Kitty Power

Pack Light

Not so long ago, I was known as a pack rat. (And a slob.) It was one of those things that developed gradually over time. Cleaning in my room was always the chore I hated the most. I never had the attention span to sift through things I liked and weed out what was less worthy of being at a visible place to grab when the mood hit me...whenever that might be. In some dark days of my youth, the maelstrom look of my room was a secret organization method for me to see immediately what had changed when I had my back turned. Back then, things had the habit of mysteriously disappearing and it gave me a little piece of mind to be able to visually confirm what I still had or had to chalk up to my "faulty recollection" of having it in the first place.

In adulthood, the mess became attributed to sheer lack of time and attention. In the past few years, home is probably the place I spend the least amount of time. My desk isn't so neat, but it's contained in a way that my bedroom floor never could be said to be. It's easy to forget dishes in the sink or laundry on the floor when you only see it for a few hours between sleep and leaving. As this year has unfolded jaggedly, the mess has gotten worse. But finally, I found an interesting solution to the clutter problem: moving.

I've been working up my way to this for a long time. For many of the past six months, I've been stuck with my head in the sand as shit got insane around me. I've been the queen of bad decisions. (Or maybe it was perfectly logical to let a barely working ex-dealer and felon move in with me and coast for a month or two before I woke the fuck up? Yeah, I didn't so either.) After spending 3 and half years here, this apartment means a lot more to me than just a place I've kept all my shit. It's the longest place I've lived straight since I was 14. And it's also filled with a colossal amount of garbage. My M3 conference pass from '05? Trash. The piles and piles of magazines I've gotten in the mail and never read? On the curb. Random dinner receipts and old flyers to shows I didn't even attend? Out of here.

What surprises me the most is how good it feels to reduce the clutter so much. Not to say that largely moving myself doesn't have a bunch to do with it, but where in the past I would've held on to everything "just in case," I have to curb my instinct to pick up everything and toss it. The new place is a lot smaller and most of the garbage I've been spreading around 5 rooms just doesn't need to go there. And that is a very good thing. Streamlining FTW.

The Stars Should Lie Upon My Face

While I've been off bullshitting, I've been getting older. Starting my Saturn return and all that. 27 in itself doesn't really feel like much, even though I thought of it as this semi-magical age when I was younger. The age when you become a real adult. In reality, it's kinda...eh. I suspect it's because 26 was so fucking hectic. I'm all about closing the book on all that. A fun fact is that when I used to run around with Farmer and The Boy (separately, natch), they were 27 and I think that's when it first became crystal clear that it was just a number, not a particular badge of maturity. They're both over 30 now and Farmer's a daddy, which is scary and awesome at the same time. The Boy, on the other hand, is still running around like a jerkface. I had a hilarious and random encounter with him and his BMX near the Navy Yard a while ago. Time really does fly.

This year, I decided to sit out Miami and my annual tradition of going into debt to pay for that trip. Though the cosmos is toying with me: Robert Owens is doing a show here Sunday night and he was my highlight last year, but Erykah Badu is playing a free show down there Thursday. My plan for this year is go to Sonar and spend some time visiting P. Diddy and Alex. I've never been to Europe before and the best airfare I'm finding is about $800 (not to mention the dollar vs. the euro is pathetic at the moment), so I need to save my pennies. That might be easier to do if I ever got around to finding a roommate... Baby steps.

Lately, I've been struggling trying to get this Life vs. Work equilibrium thing right. I've spent a big chunk of the past five years being a party girl and it's an adjustment to realize now that I'm actually building a career (I sure wouldn't have said that this time last year), staying out all night most nights can't really mesh with that. I've been experimenting with ways to build up some self-control and still have fun. It still needs adjustment time for sure. Let's not even mention that whatever balance I build can potentially come tumbling down if I introduce a new boy into the mix. Then again, I'm so far out of that mode. I don't even remember what it's like to date at this point.

I was kicking around the idea of resolutions for this year, but what I want is pretty simple: staying healthy, even greater career success, traveling more, having fun and keeping good people around. And I guess blogging more, but I always say that whether I mean it or not.

Who Do You Belong To?

I had a bizarre run to close out the year. I've been mostly keeping my head down guy wise for a long while, especially when I had the cast on and self-deprecatingly noted that a girl with a hobble probably wasn't high on anyone's priority list. I couldn't even dance with that thing on...nor for a fair amount of months afterwards. It's only been the past month or so that I've really been feeling consistently close to my old self again and still I'm at about 85% with some fun physical therapy sessions to do. Exciting stuff I know.

Anyways, just before the ankle blew out, I adopted this bar I've alluded to in my spare posting as my non-local local where I can perch, drink, and pass the time in peace. That peace last a few months before strangely enough the randoms got used to my face and I became fair game. I was good about fending off advances and became this weird yet friendly untouchable barfly. I made friends and finally allowed myself to have crushes and it was all humming along until one night.

This past year, I've been disentangled by choice. The situation with the boy in itself didn't mess me up, just the fallout and a few years of self-directed bad feelings. It was important for me to focus on getting my shit together without dumb distractions and I did it. Besides it was tiring on the soul to basically date the same guy with a different skin over and over again with the results constantly ending up the same degree of suck. You begin to wonder if the problem isn't with you at a certain point and I think it was, so I (hopefully) fixed it. Still, I wasn't quite in the nunnery and there was a brief moment where I got genuinely geeked over this new kid I met over the summer. It was nice to be with someone unafraid to be smart and literary and the long buried English nerd in me rejoiced at the possibility of coming out of cold storage. Didn't quite pan out, but I was happy for the widening of the criteria besides the old vague template.

But, the one that boiled over was straight out of my typical mold. He reminds me especially now of this kid I liked for a few angsty months in high school: musical, wears too much black and punk attire, long hair, and masking the issues with manic behavior and wit. It built over months and I got drawn into this strange push and pull thing and soon it was visible from space that we liked each other. Still, I tried to resist it all because at this point in my life, I don't see the point in doing all the old habits over when the end result is always the same. I don't feel like being as careless with my feelings as I used to be.

Unfortunately for me, I'm a sucker for a major declaration. After a long night perched at the bar leading to an after party at some random's loft, he cornered me mid drink pour with "I like you. I know you like me. Don't you? So what are we dancing around this for? What are we going to do about it?" And I said "nothing because I don't think it's right for me." And he pressed me for reasons and I halfheartedly spoke of work, being busy, and just not being in the game and he smiled at my hollow words and ignored them. We woke up together the next morning in his freezing apartment with me fully clothed including hoodie, minus shoes. As the day was heading into the next one, he formally asked me out and I think I finally started to silence the little cynic in me.

That was a waste. We had talked briefly about getting together after work (for me) early in the week and I was in charge of planning. I threw some ideas out there and realized they'd fallen into the abyss soon enough. So, imagine my surprise to see him strolling in the bar and walk up to me nonchalantly after blowing me off. I asked him to explain himself and he said he'd been on a four day bender and didn't mean to let me down. I coldly responded that there had been a window open with me that was now closed and he slunk away. Only to return a few minutes later if I wanted to hang out and watch a movie. I gave him a funny look, but spontaneously agreed because I wanted to see if I could get a less ridiculous excuse out of him.

Not quite. But, I did get a load of emo and it turned me off him for good. It reminded me of what I'd taken the break for. I just don't really have it in me to play doormat for some vaguely self-destructive narcissist anymore. Especially since eating all the shit doesn't do much in terms of having a good relationship or an especially lasting one. I called him on his pity party and countered with my own set of problems and the fact that some days it took all my energy just to feel okay, so I didn't have it in me to prop someone else up also. "God...who hurt you?" he said as if I was the messed up one. Wouldn't be him, that's for sure.

Over the holidays without work or much to do, I was a professional barfly and all that crap made hanging out at the bar tense for a bit. It was water under the bridge as far as I was concerned, mission aborted before it got out of hand, but he was acting very funny for a while there. One night, I had way too much to drink and let my mouth run (poor blackout ruined the memory for me), but from what I gather, it wasn't very nice, but at least deflated some of the excess ridiculousness. An uneasy truce has been called, but the place is kinda ruined for me. I'm glad all that time off grew me some backbone at least. Not so long ago, I would've glossed over the blow off as him being sweetly misunderstood. Nowadays, it correctly pegged him as a jerkface and he got the cane. Life's really just too short for that crap.

You Can Be My Blazing Arrow

Happy New Year! I've basically been a sicky mess since then. I was on vacation for about a week and a half leading up to it and started the wild run early, so once it was time to go back to work, my body conked out on me.

New Year's Eve is a bit of a blur for me. 2007 was a pretty insane year and I was happy to see the tail end of it. I spent the early part of the day scrambling to finish off shopping and cleaning and getting things done and failing miserably. And just when I thought I had enough to preoccupy me, yet another bombshell. '07 was the year of "aww fuck, what's next?" I was never allowed to get too comfortable before a seismic shift came along to stir up everything. It sucked, but I think I'm a better person on the other side.

