs even though it's not exactly what I finally decided I wanted. Oy. The window of opportunity is closing...closing...closing. That neat little patch of luck I've been on lately is about to run out.

Last night, I went to a movie premiere, courtesy of a girl I met via Saturday night's randomness. I can say that this guy held the door for me as I fumbled coming in out of the rain to pick up my ticket. So nice of him and he's freakishly tall. Strange for the entertainment types. They tend to be my height or shorter...which we already established isn't that tall, but taller than Jay and apparently Bazima (yeah, those were totally pings for the hell of it). The movie is too funny and my favorite quote had to be "I've got luggage tags on that 11-inch cock!" Tee hee. You gotta see it to understand, man.

We even went to the super swanky after party where a girl in our group on the Atkins encouraged me to have some dessert for the both of us. Since I was doing it for "us," I had some cheesecake and carrot cake that were both so wonderfully delicious that I couldn't even feel guilty. My pants couldn't even hate on them because it was that good. I was later amused by Grandmastah H, the anointed Player President, turned timid by the sight of the movie's star. She's a cool actress, but she was wearing the most unfortunate dress this side of Paris Hilton. I wanted to shake her and say, "Sweetie, even with practically no boobs...if you've gonna wear something slit down to your navel, you better sticky tape those babies to perky at least." Sagging just isn't cute under any circumstances. In conclusion of this episode: Candicissima loves free movies, parties and drinks and the occasional star sighting. I've got eyes like a hawk and never forget a face, so I recognized him, him, and her without much trouble. And could say what they were from to my wholly uninterested group members. Ah well. Someone can appreciate that. I hear Gawker needs a flunky intern. I could do that. Gladly actually. Hmm...that's an idea...

Anyhoo, tonight was Aida with PrincessNella. We sat so high that I almost experienced vertigo, but it was a good time. Minus some of the downright painful score. Soft rock with a musical? Umm...no. I could smell Elton John all over it...and I even like some his old stuff. But, the middlebrow elevator music with a bit of a guitar kickin some parts...eek. Regardless, Ms. Star sang her ass off as did the rest of the cast and the staging and sets were cool even if I did never forget it was a strictly Disney affair. I'm dying to see Avenue Q. Everything I've heard makes it sound too funny.

I'm most definitely gearing up for Friday. It's gonna be nuts...that's for sure. Did you know that the next time Halloween's gonna be on a weekend (besides next year which'll be Sunday) is 2008? Yeah...Ant wasn't so impressed either. Ah well. There will definitely be a major dispatch about that night after it all goes down. Should be a good one.

Yeah, I'm Cool...

Yeah, I really spent my Friday night napping and fixing archives links (or at least trying to since Blogger was being a useless bitch alll night) and hanging out around the house in a tank and fuzzy pants. I'm so cool I can't stand it. Geez.

Yet, I don't feel so bad because Saturday will be off the chain. I'm off to help with the pre-setting up for this potentially awesome Halloween Extravaganza in LIC, spearheaded by Mr. Scenester and the folks with Complacent. Their last event I went to and it was pretty hot, so I can encourage everyone to check it out. I've also got my Flavorpill spoils concert and CMJ events to do up here. Oh, I actually did try to go to that show during lunch Thursday, but you know, not having a pesky pass stopped me. Wackness, especially since I was all up in the hotel and about a room away from them. I heard them though and they were excellent. I considered getting bent out of shape and then I realized that a) I was only trying in case I got smiled on and did get to see them b) I wasn't really that involved -- they're not my fave band or anything even if they're cool -- so it was no sweat c) I didn't actually have a pass because I'm too poor for that shit, so it wasn't in my best interest to make a scene. So, I went back to work and it was all good. (Speaking of that, shit! Why aren't they doing free crap sales when I'm in the bleeping building?! Damn.) Anyhoo, P. Diddy is coming to town and Grandmastah H is having a gathering. And there might be something else I forgot. Damn, I'm popular! So, I guess I am cool though I'm being lame tonight. I'm resting up for tomorrow...yeah, that's it...