And there I was at 11:30 on New Year's Eve, surprising myself by wearing a party dress. I'd been wrangling with it since the dressing room the day before, still wondering if it wasn't just a bit too short. It was fine in the front and sorta in the back as long as I didn't bend over or sit down or something useful. And unlike some crazies I saw later in the night, I had tights to keep it all from being a little too drafty and indecent. To cap off a year I'd spent transforming away from minimalist and preferring to be unnoticed, I went with big hair and earrings and loved my reflection. I swilled cheap champagne and danced for the passively observing cat and waited for PrincessNella's call and just felt totally relieved. I had made it through the loss of the hell job, being so sick and weak for a while there that I could barely get out of bed, all the dumb entanglements, and the horrible potential move to something like happiness and (partial) stability for the first time in forever. I buckled down and suffered, but I did it. I earned my fucking adult tag.

Midnight was me and PN and champagne and fireworks from the park. We just listened to music and kicked it for a while before we rallied to go out. Studio B was the destination for the second year, but this time, we didn't kick around that long before she was off home and I was en route to the still patchy part of my night. But, I hear I was quite the dancer and I even made a friend to go off to another party with. Beforehand, I'd made an appointment to get cable installed on New Year's Day, so imagine how unamused the cable guy was to hear me pleading for him to come back later with a techno background since I still wasn't home at 11am. I stumbled out in the light feeling like a degenerate soon after, but still missed him because he called back while I was in the passed out part of my day. Good times. I even got a food delivery from Ms. Mommy with the affirmation that yes, my dress was too short. But hell, it looks different without tights is my final word on it.

I don't really have any formal resolutions this year. Besides maybe be as good to people as they are to me, do the right thing, and curb the dickheads in my life. And stay healthy, but that's more of a wish. I've already discovered that's not much under my control. Oh, and I guess to write more here too, but I can't make any promises.

You Can Start Over

Mea culpa. I'm always disappearing lately.

Nothing to report really. Life working with the mothership has its ebbs and flows. I'm gearing up to move at the end of the year to my first solo place and worrying about saving right and what I'll do with all the crap I've accumulated over the years. The cast/bandages are off and the ankles are a little crunchy, but at least I can dance again with only a bit of hobbling.

Over on my Facebook page, I've been building this photo album with some old pictures I unearthed when Helga was retired. Most of them are from senior year and the immediate time afterwards when everything was awesome and scary all at once. I'm constantly struck by how long ago it all seems. Sometimes I miss being filled with so much energy and piss and vinegar, but never feeling so awkward and unsure and hungry for any kind of experience that I could get. Looking back, I wasted a lot of time being passive and confused. Everything's not perfect now by far but there's something to be said for (mostly) feeling like my head's on straight.

It's kinda easy to ride the nostalgia train. It's been almost a year since the infamous drink episode and about six months since I crushed The Boy's ridiculous friends attempt. And I haven't seen him in a wonderfully long time which sometimes makes me smile at the thought that he ceased to exist or something like that. Farmer's my newish Facebook friend and I got floored at the news he's going to be someone's dad the other week. That's just...wow. I figure Mr. Sailor is probably married and/or with kids now too. I laugh at how stupidly intense I felt for most of the stupid shit I used to mistake for love. It's amusing the strange turns life can take sometimes.

At the moment, I'm just trying to have a good life and feel great. Sometimes a little solitary ambition does a girl good.

I Was Delayed, I Was Waylaid

I've been having a mini nostalgia trip today. Once upon a time, I really looked like my mother. And I didn't fret about the perceived thickness of my neck. And I was really vain and referred to my stomach as perfect. And the night that picture was taken, I was wearing black satin, cut dangerously low in the back, and I made jaws drop. I also drank shitloads on an empty stomach and ended up doubled over and dryheaving in a heap. But, I still was pretty hot.

I still have that dress here in my closet, pushed back into the corner, sad and neglected. I could probably still get it on...a quarter way before the seams ripped. I won't even pretend that it'd still be able to zip. It fit like a second skin then, but draped flatteringly. I'd need a lot more material nowadays.

I've been feeling kinda hit or miss healthwise and I made the step of joining my closest Y last week. Swimming and steam rooms and all of that supposedly help me feel better. Buying a swimsuit wasn't the semi-traumatizing trip I expected it to be. I'm a lot more realistic about my body and its limitations nowadays. I think I panicked more at the gym when I realized I'd placed myself in the high traffic area of the locker room changing and then when I had to sneak into the aquacize class with my little towel barely acting as a shield and all eyes on me. It's one thing to be mentally comfortable in your skin and have other people see you in it in bad lighting. But the class was fun and I kicked ass, bad knee and shoulder be damned. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

Last Friday night, I wandered to Williamsburg for a show at a venue I've seen only good shows at and amuses me by changing the decor every time I go there. I tangentially knew that the show was put on by this kid I'm conflicted about on a few levels. And I strolled up and there he was. We met in one of the random ways I can meet people when I'm feeling deliberate and the episode itself was fun if a bit tame. Strolling about the Slope on one of the hottest days of the spring, chatting aimlessly, and watching tv is strange on the surface, yet it was also perfect in a way. I so rarely just chill with someone I don't know well. Underrated it is. I've seen him around since then, usually at shows, and he's disarmingly friendly, but the outside venue communications lines seem to have dried up. I don't really feel anything but kinda off-put. He's an interesting guy and has a lot of the things I said I was looking for on my post-boy list of Mr. Next attributes. He's got some of the too cool for school trappings, but I felt that he was a stand up non-pretentious sort of person. Maybe I was wrong and the vague shallow hipster impression is the real one. I'm suspicious of people who put up the fake front whether they like you or not. It veers too close to the Shady school of life. Then again, it seems to work for him, so what do I know?

I ended up in the balcony next to a guy being a "badass" and sprinkling beer on people. I may have pointed out the slope kid (and his stupid shirt) for a splashing. It was wrong. The devil made me do it. But, I was still surprised when dude got inspired and practically dumped the whole can on him. Sloper looked up all aggro style for a second, but the moment passed. I ran into him later and he was asking what the deal was with the beer thrower. I feigned confusion and wandered off.

I can't help myself from playing the what if game as far as he's concerned. Well, he's not the only one. Sometimes I look back on the old pictures and think that if that was me now, I'd never lose. And then I remember the circumstances around the night this picture was taken when I couldn't quite hold onto the attention of my spring semester focus at the time and senior year in general which was like one misadventure after another. The grass is always greener on the other side. But I think at the end of the day, I'd just like less rocks on my lawn.

Hey Mr. DJ, Let The Beat Play

My new fave commercial. I think the bemused British chuckle does it for me...and dude being like "I'd be happy with just one." I think I realized as I watched it that I had never heard Becks speak before. And damn, he sure is blond.

I'm about 95% free from this mega-project I've been devoted to for most of the past couple of weeks. It looks pretty dope if I must say so myself. (Ask me off-site if you're remotely curious about the link.) While I've been mucking through it, me being me, it's not like I totally stayed at home...at least not on the weekends. I might still be a little burned out from the out and about every night of the week thing from a month or so ago. I'm old and tired, I can't roll that (much) anymore.

The other weekend kicked off early Friday evening when I rolled from work (Summer Fridays never seem to work out as planned lately...) to the monthly happy hour of this downtown agency my old job collaborated with. TrendVickster came along and we chatted and drank and oohed and ahhed the company head's brand spanking new iPhone. He tried to front like he was nonchalant while fumbling through the controls and the whole spectacle got a meh. TV and I split a slice of cake (what a nutritious dinner!) and I was off to the wilds of Bushwick to party and get a fangirl thrill.

It might be the Brooklyn girl in me but I don't get why Bushwick is hip. I hear the name and I think nowhere worth going. Williamsburg is vaguely understandable being that it's super convenient from Manhattan, but Bushwick is just out there and it really hasn't changed much over the years. I got off the train at Morgan to find this place and turned a corner to feel like I was in a horror movie. One where the zombies come out from the empty lots and seemingly abandoned warehouse buildings to drag a poor unsuspecting girl in the wrong place at the wrong time away to feast on her brains. And then I walk down the street to see something or another filming and this converted factory building with a gourmet supermarket and cafe and little hipsters hanging out on the bench in front. And I walk another block and it's back to zombieland, with the faint sound of techno coming from a roof. I hobble my way up the stairs and the joint is packed with hipsters from god knows where, most looking fresh off the road from Bumblefuck, USA and some real neighborhood kids amusing themselves. I was feeling antisocial and wandered across the street to this random bar that I'm a little in love with now. I chilled with the bartender and randoms watching Saturday Night Fever (one of those movies that you realize is super fucked up when you actually really pay attention to it) on DVD. I went back to the roof to satisfy my thrill (oh so dirty sexy pretty!) and left just as I heard the sirens coming to shut the party down. Back at the bar, I ended up in this overlong conversation about work and the crazy admark industry and I kinda felt like a very fulfilled nerd. And then called a cab to drag my drunk ass home to my doorstep. Good times.

Saturday's vague highlights was marvelling at party locations nowadays. I'm just waiting for someone else to do a laundry party at this point. This one was in some random ass loft next to a gas station and I saw Abe and other folks I know. I had a spazzy moment with my current fave DJ from the party that I'm becoming diehard about where I told her how much I loved her podcasts mixes on the bathroom line. Ah well.

Last Friday got me back to 419. My knee hurt, so I perched myself on the back bar stool and was content to sip on something and people watch. But, noooo...whenever a woman is sitting alone somewhere, it obviously means that she's dying to get picked up, right? Wrong! First dude slid across within 5 minutes and he had sub-game and I was beyond monosyllabic and after some uncomfortable minutes, he finally went away. This other dude rolled in all fake thug in a hipster party and sideglanced me for a while. He was easy on the eyes and I may have noncommittally looked back once or twice. His big move was telling me to let him know when I wanted a drink because he could hook me up and then saying he'd be right back and SMACKING ME ON THE ASS as he walked past. I totally gasped and him booking it was the only thing that didn't have me getting up and hurting him, lame knee be damned. Who the fuck seriously does that? Jesus Christ. It's bad enough that being by yourself in the midst of people and stuff means you have to get damned every bullshit pass in the place, but the ass slap is beyond disrespectful. I was fuming. I even broadcasted it to my dodgeball list in fact. I was bitching about it later on to this random who amusingly looked on when guy #1 and the slapper tried one after another to kick it to me again upstairs on the patio. The slapper was really close to getting a drink thrown in his face (he doesn't know about me...I'll do it) when he was mewing that I'd gotten my own drink instead of letting him get it. Fucking lamer. He was pretty beat later on when I was chatting up the random too. So strange that ass slapping isn't much of deal sealer.

In the best of circumstances, I'm admittedly difficult to meet at a party. I loathe being hit on. If you try, you're deaded. In fact, you probably just wasted your time bothering with the walk over because I'm not trying to hear it. Where the random vaguely succeeded where the other two failed (though the slapper torpedoed his own chances) was that I'd given him "can you believe this crap?" exasperated glances during the loser parade and when they left me alone, we had something to chat and joke about. In a nutshell, I might minorly be a control freak and I hate feeling like a piece of meat. Not that I like doing all the work, but I don't respond well to the "you're my prey and I'm pouncing" methodology. YMMV I suppose.

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.

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?

She Seems Happier At Night

Despite things still sorta swirling around strangely, I feel mostly good.

Going to midtown every work day and looking like an adult instead of a college kid in limbo is an interesting experiment. I nipped in the bud -- rewind, I crushed with my best stiletto heel -- the pseudofriendship thing the boy was trying to push for. Just thinking about having to talk to him again was making me crazy. It was like a rewind to all the shit I thought I worked through in all these months. Some wounds get infected when you pick at it. Proving that we're both mature and responsible people, I told him that I wanted him to go crawl back under the rock he was hiding under for the past six months with some cold East New York flavor I didn't know I had lurking in there and he crank called me like a bitch the past Friday night. We're both obviously winners. But who cares! It's really truly spring, so I'm happy.

I've been pretty much a homebody during the week again. I've got to get up damned early (for me) with the added bonus of not going only 15 minutes away anymore. Not that it's stopping me from staying up too late as usual, but it's hard for me to get motivated out before the weekend. Last Friday was a marathon day for me. Late at work, then off to meet up with C to repay my $60 from Miami and enjoy happy hour. Red was there with friends and I said hi for a bit then went back to my table. Faiks came in for a long overdue hangout session and we grabbed dinner. She turned into a pumpkin and then it was Red and I drinking and trying to rally...which ended up being eating at Unos (I swear I haven't been to one of those since high school) and sitting around in the park before rolling back to Brooklyn. Next day was Chinese delivery and watching Donnie Darko. Chill fun. I've kinda missed just aimlessly hanging out with someone cool a la Fizzie. Getting into trouble sometimes, but mostly bullshitting and chatting about real stuff. Low maintenance and non-dramatic is nice at this point. I'm still sorting a lot things out, so a distraction is good.

The most exciting things from Sunday were: 1) A really good energizing ride around the park. I took these interiors roads for once and that was cool. I also need to ride more because my stamina sucks. 2) Taking my awesome new shoes (yes, shoes not sneakers) on a test run. 3) I actually fit into the size I'm supposed to be in the fitting rooms with minimal "goddammit, I'm a fat cow!" trauma 4) After two years of cohabitation, the cat finally seems to be giving Ant some love. That was actually really cute.

Another reason why life is all good as far as I'm concerned:

Can't wait!

The Rolls and Waves

This past week, I've just been trying to keep my equilibrium going. I'm one of those people that need a neutral balance or else I'm going to fall into the hole. Last Thursday was a pretty shitty day, for instance. I got beyond drenched out in the rain, had some very not so good interviews, found out my insurance was cut off, and just felt super alone and loserish and overwhelmed most of that day. That great mood carried on to early Friday when I tried my best to just stay under the covers and cry before I got the call about some more interviews and then had some drinks and tried to perk myself up.

I ended up at a big party at 3rd Ward that night. I was determined to enjoy myself and succeeded. There was an annoying interlude with this random who latched onto me early and wouldn't leave me alone. He was too old, marginally funny, looked like a lost member of X-Clan (well, not that there's anything wrong with that part), and had this really irritating habit of singing in my ear. I had to break out some stealth moves to finally shake him. Good thing about huge warehouse parties is you can go hours withough running into a person again. I ran into Benny and Tim and ended up talking with Benny about their group and an upcoming show. He said that they were looking for singers to do background stuff and I (strange for me) volunteered. Er, haven't done more than entertain my cat in four years. That's going to be an adventure. And then I wandered around and around for hours before escaping at 8am into the insanely bright sun. It's always tough strolling in somewhere in the dead of the night and finally accepting that it's daytime and you need to go home. We party hard.

I made a new friend Sunday and I shall call him Red (for obvious real life reasons). We went to Floyd's and didn't play bocce (which is almost blasphemous) and then to see Disturbia. Which made me really hot for Shia LaBeouf, until I found out that's he's not even 21. You'd think I'd be on some what's good for the goose is good for gander since I'm hard pressed to think of the last guy I dated/liked/whatever that's not older than me, but yuck at younger guys. I'm sure I'll change my tune in 5 years or so.
Last night was another Battles show. Most of my time was spent wishing bodily harm on this group of jerks who decided that no matter what the song, a mosh pit was needed. The boy came over at the end all "you're here, cool, I was going to text you to see if you knew about it, but here you are." Blah. He should make himself useful and get me a damned Battles bag. I've talked so much about it this week that the crazed need is awakened.

This week was kinda tough. I've been worrying a lot about the job situation, natch. Good/bad effects: weight loss. The "so stressed that I'm despairing" diet works wonders. But I've been working my ass off the past couple of weeks and it paid off with mad interviews and finally today, a new job. I'll be freelancing as a PM/producer at an agency that could eat my old one for breakfast, so I'm really excited. And I even have nothing but goodwill (today at least) towards my old boss for forcing me onto the market to make a living wage. Yay for me!

Can It All Be So Simple

I still haven't learned how to relax and accept that being home during the day -- at least compared to never seeing the light hit this place except for on my way out in the morning -- kinda rules. The streets around here are interesting. Old people, people with babies, and the stray kid and/or unemployed person like me. It's fun being able to zip around so fast with hardly anyone in the lines and stuff. I almost feel like I have to retrain myself to stroll along leisurely and not let the four walls close in on me. I haven't been doing park stuff like I should, but exercise DVDs are my new guilty pleasure. Man, if I stay home another week or two, I'm going to be super buff.

The weekend was actually a strangely good one. Friday night, met up with Banana and we tried to do the artsy rounds before we settled on this bar in the western reaches of Soho with $6 well drinks in a pint glass. It was like heaven. They also had a gang of menus so we could order in stuff (wings and nachos, yum). It was just a fun kinda cheap night shooting the shit with randoms which is always good. We made a detour to visit Justin spinning at 419 before going home and passing out.

Imagine my surprise Saturday morning to get a query about brunch from the boy of all people. That was some interesting timing. Curiosity got the better of me and I agreed, which turned into a seven hour adventure of chatting and wandering around the nabe. I made it to a First Saturday for the second time in over two years. It was a little awkward for me, but we got along. He's (admittedly) been storing up things to tell/ask me about for the past six months, so I guess it was like Christmas for him. I'm still on the fence. I tried to hang with the ex-coworkers for a bit that night, but awkward feelings sent me running across Williamsburg to this other party the boy had told me about. I indifferently watched him with his new flavor of the night and lost myself dancing and trying to melt in the little room everyone was crammed in. I went home alone, feeling good, and got up earlyish the next day to plow through my room. (Three days later, it's still going.) I spent Easter with Alafairnadia and friends drinking bubbly and eating good food.

The boy kinda wants to be bffs or something and I'm going to decline to overthink something for once and just go with it until it becomes a bad situation. Knowing him, it won't take long. I might still hate him a little bit under the shiny surface. Still, we saw Grindhouse (oh man, it rules! But everyone rushed for the bathroom when it was over. You really have like a 2-second potty window in between the movies.) together Monday night and that was fun. And he even inspired me to reconnect with Farmer. So the grand experiment is already good for something.

Make Some Lemonade

T. S. Monk - Bon Bon Vie

That's my new favorite song. I've known it for years, but while I was browsing the goods I couldn't bring myself to drop tons of cash on in the Adidas store in Miami, the DJ put it on and I cornered him to get the name. I came back to NY and Soulseek wasn't being helpful and Bill thankfully gave it to me. It's such a strange song, very upbeat music with some really depressing ass lyrics. It fits what I'm going through right now.