Just Curious

In looking at my tracker, I'm noticing that a lot of people are coming here from kittypower.com. What's up with that? Because it's weird that people would end up there where there is purposefully nothing. Will someone -- anyone -- enlighten me?Well, call me Nancy Drew because I figured it out. Oh please, Mr. Catchdubs, fix your link! And I'm seeing why you had that bandwidth overload because people are coming over here every 5 minutes practically. LOL.

Bad Sign

A sign that the new site/layout was driving me totally insane: For the past two nights, I've been dreaming about HTML code. Sheesh.

A New Start

Here I am in my new home. A million thanks going out to Dean for giving me the last push to make this move and the technical support to make it happen. I've got so much work to do in moving my archives over and trying to make all of this a lot more spiffy. But, it's a start. Welcome to a new era.

Browsing The Tracker

Looking at my tracker, I've got to admit I'm dying to know who's taking a look at this from SUNY-Plattsburgh, Canada, and the UK. I sent the link to folks in France myself, so that's no surprise. Say hi, people! And whoever keeps googling and the like "Candicissima" and "Kitty Power," stop it! I can seeeee you! LOL.

I'm currently in the middle of making my new cyberhome nice and cozy. Wish me luck on weeding my way through all the instructions!

This talk about jello cocktails...

This talk about jello cocktails has me reminiscent about freshman year with Jay when we were the hardcore jello shot eaters and no one else could hang. Good times. Jay, it looks like a place we have to go!

I'm feeling sort of creative lately. I think I'm going to reinvent Scenestress as an NYC specific travels/experiences essays sort of thing. I'm also going to add some my old site pre-blog posts to here (if I can). But all of that might be moot since I'm considering taking this guy up on his offer. But, money's kinda tight since I've got so many things I want to invest in. For a change, I'm not spending recklessly. I'm considering joining a gym because when even my Virtual Fit girl is looking like a hippy hippy hippo, I've had enough Double Cheeseburger Value Meals. I always forget that my genetic makeup has me predestined to expand outwards unless I'm up on that. I don't do enough right now to make my former "oh look, I keep forgetting to eat and lost 10 lbs!" methods work. For that, I have to be either hyperstressed/pressured or broke yet out and about. Being that I'm pretty chill, relatively settled down in something or another and not really up to anything, my bottom half is spinning out of control. Some Pilates will fix my fat ass...hopefully.

Why Blog?

Stupid Blogger lost yesterday's hurried post. Grr. Coming soon after I marinate on it a little bit more, The Interview Game.

Strange week this has been. Being busy is a great cure for driving silliness out of your head. I'm becoming a phone interviewing BS master. I've got two go-tos set up for next week plus a briefing meeting for that project that's going to have me living it up in October. I was telling PrincessNella that despite essentially wanting a full-time thing (I suppose, I'm becoming wishy-washy on that even. I'm such a slacker), what I have going right now is the best of both worlds. I've got plenty of time sitting home, watching TV, taunting people at work over IM that I'm doing nothing yet a few times a week, I put on my responsible face, go off to work, and most importantly get a paycheck. Work, being highly overrated, sucks and I can't say I'm really looking forward to the "9-5" (which really is so much than that in most industries I'm interested in) except for the more money part. Then again, who cares if I have more money when I'm worn out from the week? More money means more things, more responsibilities. Between paying off my student loans, moving out and then paying rent, internet, utilities, etc, the long overdue presents to myself, and trying to save a little something, I'll be just as broke as I was a month ago but in a different venue. Screw the rat race.