I've been holding a post in draft all week because I couldn't find the right words/tone or encrypt things like I usually do. I'm going through a really bad time and I can't write cute around it. I just feel lately like every good thing that happens to me has some swift negative counter and it's bringing me down.

Miami was great, warm fun (minus the hotel losing my reservation, the fruitless lines at the Scion parties and getting shafted at hotel bars -- no matter how many times I go, $12 well drinks will never be okay). A highlight was making a friend at the Robert Owens show and geeking over the artist behind Strings of Life. Yay house and techno!

My doctor was harassing me while I was down there and I made an appointment with her for the Friday after I got back. I started seeing her over some random phantom pain in my knee that had been bothering me for a while. She did a complete physical (I'm fat and weigh a lot more than I used to, no shit) and took a heap of blood and got the results while I was away. It turns out that my joints are fucked and I have an appointment with a specialist to see if it's a bad disease or a worse one. Um yay? ETA: It's the mild version of bad. In case you were sitting on the edge of your seat or something.

Funny thing about Friday, I also got laid off that day. I was having a hellish week back at work and totally swamped with work. My boss walked up to me at 6:15 all "can I talk to you for a second?" and I said no because I had a shitload to finish by 7. Yet she was insistent and I went to find out to my surprise that I was out of a job. I don't even know how I felt. I was pretty relieved yet also frightened since being out of a job when you might potentially be really sick is no good. My work friends rallyed for me at the local bar and that was nice. Despite my evil boss and being overworked and grossly underpaid, I liked my job and most of the people there. It makes me sad to have that suddenly taken away from me, but I'm not really worried about landing on my feet. It's weird being home during the day. I've working more or less straight for the past 10 years, so I almost don't know what do with myself without a job, even if part of me just wants to fucking relax and write like I never have time for and collect unemployment for a minute. Instead, I've been applying and doing interviews and thinking about where to apply. I don't think I know how to relax sometimes.

Last night was the Battles/Prefuse/Soft Circle show at the Bowery. The show sold out last week (over the weekend? I dunno), something I didn't discover until I checked online to get the box office address to go buy a ticket. I made new friend off Craig's List (off the strictly platonic section, pervs) and got to go. (Thanks again, E!) I've heard a lot about Soft Circle, but never heard the music until yesterday. It was pretty rad, one man band drumming with droning vocals and electronics. Prefuse did a drum-less set with him and two dudes on the turntables/mixers/electronics. One of them was this DJ from LA called The Gaslamp Killer. Last year in Miami, he DJed this party I went to and dude's an experience. He's like a mixtape come to life or something. After/during/between a song, he starts with the hype man shouting business. It's half entertaining, half annoying. Battles was great also, but by the time they took the stage, I was already over the edge of drunkenness with no return. A fun result of that: I ran out of cash in my pocket, so I used to my credit card to buy a drink I didn't need. And to kill the tab, I bought drinks for Prefuse, Beans, and some of their friends. How random.

As I vaguely feared, I ran into the boy at the show. He rolled up on me when I was chatting with E before the show started and I eyed the drink in his hand really warily. He said that he read the email (actually MySpace message) that I had sent him, but he'd been busy and hadn't had time to respond (whatever, fuck him). I didn't really say anything in return and for once in his life, he took a hint at the awkwardness and went away. I ran into his friend (the one I've seen at Sputnik a few times and have a pretty good relationship with considering) and told him about the job situation, so when I ran into the boy again later, he said: "sorry to hear about your job, but you're one of the most resourceful people I know, so I'm sure it'll work out for you." Which was nice, but way to pass on my bad news, friend! We had a nice conversation which was strange and I said as much. He invited me over to hang out with him and his friends and I didn't. I feel good about the whole thing though. I wanted a nice postscript to the whole thing and now I have it. I'd rather look forward to something new than keep looking back.

The end of the show is a drunken blur. Somehow somewhere I fell and hurt my elbow and sorta broke my phone (thank god for cell insurance!). I cabbed it home and woke up in bed fully clothed. I've spent most of the day convinced that I lost my phone and was inconsolably hysterical for hours (missed two phone interviews also...yay me), but there it was randomly a few minutes ago when I bent down to get my fallen pen, off and taunting me. Meh. At least it's here. Sometimes shit just works out...sooner or later.

Come Around My Way

Two posts in as many days? I hear hell's getting a cold front.

I've finally succumbed to the plague that's felled everyone else in my office. After a slight bout with the chills yesterday, I'm left with the hacking cough. I've stocked up on Theraflu, EmergenC, fruits, and Hall's, so I'm gonna kill this fucker by Thursday. Or else I'm gonna be that annoying passenger that everyone hates since the canned air will make the hack worse. PrincessNella's gonna love me for that.

In honor of what I was talking about last post (letting shit be water under the bridge and all that), I sent a really nice note to the boy. Basically saying that I wish him the best in his life...far away from me. I don't actually expect a reply. It was just for brain dump's sake. That was my good deed for the month. Back to regularly scheduled piss and vinegar.

Did I mention how PSYCHED I am for Miami? I am, really. In case you didn't notice.

In the life can never be simple files, I swear NYC has only 300 people in it tops. No matter what the census says. This guy I think I could like (if he wasn't so shiny and kinda accomplished in his way and so high profile and put together with really nice hair and I wasn't in this weird phase where I'm shy and feel like flying under the radar and being a little self-hating) and I apparently overlap on every circle. If not him, someone that's about half a degree away from him. MySpace, real life friends, nabe life/the board, parties, and now the goddamned local deli by the job. The whole thing makes me want to run and hide. He sees me, I see him, no one's ever going to do anything about it. I get the distinct impression that I'm not the type of girl he would like. I'm too...everything (see, self-hating phase) and he's probably started wondering if I'm stalking him. I might have done some minor net detective work (damn, it's easy), but I can't put in the effort to really mount a chase. My post-trip life is focused on whipping the body into shape in time for Tino's hippie wedding to avoid total mortification. I'm a little over the phase where I run headfirst into rejection.

Everybody Is Trying To Be His Friend

Birthday in less than 17 days! Despite my love of the countdown, this year feels like a non-event for me.

I'm marginally amused that I'm not doing much to uncomplicate my life, despite a nice little run of quiet I had there. Of all the boys in NYC that I could have a) a crush on and b) want me for...something besides my big, entertaining brain, it would have to be roommates. Ugh. Extracting myself from that situation with no one but me (and you, my delightful non-them readers) knowing about it is going to be interesting. Good thing I was playing Girl Scout for a while there because it'll be a lot easier since nothing's gone on all around. I don't really want to bother with either of them. A girl would like to be surprised and swept off her feet for a change. That's not happening with either of them.

In many ways, I'm pretty much mentally checked out of the city. As it stands, I'm either finding something new to do that's awesome and well-paying or staying where I'm at working up towards a move in the spring. Top 3 destinations: LA, DC, or SF with LA being the front runner. But I'm starting to downplay that since the idea is making (almost) everyone I know foam at the mouth. To answer the inevitable "why?!" I'm getting from everyone, I just want a change of scenery. It might be millions strong, but it seems like my little hometown more times than not and I'm at a place where I'd rather miss it. It's starting to feel clastrophobic. Either everything I remember comes rushing back when I go certain places or I end up feeling down because so much has changed. And there's the constant turning a corner and seeing a HS or college person, a failed date, a former coworker, some random I met once at 2am in a backroom. I want to go where I don't have such a layered history. Just for a little while. And if I hate it, the city will always take me back.

Resolutions

I don't know if I can muster up the attention span to do mega-end/beginning of the year roundups like I used to. I've had shit sitting in draft for weeks with no end in sight, so I'm throwing in the towel on them. Last year was rough. I feel that much has been obvious around here. In some areas, I'm more distant and unfocused than ever and in others, stuff is/has come together in ways I wouldn't have imagined. Everything needs work though and I'm just trying to keep some sort of upward trajectory going.

I could list my regrets for days, but at least I really felt like an active participant in my story for the first time in too long. Everyone's annoyed at me for slowing the output here down to a crawl, but if it's a slight comfort, the less I'm writing here, the more I'm out there actually living. I need more of a balance this year.

Anyhoo, the resolutions:
01. Move
02. Ask for help
03. Rebuild my nest
04. Get the savings in better shape
05. Leave the past in the past
06. Stop neglecting my site
07. See one secret creative project to fruition
08. Go easier on myself
09. Kill the inner control freak
10. Have more fun

You're Going No Further

I'm supposedly looking like my old old self again. The reactions I'm getting are kinda amusing. Then again, I'm actually smiling nowadays and lost like 185 pounds of dead weight. Things like that do wonders for a girl. Even my mom was saying I needed some fun in my damned life, so I'm off having it. Viva rebounding! There's the danger of reversing the initial happy loss with the holiday season carousing I've been doing to excess. But who cares? Pass the ham and yams and egg nog and hot toddys. I'll exercise more...or not.

I've been trying to do something about all the stuff I've been complaining about. The shitty boy down, next is me being super kickass at the job. Wordlessly mewing never got anyone anything. We're heading into a massive busy time (ever wonder what I do? Here you go.) and I plan to give no doubt that I go above and beyond. I want a really happy new year on that front. Ant and I are on the mega apartment hunt. It's the pits really. Balcony, 1 big room, and a cave? Two equally sized big rooms and no living room? Awesome place near where I spend too much of my time but kitty corner from the projects? Dilemma, dilemma. We're still looking.