Amusing me the past month or so is the reemergence of the "girly" side. I suppose I'm typically a no-nonsense, cynical, universally underwhelmed sort of person, but when I like someone, it's different. It opens up all sorts of psychological cans of worms, mostly because I like being able to plan and proceed based on an arbitrary yet semi-logical Candice system, but dealing with romantic repercussions usually throws that out the window. I find myself thrown so far off balance, everything like a rollercoaster. Simultaneously tired and exhilarated. It's kinda fascinating once it's passed and I can process, but in the mix it scares me shitless. My "girly" side isn't about me wanting to dress up and be pretty or that stuff, it's a mental thing. Me trying to fit myself into a the paradigm of being a woman dealing with a man in the relationship sense on a "I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her" tip (hopefully without having to ask), while trying to work out ways to incorporate my philosophies and history without bumping up against a wall. Trying to navigate that treacherous path has me super edgy and that's why I've been spouting out strange self-doubting stuff in the middle of everything else because I'm constantly thinking and rethinking what to do or not to, as the case may be. What I've been devoting a personally sickening amount of time turning over in my head is: why do some guys just drop off the face of the earth for a couple of days, then reappear like it's nothing? It drives me completely insane. Mr. Sailor got dumped for that -- among a heap of other reasons, but that amplified everything else. Surprisingly, I'm not a needy sort of person. I'm all about doing my own thing and having a separate life, but I just need the check-in. Just my quirk. Jay and I were talking about the rules I should put in place for a him and myself. Way up there has to be not mentioning the blog for at least a month. She was completely against it, but the blog is pretty big part of knowing me. All my friends read it and if I'm spending some serious time with someone, they're missing a major part of me. But the main thing is I spend a fair amount of time referring to it, so after a month it's gonna be way too glaring for me not to have shown it to him already. I started it for the laziness factor. I just got sick of telling people the same story over and over again or back when I told people selective things for whatever reason, not remember who was what and not wanting to have to backtrack. So, the blog's a basic Candice reference. The really juicy stuff is for offline or at least IM.

Song of the week

My favorite sound of the week: the pop-up blocker laying the smackdown on pesky windows.

I've been trying to think of a song for this week. I'm not in any sort of music mood yet. I've been listening to a few things, but only when I wake up and then trying to go back to sleep because 7:30 doesn't agree with me. Despite my complaints about feeling musically disconnected, it's been a great music summer -- though I've barely bought anything and my former new music connections -- my old radio show and fast downloading speeds -- are both gone now. I'm still loving Donnie's album. Great shit. And his live show was amazing.

Anyhoo, I've decided: the song of the week is: Blue Six, "Beautiful Tomorrow."

Currently sucking my nut

Currently sucking my nut. It's trying in vain to get me but it's not going to happen. I don't open any file I didn't previously know was being sent. I'm not crazy. Take that, you crap ass virus!

Link fixing

I fixed Jay's link because she thought it meant I didn't love her. That's not true, natch. I'm just an HTML retard.

Randomness Abound

I'm taking a break from the emotional garbage to break into why I've got the strangest luck of anyone I know. This morning, I was off to be a good girl and you know, get my slacker ass working by heading to my interview at a temp agency. I was looking all spiffy though, damn, 9am looks like hell on me. I get to the place and I go through my "yeah, I'm looking for publishing and PR, but mostly whatever" shpiel and all is going well. The lady throws something out about a contract job for a month starting tomorrow and I'm all "that sounds great." (Jumping up and down on the inside, natch) But, then she's all "what are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?" I say "nothing," because what is there really but soaps and the net at home with the cats in my sweats on a weekday? She sends me off to go work at Gawker's favorite publishing corporation, where I basically delivered crap and rode around in the company car. Totally sweet. And I even saw that supposed Prada wearing devil herself with her death-ray eyes. I don't think magazine work is for me really. Every boss seems to be a "I wanted it done like an hour ago" high strung type and the chicks are all strutting around in some serious (yet gorgeous) stillettos. But, I like the fashion business casual thing. I could rock that. Maybe I'll go back tomorrow, maybe not. 'Twas interesting. And I even made a friend that reminded me of someone I know (school folks: think our favorite Wes party starter boy). But personally, the best part was the making money. I hope they keep calling me with shit to do because next Thursday is the "Candice has officially let go of school and gotten on with her life" get-together, funded by yours truly after her shopping spree buying a new burner for Helga. My poor baby can't deal.

Tracker Roundup

So, I've been tracking my site stats for a minute now -- actually, about three weeks -- and I figured I'd be like everyone else and have a "guess what strange Google search led to my site!" session. Mr. KT and I were rolling on the floor the other day because someone came to my little blog under the guise of searching for a "blow job blog." Not once, but twice! Damn, can't a girl tell a couple stories involving her drunken bragging about her oral prowess without getting typecasted on the web? Geez... Cry me a river, right?