Most surprising thing about recently is that I've been writing a lot (not here obviously)...and believe it or not, songs. We'll see what happens to them. Once the initial excitement passed, I was very meh about it. I'm listening to too much A Cloud Mireya. It makes me think I can do it too. I suppose as long as I resist turning the saga of the rebound kid's cat turning me into human pincushion nightly, it'll be salvagable.

Bring It All Back

Left to my own devices, I brood and obsess and internalize. I lounge and overthink and become melancholy and wring my hands about what next steps to take. I usually decide to sit and wait for inspiration to hit and take things in and bite back my reactions. This year, I'm mostly about shaking that bad habit.

And it's hard. I think I've cried more since I have when I was a child. Fucking change is hard. Sometimes I don't feel tough enough and I slip and do what I'm trying not to. I've always been a person who does the "right" thing since it's the good thing to do and the mysterious they say if you work hard and rightly enough, you get nothing but good things back. But, what the fuck do they know? Do they have names and can their references be verified?

I've been precariously trying to keep equilibrium. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I want. Sometimes I just don't know. Other times it's clear: happiness, success, security, respect, and feeling appreciated. I've ripped up some of my foundations with jackhammers and tried to subvert everything I thought I was about. I've tried to kill the dead weight and be forceful and be me. I know I've been more self-absorbed than usual, but I don't get the same thrills in sharing that with others that I used to. I'm just trying to keep shit together a day at a time, even when it seems like things are falling apart all around me. I quit my old mostly comfortable, but extremely hated job and threw myself into a new scary place that makes me proud and cry and be upset and want to do the best I can and sometimes just want to throw in the towel and start again. It's hard for me to not be my job nowadays especially when it has me for 60 hours a week. The rents think that I am insane and alternately encourage me to walk away and stick it out. I don't know what I'll do. My mind changes daily.

I feel raw this year, all exposed nerves and shaky. Just when I'm putting one foot in front of the other to maintain, weird shit happens and I'm thrown again. There's been death and Mr. Daddy's medical crisis surprise (all better but still weirds me out) and getting a blast from my little girl past and the random thoughts of having screwed up and not being able to fix my trajectory. And the forceful expulsion of people from my life. Sometimes I have random dreams about Farmer and we're still friends or whatever. I miss him sometimes and wonder about him, but mostly think the break had to happen. Sometimes you just care more about people than they do about you and life is better when they're not around. Sad but true. I had the long overdue showdown with the boy the other week. I didn't realize I had so much anger simmering under the surface until I threw a drink in his face. It was a bad quick episode, but also on some slow motion movie shit. That was like the bow to a colossally shitty week. I'm sorry but not especially and I wrote him a vitriolic letter that I buried in my notebook and will never send. It's my nature to try to have a coda and make things tidy, but I'm starting to accept that sometimes endings are jagged and bad.

Thursday night, I revisited a place that had some appeal over the summer and the kid who introduced me to it. I was sitting alone, not really sure if I was waiting or not, feeling aimless and drinking a cider. I'm pretty sure I was frowning and ridiculously far into my head and the problems I'm sorting through. The bartender made minor small talk with me and I responded in monotone capped off with a weak smile. The kid came and we small talked and I resisted the urge to dump the bad at his feet. I killed the work and bad old relationship talk and focused on the moment. A nice little bar, a good cider, a DJ randomly playing the Metro Area album, colorful bar characters, the fun flirtation and the unspoken knowledge that it was leading to more, and a real smile on my face probably for the first time that day. It's just better sometimes to focus on the great little things.

Until The Dream Is Life and Life Becomes The Dream

I read once somewhere or another (more than a little skeptically) that my star sign is all about opposing duality. That's not especially news to me. I feel like I'm always fighting between doing the right thing and not making waves and saying "yeah, fuck that shit" with my ass-kicking boots on. Sometimes I'm a perfect Girl Scout and others angelic is least appropriate descriptor. Then again, can't that describe almost anyone? Such is life I suppose. I can't think of a time when I didn't have a reputation for being mercurial.

I'm trying to wrap up an overly extended delayed gratification period. All work and no play makes me a dull girl. I'm getting back out in the world with baby steps. I realized that the revisted boy trip was like aggravating a sprain. I'm itching to really get my shit together already. There's so many unicorns out there to catch.

Friday night started off with my bad habit of following 9-10 hours of work with a visit to the boy's studio downstairs. I dimmed as he tersely fumbled around on his computer and half-ignored me. I seethed as he brushed off my expertise and could barely feign interest at this design idea I need technical help to make a reality. I took pictures of the back of his head and contemplated making a desktop dartboard or at least a fun Photoshop defacing project. I spy him reading an email from my bizarro, the ex (we have the same initials, how freaky). I contemplate if he'd feel differently about me if I was a lying cheat or over the top in my self-obsession, and quickly shoot that down with the thought that I'd be stuck with him then. And I wondered when my stupid unromantic life began to resemble bad R&B song lyrics. I thought I outgrew all that shit years ago.

We traipse into town in search of open bar action and good music. I think to myself that it's the first time I've been to Manhattan in 2 weeks. If I didn't see it from the window at work, I'd forget the place exists sometimes. He constantly talks in half-baked bullshit and the dark hides my scowl. I am not entertained. At the place, it's a Sapph reunion with the people I saw weekly for years and I feel almost nostalgic. I'm forced to introduce him to one of those old friends and I wish I had resisted harder because it implies we're together. This terrible dancing shaggy-haired hipster fuck makes me look bad. I scowl some more until the music uplifts my mood. He leans down to whisper in my ear about the greatness of the song and I whisper in his during the next one about my awesome memory of that one. He leans away and cuts me off.

That night, like every night, I synthesize his every word and he loses interest in mine after the initial couple. I call him transparent and he calls me inscrutable, except he doesn't know that word. I call him shallow and he says that I am "the opposite of shallow, high like the Himalayas. You're always so above it all." I scowl at him and say, "you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about. The opposite of shallow is deep." And he says I'm wrong and we snap back and forth. I spit out: "every stupid episode with you is just a cheap imitation of bullshit I've already been through with someone else. I'm tired of it, it wears me out, and makes me feel like I'm 150 years old." And only glorious silence follows.

Saturday night was a big birthday blowout for one of my favorite coworkers. PrincessNella and I rolled through.To my surprise, there was one of my unicorns from yet another coworker's party. He's a friend of a guy I work with constantly and we had shared a night-long flirtation and a dance before I dropped the ball as usual. He came over and I got my formal introduction...and then dropped the ball again. I explained pathetically to my friends that I can't even interact right anymore. I convinced myself so that unicorns don't even exist that I don't even know what to do when confronted with one. I can do passive dysfunctional fine, but anything else is a challenge. Still, I'm trying my best to change. I deserve a unicorn.

Wake Up and Live Forever

Note: this post has been liberated from the unpublished archives and I was just too lazy to update most of it

August was a super strange month for me, with a lot of deja vu-inducing moments. Wacky neighbor friend who gets a little besides himself after some drinks? The DJ looking cute but ultimately ridiculous to me? A boy who should be in the past, but I'm having random hangouts with him where I just kinda shake my head and wonder why? What fucking year is this really? And I've been on my broke as a joke diet and looking downright early 2005 lately. Sayonara, chipmunk cheeks! Until the next round of cheeseburgers at least.

And me flitting about until real life ultimately comes slapping me in the face. Trying to be a grown up is really hard work. Sometimes I'm juggling like a pro, others things just get broken and I have to get out my superglue and try my best to fix it. I've spent a lot of time thinking about social superficiality and the few things and people that really have brought me joy in random, flighty ways. It's funny that I went in a week from saying that everyone's social MO is to greet drive-by style to wishing that I had broken myself from that pattern with the ones who were really special. Like the wonderful AG, gone now but briefly a bright light in the after dark world for me.

I've definitely seen more shows lately than I have in a while. PrincessNella and I went to Amsterjam thanks to a guy at work with connections. Busta: weird and leaning on the newer shitty material and not looking so hot. LL: the awesome! He did songs I forgot I knew from all through his career. But, he teased us by not going totally shirtless. He's looking less bullish lately. It would've been super hot. Foo Fighters: I really thought I sorta liked them until this show. They did the newer hits which blow and every song just ended up annoying. That might have been because the mosh pit erupted right next to me. Fuckers still do that shit? Christ on a cracker! We escaped to the lovely scene of a chick giving her pedophile boyfriend bus head in the corner of our eyes. As my dad used to say before he went all suburban, "you pay your fare, you get a show." Eww...I'll pass.

We wandered through Queens lamenting the utter lack of post-10pm eats and ended up in a spot familiar to me, near where Trendvickster lived before her big Chicago move. I marvelled at the time I used to spend in the area and how long ago the bulk of the '03 hijinks seem. Then off to Greenpoint where work and my life combined in fun ways. I felt really glad about how different everything is for me than it was six months ago. I don't regret the leap a single moment, even though many of these months have been painfully tight. The happiness will always win out.

In the past month, I've seen a few celebrations of love and commitment. I'm in a place where I'm happy to see really loving couples because I think "one day, that'll be me." I don't feel a rush, but in doing this ridiculous palling about with the boy, it makes me feel more acutely what I'm missing. There's not really anything I can actually do about it, but just sigh I guess.

You Don't Have To Dance For Me, I've Seen Your Dance Before

I have a hard time letting go sometimes. I'm a hard, self-possessed bitch who lives and dies on first impressions and if we start off on the wrong foot, it's never getting good. But the ones that pass and get through some of the layers, they gain a person who will be selfless to the point of ridiculousness and always care even when I shouldn't. It's not an eternal thing (e.g. Mr. Sailor), but sometimes even after falling out# 2,027681(e.g. Farmer), part of me still feels like I'm connected to them until one day it just finally sinks in to cut my losses.

It's more than partially me. I've got a million things going on and I like to be involved in a lot, weaving my way in and out of different areas. I like to know things, I like to learn about stuff that's new, I'm always open to share what I've gathered. But, I'm not an out there social animal and I'm usually low-key to a fault. And I like to get my kicks when I can. I like the guys with the big personalities that do "crazy" stuff or the ones so relaxed generally that I look manic in comparison. Usually some combo of the two.

Like the boy. When I first met him, I thought he wasn't like anyone I know. That, of course, was discovered not to be true as time passed. He and Farmer are two peas in a pod, with the extreme personality replaced by dogged intensity. There's something about the dynamic between us that bothers me in the same way. I'm always sitting back and playing the supportive audience, the second fiddle, the sounding board. I don't like myself when I'm with him. So, it's kinda strange that picture defacing aside, I've been wrangling with extracting myself. I tried the no contact thing fairly successfully for a while until the other week when I was feeling kicked puppyish and he made rare supportive noises that made me feel better temporarily. That lasted until about Thursday.

I'd been bored and feeling random after a semi-rough week and I reached out to him to hang. He was drunk and monologuing from the start about his new "friend" (he's so transparent) who makes so much money (we actually calculated it...and I'm not even shitting you) and supposedly has an awesome place in Midtown and had taken him out for drinks earlier and he was going out to the movies with the next day and walks on water in shoes lined with cash or whatever. OMG, someone who makes a lot of money and lives large and makes people jealous -- though not intentially because they're the most awesome person in the universe? Someone alert the press to that super special person! It was especially so fascinating when you're hearing about it for an hour or more. And his new job working in Manhattan. Dude, commuting is hard...apparently. Oh, how's my newish job? Who cares! How's my dad who just had neurosurgery less than two weeks ago? Eh...let's talk about that another time. Let's talk more about how you hate NYC fakers and the demands people make on your time....minus that awesome rich "friend!" Ladies and gentlemen, if like me you wondered back in junior high English class if a real-life Holden Caufieldesque person would be utterly insufferable, let me tell you: yes.

I was actually hating him more than a little bit and that was before we went to this random party and he disappeared on me and then got snippy when I got tired of sitting in one spot and wandered away on my own. But, this was the same guy who didn't want to date (officially) yet got mad at me because I wouldn't count the non-dating as dating anyway being a stickler for technicalities. Waiting for the train back to Brooklyn, he pushed me over the edge and I snapped "stop fucking talking, you're so annoying" and wandered away down the platform, wondering why I was just torturing myself by hanging out with him in the first place.

He's outlived his usefulness. I don't like him. He's not particularly nice or cool or insightful or interesting. He looks stupider than he acts. And there's not even the all those trumping factor of us hooking up counteract that. He's got zero that I want or need in my life. At this point, I should just never talk to him and/or kick him in the balls. But, I'm just irritating myself by turning back when I shouldn't. It's a disease really and knowing that it's wrong should count for something.

She's Pretty And I Like Her, But She's Too Well

I've been trying to tell myself this week that summer romances are overrated. Disdain and retreat is after all the last refuge of wounded pride. I don't even know what I want exactly. Non-rejection would be nice for a switch.

The past couple of weeks have just been a series of painfully demoralizing misadventures. I'm sick of the freaks, they just make me feel worse. I've been stood up, rejected, non-optioned, and made to endure ridiculous monologues about exes, pharmaceuticals, and dysfunction. It's bad enough trying to go through internally trying to get back where I was in some respects with being kicked halfway back down the hill. Even though I feel like the most well-adjusted girl in NYC in comparison to some of them, stick a fork in me, I'm done.

In the meantime, I'm focusing my dissatisfaction on Love. Okay, the décor kinda sucks. It's more than a little heavy on dark cave meets acid trip with that random picture of MLK Jr out of nowhere and the flow stopping door that separates the dancefloor from the rest of the place is super ill-advised. But, the best soundsystem and usually stellar lineups and it's always TOTALLY EMPTY. Okay, it's been not empty once for Alexander Robotnick, but that's one time in the damned near 10 that I've been there. A crying shame really. That place rules and with one good party, it could be amazing.

I went with PrincessNella, celebrating her birthday by dragging her around town and getting cheap drinks in this NYUcountry bar until the screechy idiots drove us out. The painfully empty party was fun. Sweet, glorious techno. Some random cornered me (literally) and decided to chat music with me. He was like "is this house? Or techno? I can't tell the difference. It sounds like progressive house to me" and I shook my head at him sadly. Boredom kept me from walking away until having practically pinned me into the narrow space and traded cards and asked me for my AIM name, he was casually all "I run a record label...with my wife. We have two kids..." and I gave him a well-deserved "WTF is wrong with you?" face and made an escape. Gah. I just don't know if it's them or me at this point.

I Know You, I Live You

The dilemma I face when I'm home and avoiding responsibilities: to buy the PS 1 summer season pass or not? I think I went a grand total of twice last year, but going halfsies with someone wouldn't make it too bad. (Like my mom likes to say, the less time I spend in bars, the more money I'd save. Should we let her know I'm not in bars that much anymore because I'm too busy chained to my desk? I don't think she believes it anyways.) Though it's still hard as hell to get there for my house. We shall see.

Dilemma #2: when shall I plan my weekend trip to Chicago for? Original plan was to go mid-July, but yeah...ain't happening. (You know what's sad, I work so much now that I was actually really beat about having two days off for the holiday because that was two less days to build into the production schedule, which is gonna make this week a bitch and a half! Help, I'm a pod person!) I guess I'm waiting until August now. I need some sort of activity to plan my trip around. Paging David the Chicago social director!

In general, I'm having a really bad month, but I'm trying to look on the bright side when I'm not mewing. Ever been like exhausted on multiple levels? It sucks. I also got the "I think of you as a really good friend," not as stinging as "I think of you like a sister" (Thank God. That one is like the basis of justifiable homicide or something), but saddening and infuriating all at once. I think I'm hitting crazy depressed cat lady territory. Mew. I blame the rain. Umm can I get a dose of wild and exciting summer stat?

What Is The Question Again?

To start off with an aside: Prefuse @ Summerstage on August 13th! Woo! Now, I feel even less regretful than I did yesterday (that is to say not very much) about totally skipping the May and June dates. I love summer in the city. Everyone swings by for free sooner or later!

Jamie Lidell show #4: ridiculously amazing. Alafairnadia and I made good on our promise and trudged the whole er, 7 or 8 blocks to Southpaw. Jimmy Edgar opened up his set kinda shakily.and we wandered around, coming face to face with Justin. He's my personal gauge of if where I am is gonna be good time or not. Ain't no party unless he's there, etc. I'm amused when people say that about me. I barely even go out anymore and free and/or cheap drinks are my standard of fun really. Anyhoo, we wandered back and the Edgar set picked up considerably. I'd never heard of him before, but now I'm a sorta fan. Yay for new music!

Jamie came on the stage and killed it. It was very techno heavy (but not as meandering and noodly as the Rothko show), but had straight up versions of things like my fave song "What's The Use?" and "Music Will Not Last" plus the Edgar/Lidell live collabo for "When I Come Back Around." "Game For Fools" and "Multiply" as the encore. And the encore was when things got interesting. He had to go the audience participation route. Too bad most of the audience was filled with utter fucking freaks. This one chick, who we'd been contemplating beating with a shoe for most of the show since she was running around screaming and vamping, was the first one to the mic and was all "Jamie, I want to rock your world!" Then came the guy who said: "I want to make romance in your body!" Er, what now? Not to mention the other clowns who decided to house the mic since they got confused and thought they were on Star Search. And all that before everyone got on stage and this "singer" decided to torture us with her painfully off key melodies before breaking into a rap. Chaos. And that was our cue to bounce.. David quipped when I was telling him the story that perhaps Jamie Lidell is the hipster Usher. Could be...

Amusingly enough, the one piece I forgot to mention about that party is what became the thing today. I work the floor above this company that's a big shop for music people of a certain ilk and am forever seeing these kids who work there in the elevator. Especially since there are only two and all. For the first week or two of work, there was this one kid I was seeing just about everytime I rode it and then one day riding my bus. And then there he was at the party! Curiosity killed the cat, etc, so I introduced myself to him saying we worked in the same building and stuff and he was all, "oh. yeah. I've seen you around" completely disinterested and intro'd me to some other guy who supposedly worked there too and disappeared. I was like "okay, dick, fuck you too" and didn't think anything else about it since I stopped seeing him after that as those things go. It'd be one thing if I was hitting on him (I wasn't), but a) I'd had a lot of $1 vodkas b) I was still the new girl around the office/building and I was just excited about running into someone I recognized from there c) I'd had some open bar stuff too before those $1 vodkas, so I was just being happy drunk friendly overall and him being kinda lame pissed me off that much more.