There's the unsurprising "friendster supernode" (600K+ and counting, mofo!), "pretty kitty parties," and "freaking grinding clubbing." I can't argue with those. I'm mildly puzzled by "list of colleges with adidas endorsement deals" and "adidas commercial shawty," because do I even mention my sneaks? I'm mildly amused by "deftones screaming kitty" and "badonkadonk." What's up with "pretentious moi pedantic i?" For the record, I'm all for welcoming someone who has sought out "Kangol wearing super star tshirt having brown scenester princess" because that shouldn't lead to anyone but me.

To pass the time...

To pass the time, I volunteered to transcible lyrics for a fave site of mine. This is shit hard. I would pick to try to decipher the man whose whole style is breathy mumbles. Sam, I love you! But I hate you today. Pronounce your words, dearest! Like I'm the person to talk, right, Jay?

The Future Is Now...

I hereby launch The Scenestress Chronicles, my new blog dedicated to New York City after dark and all the adventures that can and do happen. It'll be jammed packed with my reviews, retorts, carousing, and exploits with an R rating because whatever happens out there isn't necessarily tame. I'll even post the parties catching my interests plus how to get on lists and etc. Think of Scenestress as the web archive of what will ultimately compile the Cheapskate (Read: Poor) Young Singleton's Guide to New York City -- without all that useless shit like spas and yoga specials. Not to say that stuff isn't nice in its own way, but the operative word is cheap and $150 doesn't fall to my eyes as cheap when I'm trying to live making a a dollar out of 15 cents and running around town on an unlimited ride, m'kay?

So, from now on, Kitty Power shall be devoted to everything not involving roaming the streets looking for a beat. Solid.

ETA: With the new domain and MT and all, there's really no need for all that. It's all in a category of its very own.

Hmm

The current mystery of the my world is why my top banner pictures aren't showing up. I don't know what the fuck the deal is. I'm contemplating starting up another blog, one focused strictly on travels out and about in the nightlife world. I mean, hey, look what blogging about what you'd be doing regardless did for them. I want a club night! I could be a promoter! I suppose...I'm just saying shit really.

Blog This!

The Blog This! thing is kinda cute -- if only for the little box that pops up. It's like a mini-updater. Yeah, I'm easily amused today and only starting to feel like a human being again after being shit hungover. I need food and then I can start in on the post-event superpost.

Fucking Kazaa

Fucking Kazaa.

I figured it'd be a good idea to download most of the stuff I've wanted since May, but damn, it's sure not making it easy. On the most wanted list was "The Seed 2.0" which H&M has inserted in my head like a virus. I really hate Cody Chestnutt. I saw him at Sumerstage last year at the neo-soul extravanganza (!) starring him, Joi, Raphael Saddiq and Res. He sucked and frankly just looked unwashed. His sections of The Roots song -- plus the original song on his album -- are beyond offensive. "Pushing it right," eh? Loser. So, it's pissing me off that I had to download about 25 bad copies of the song before I remembered the preview feature. Ugh.

Dummies are flooding the market ridiculously. I mean, I don't like Kazaa to begin with (Audiogalaxy was the pinnacle. All else pale.), so spending too much brain power weeding out songs I'll only play until I finally get sick of them like "The Seed," "Pump It Up" and "Flipside" is just annoying. I mean, damn, I only probably like the music and perhaps a line of each. Maybe I'll go mad old school and start taping songs off the radio. Heh. I really haven't done that since about 1991 -- minus my radio show, natch. But that doesn't count.

Fucking blogger

Fucking blogger. It deleted my big long post. I don't feel like doing it again yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Reunited and it feels so good...I've got my baby back. I'm so happy to be back on my trusted HP again that I don't even mind yet that I'll be surfing the net on 56K until I come back from CT for the last time and hammer out a net outlook with the moms. Naturally, my first instinct is to go DSL, but the master plan has me booking by November, so I don't want either of us to get shafted on a contract. Hmm...we'll figure it out.

*grumble, grumble*

Stupid comments not working...*grumble, grumble*

Tonight is one of those nights where I was hit with a wave of inspiration. That in itself is a good thing, but the yearbook office Mac never is. *sigh* I think I've laid out only about 8 pages in 6 hours. That's fucking weak. And I have only about 80 to go before Friday. Kill...me...now.