Fast forward to today when I'm coming out the building and dude's standing on the curb with some boxes. I wasn't going to say anything at all, but he's all like "hey!" I reply "hey" in a whatever tone and go about my business. Later on, I'm sitting at my desk and I spy this dude at the office door talking to one of my coworkers. And then he looks my way and waves. I kinda frown and look around all "is he waving at someone else?" and then wave back with a sorta puzzled expression when I establish that I'm the one. And then dude comes inside and walks over to me and starts shooting the shit like "hey! remember we met at that party? I wasn't sure if you recognized me earlier. I'm DJing the office party tomorrow" and on and on. And I reply kinda half frowning, hella confused. He blew me off and now he's acting like we're cool or something? See, this is why I've given up on guys for the time being. They're fucking bipolar. Plus that was embarrassing because I could see my coworkers all "hmm...who's this random?" And I'm dreading having to shoot the shit at the party. Utterly lame. Moral of this story: no point in being nice to the douches on 10.

For Your Trials And Tribulations

I'm considering selling my bass guitar. I've owned it about 6 years, hardly ever look at it, hardly ever think about it, definitely don't play it. It's like a reminder of failed endeavors. A logical solution would be to learn how to play it for once and for all, but that costs money and that's something I don't have to spend on random shit at the moment. (I'd like to take a moment out to send a bad thought or 10 to Farmer who greatly screwed up the April projected budget. Asshat.)

I'm more than a little bit scattered at the moment. As I'm known to do, when one aspect shapes up, I have to go work on something else. We're reconfiguring the music/social life. All we like listening to at the moment is techno, techno, techno, old soul, techno, techno, dub, tech-house remixes, and more techno. Detect a pattern? That's what I gathered as fresh fun for my ears from Miami more or less. We're planning a Sunday evening excursion to dance dance dance at Love and we're slightly amused that we won't have to feel bad since the party is over by midnight and all. Though if we're thoroughly wasted by then, that plus won't be so major. We need more dancing in our life. We also like boys who like techno, especially when they pretend like they don't know anything about it (despite collections of it).

It suddenly dawned on me that I like too many weirdos. Where did this love for crunchy artsy cornballs come from? I mean, when dude's dancing made me cringe so much that I had to immediately get him out of my line of vision, that's a problem. Some things are just too big to get over. Someone who isn't trying to go out and doesn't know what to do with himself when he is, just isn't for me. The Wes indoctrination has made me a little more accepting than I ought to be. I'm fine with opposites attracting, but I think we were from different planets. Fresh blood, post haste.

Like Sands Through The Hour Glass

I've apparently saved my birthday related freakout for the day before. I stumbled on some old pics when I was attempting to clean my room of some junk and was hit with this thought: "wow...that pic is from like 20 years ago. 20 fucking years! I'm conscious of shit I did 20 years ago! Goddamn, I'm fucking old."

It feels really funny to think of myself and my memories in terns of big old time blocks and stuff.
5 years ago, I was at Wes doing my spring semester sophomore year which would go on record as the best grades I ever got there.
10 years ago, I was in the 9th grade at Hunter, just finished up my first (and last) season of basketball, had a lot of upheaval in my home life.
15 years ago, I was in the tail end of 4th grade and I'm not sure if the episode where I rapped "Funky For You" to my whole class just before dismissal happened yet (yeah, it was that random).
20 years ago, I skipped pre-K that year and was kinda coasting until I started kindergarten, running around under my aunt and grandmother.

Part of me wants to do a down memory lane stroll tomorrow. Go back to all the places I grew up, my old schools, and stuff. Depends on how lazy I'm feeling. I've been trying to think if I'm where I imagined myself being at this age. I'm no world-famous writer or overly coupled or a world explorer, which were the only vague things I hoped that I as a grown-up would be like, but I think I grew up pretty damned cool just the same. The party Friday is gonna be ape. For every person who RSVPed, I added like another person to the guest list and invited damned near 60 people. If half of those come, I'll be more than satisfied. Yay for me and I'm looking forward to the next 25.

It Really Didn't Make Sense, Just To Leave This Unresolved

I'm going to try to challenge myself and post more. Especially since I'm going to have a bit more time on my hands soon -- well, until I fall into the work pit that is. I don't have much to say really. Planning the party in the nabe (next Friday night: my house or the less annoying local? Dilemma!), trying to extract myself from the dead end situation with the boy (I just can't continue to be excited about someone who I feel isn't excited by me), going show announcement crazy (two Man Man shows! Kelley Polar! Sam Prekop & Archer Prewitt walking distance from my house!), decorating the home space. I have yet to buy my Miami tickets (to leave Wednesday or Thursday? Aurgh!) yet I'm so there mentally already. I've realized this week that I've never quit a job the right way, like with a resignation instead of "well, I'm leaving the town, so I guess I'm done" or qutting in a fit of pique. It's kinda frightening actually!

The weekend was fun! Man Man show #2,876,305 was a good time. Kate Ace Fu threatened/promised/proposed running around in hot pants and she brought back bad memories of the infamous trampled by a guy in a yeti suit night and I had to fill Alafairnadia in to the story. People have really fucking shitty show manners and I am a rager, so they generally heard it from me. Really, what's up with standing an inch in front of someone and not only blocking their vision but also invading their personal space? Sure, it's gonna be cramped and that's to be expected, but when you can't even lead with an "excuse me," you can eat shit and die and I'll tell you as much. I was heated! From there, we were off to Jay-V's birthday celebration and I kicked myself for not going to the ATM since the bar had a $50 minimum. Ugh. We made a Scenic pitstop and had no sign of the random of indeterminate origins. He joins the mythical ranks of boys seen only once (or twice) that inspire a bit of mental headslapping and wistfulness down the road.

(As an aside, there's one custom I'm still trying to get my head around as "real" adult: giving someone your card. I actually had a long involved convo with PrincessNella about this. I dont' have a card -- though I will soon I believe -- since I don't have any official business or whatever and/or am still stuck in the "well, let's trade numbers or email addys" mode and/or shy away from things like that since I'm a networking dumbass. Weeks back at a party, this dude gave me his card. Business card yet not 9-5 business and it had all his contact info if I wanted to get in touch I suppose. He's stupid cute and I'm thinking the odds of seeing him around again are pretty slim unless I grease the wheels a bit. But the retardation comes in because I don't know if I got the card on a "hey, contact me and we should get to know each other" thing or if passing out cards is just the thing to do when you meet people a la the new handshaking. I can't deal with cards. I'd rather someone call/email/My Space message me, but of course, I do understand that if they don't have a card with that info, how would they know how to contact you? Everyone can't be a computer junkie with a lot of time on their hands, photographic memory, and craftiness I guess. I'm fucking stuck, man, because I kinda do want to get in contact with him. Advice someone? Anyone?)

Saturday night, I wandered off to Nublu and did my typical holding up the wall thing. I really like the place, but something about it always makes me super inhibited, even when I'm having a good time. I dunno what it is. Saw Justin who apparently spotted me at the Man Man show, but didn't even say hi (I don't actually mind, I'm just amused at busting his chops about it). Sunday had me up early (for me) and going to gym before I'd even had breakfast, then cooking and rearranging my furniture and stuff to make my bedroom feel like less of a crypt. I tried to bribe the tallest guys I know (Farmer and the boy) with home-cooked dinner to help me change my lightbulb which has been out for embarassingly long by now, but no dice. I'll just keep ruining my eyes and squinting in the lamp light, guys. Nice to be loved.

I Don't Get Money, Man, Money Get Me

Just under 2 weeks to go! I'm looking forward to this birthday so much. I'm definitely sick of being played out like a kid because I'm currently under 25. I mean it's ridiculous, as if once I cross that line, I'll be magically more mature. It annoys the hell out of me. A hardcore post-birthday perk is if I ever learn how to drive, I can finally get those good rates!

This year's present wishes include: the Trapped In The Closet DVD, a ticket for the Kelley Polar show, strawberry cheesecake with strawberry ice cream from Junior's, someone to tell me what those jeans with the gold-colored A on the back pockets are, and drinks at Milk & Honey. I'm pretty easy this year.

And to stop being all cryptic for just a minute, I've been working hard on resolution duty and I'd like to report that: I fucking rule. What I was alluding to last month was me feeling really bummed about my work situation for a long time and giving myself the deadline of March 17th to either get something new or walk away. And I found a place where I think I'll be a perfect fit and I start at the end of March. I haven't been this excited about a new venture in years and it's my opportunity to be as creative and successful as I've always wanted to, when I wasn't second guessing myself. So, I'm happy happy happy and pretty much just working on extracting myself from the present situation and looking forward to Miami/M3. Honestly, it just makes me feel really fucking good that I really am a desirable and I didn't go into school debt for my health. Go me! Job hunting and feeling stuck is mega demoralizing and all the props in the world go out to the friends and the fam for being so encouraging when I really was beginning to think I'd forever be a drone getting my brain sucked away. If this doesn't call for a celebration, I dunno what does!

Come Here, Baby, I Love Your Company

I've been thinking lately why I'll inherently never get ahead in certain spheres and just decided to opt out: I'm not a brown noser and I don't really stop myself from broadcasting if I think something is not worth the time. I can muddle through my own bullshit well enough, but I'd rather not have to deal with someone else's too.

On that front, want to hear a joke? The Plug Awards. That thing was an utter disaster. Unrehearsed, meandering, more people in the VIP section than the main floor at one point, shoddy production values, boring, and terrible in every sense. I don't even want to get into the "funny" little taped skits. The MTV VMAs has nothing to worry about. I was pretty sure that I spotted Shady in the crowd (surprise, surprise). I'm not really sure if he saw me or not (if he had, I'd probably get a random IM about it. Bleh.). The boy and I were wandering along and was just like "*shudder* We need to not walk that way." We stuck it out about an hour before making our escape.

Hanging with him was great. We met up near the venue and I pushed going to get a drink -- to ease the pain of staying late at work again and to kill some of the initial awkwardness. Despite a rough patch where he went off about marketing people and companies like the one I work for (don't give me that self-righteous hippie bull, son!), we were talking more over those two drinks than we may have...ever. Then off to the awards and to a Beans show at NYU which was the point of meeting up in the first place. We chattered and people watched, both confused by this thing one of the guy in the band had that was like a cross between a tape reel and a spinning wheel. Dude looked ridiculous throwing tape over his shoulder and we couldn't actually distinguish what kind of sound it made. I dunno. From there, more wandering and it was just insanely comfortable. Of course, it's up in the air like everything. I'm getting used to it.

Resolutions

01. Stop holding myself back
02. Be more creative
03. See a big project through to the completion
04. Do at least one "scary" thing
05. Save money
06. Go overseas
07. Write more
08. Slay at least one past ghost
09. Put happiness first
10. Clamp down on the emo

Maybe Your Baby Done Made Some Other Plans

The neighborfriend girls and I have been conferring about the shark-like atmosphere that seems to exist in some of our neighborhood haunts. The dudes tend to be aggressively on the prowl for single girls when they nine times out of ten are definitely not single themselves. It's just an annoying extra layer of questioning you have to endure. "Do you have a significant other...in any and every technicality we could think of? Is there some person that would be potentially upset to see us here together?" People who use the semantics game to do lies of omission really bug the fuck out of me. And then there's the curious case of the unabashed two-timers like this guy who frequents the local and I've seen numerous times making out with one of the waitresses. One day when I said the waitress is his girl, Alafairnadia corrected me with "nah, it's someone different. They come here together all the time." Hanging out with your girl where your other girl works? Erm, that's some Ricki Lake shit. Sorry. I think I just inherently don't like those who are having their cake and eating it too. They're just being selfish and greedy. Ooh...look at me, the moralist. Not quite. I just don't like overt sleaze.

Anyhoo...Farmer and I have mended fences. Or rather, he stopped being a dick and I gave him the "you're on my shit list" attitude, but things are swimming along again as well as they ever are I suppose. In his bipolar way, he magically reappeared on my buddy list and in our brief little chat, he let me know that he was coming back to town soon. I was a little underwhelmed honestly and imagine my surprise getting a phone call from him 10:30pm the next night all "hey, I'm in Queens. Can I stay with you?" I grred and cursed, but ultimately caved and we had a nice little visit once I got the gruffness out of my system and started to laugh at Team America. He's moving back to NYC and looking for a place. I randomly IMed with the boy on Saturday when I was bored and saw him pop up. He doesn't know my SN though because er, why and he's mostly in the dark about the various internet activities of mine. And I actually forgot to say who I was also. Shame on me. He said he's looking for a place also. He and Farmer should room together. What an odd couple! But it would at least give me a definite destination to avoid...for a minute anyways.

Shake It Off: Roundup Part 3

I was a goddamned bitch for a fair chunk of 2005. I think it's kinda funny now. Not as much as I did then...well, not always. I liked two guys for real in an honest open hearted sort of way and it didn't remotely work out which made me temporarily emo (The Brit and the boy) and everyone else I chewed up and spit out...or we reached a mutually acrimonious end. I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to have dated (in any interpretation of that word) me for the first half of '05.

Yet I was honestly nicer and more mellow than I've ever been. ("Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes." Word.) I've made some new friends that I think are great and have really good relationships with everyone that really matters to me and I feel settled here with a home in a way I haven't since I was a kid. I emotionally pulled myself up by the bootstraps through a lot of shit and I might not be satisfied with every aspect, but dude, I'm really happy now and I definitely wasn't this time last year. I think it was the first year I can say I was actively handling my shit. I was really worried about me for half the year and was just a fucking emo wreck, but I proved that I can do what I need to do for myself when I'm floundering and I've come out better for it.

I might still hate my job and be broke and not weigh what I would like and 10,000 other things but I can shake that shit off and be a functional awesome person making plans and living a good life. And I can think of ways to change that stuff for the better too instead of being held hostage by the feeling that everything sucks and there's no point in trying. I definitely streamlined even more than I was last year. Most of my fun happens in a 6 block radius from my apartment and I'm cool with that. I don't really do 90% of the bullshit stuff I used to. I guess standing on the wall looking at "cool" people did lose its novelty...but free drinks? Never. (Though that maybe could change too honestly.)

I'm really just happy that last year I can say most my really brokedown episodes weren't really stupid boy emo stuff. The thing with the boy made me really unhappy (sometimes still does) because fuck I was out there and it just hurt hurt hurt, but really I wasn't going to lose it totally over him. I was disappointed, yes, but I was a fucking great would-be girlfriend and I don't have a single regret. Likewise for The Brit. I could look at it that they didn't prompt the hysterics of a Farmer or a Mr. Sailor because I wasn't feeling it, but no, I just grew up and stopped being an overly melodramatic asshole for 2005. I could have a real crisis thinking about not wanting to be stuck in a career that currently feels mentally dead end and/or upset that I had a such big learning curve about how to be responsible and keep my head above water. But, a crying jag over some boys I was barely dating? No fucking way. And that's gotta be progress or something.

You Supplicate

Believe it or not, I just noticed the inverse relationship between the level of my job satisfaction and the amount of time I'm chained to my desk. I've been more negative than usual about the whole thing in the past month or so and it dawned on me, "that's because you scraped the November vacation and have been working non-stop since March, more or less, genius!" So, this week (until Friday at least), I'm hanging out around the house, watching As The World Turns (so good lately!), eating chips, and curling up next to my cat for midday naps. It's like a perpetual weekend and therefore, wonderful. But, I still am at a point where I'm ready to be a media bitch somewhere else.

I don't actually have nothing to do of course. I won tickets to a show at Canal Room tonight. Oh man, I love to win. Since I don't have anywhere to be early, I get to go to all those early week events that I usually wisely avoid just so I can get my lazy bones up and out easier. And then Wednesday, I've got the extra special plans of getting the gas meter read and my semi-annual checkup at the doctor's! How awesome! Thursday's going to be fairly pesky, in terms of feeling like a zombie on Friday morning, because the DHers are having a Festivus party. My head preemptively hurts already.

All around, things are pretty great right now. I let my nerd out and downloaded Firefox and now I'm in love with an internet browser. I'm asking for gift cards and/or money for Christmas, so I can make up the difference between my little pile of saved pennies and what I need to get that laptop. I had a delayed reaction to actually going off to listen to DFA79 after the show and I'm loving it! More energetic non-emo and slightly sleazy rock, please! If I wanted to dwell on things bugging me, I could consider the present fissure between Farmer and I (too much to get into really. It's always complicated) or the Friday emotional crisis I had where I wondered if all this stuff related to the boy is some sort of sign about him (no, no, no...we're not going there on any level). We're not unpacking those bags because I think it'd be nice to try and have December be like the only month of the year without some sort of romantic/emotional garbage getting me down. More kitty snuggling, less wallowing the dumps.

Made To Fade

The best part about this present long weekend is that it's only Saturday! That's pretty great. It's been a little low-key. I didn't get to eat as much as I should've and got to skip the "you're looking a little chunky..hehe" family talk. But, I've been doing enough of that myself (not in an overly depressing way though). We're going back on our last year slim down plan. I stumbled onto a stash of old pics on the comp and it was just like "shit, I think that was my peak, but I'd like to get some of this fat off my ass regardless." I don't think I'll ever really look like that again though -- hat aside. I think I just had a lot of non-jaded hopeful freshness about me that being in NYC again these past 2.5 years has beaten out of me. Eh...kidding.

Where The Heart Is

The past two weekends, I've barely gone beyond a one-mile radius of my apartment. One reason is laziness and another is the awesome batch of neighbors I've got. This week, I was hanging with at least one of them 4 out of 7 nights. They're all pretty much without fail amazingly cool and it's usually a pleasure.

Farmer's heading off soon to go back to traipsing around the world and I'm pretty beat about it. This friend thing is going swimmingly and it makes me feel so justified that I believed in him as a person even when things between us were at the worst. Soon, he shall be reunited with his girl and I'm really happy yet sad about it at the same time. I want to meet her and yell, "hey bitch, don't take my friend away. He means the world to me and I just got used to him being this wonderful rock to have around." But of course, I wouldn't do that (out loud) and instead I'm just "mew. Don't be a stranger, man."

The other day I asked him if I was territorial and I got no pause before the "yes." I was amused at the total lack of hesitation, but I know that it's true. I am loyal to a fault when I like someone and when someone else comes in making waves, the gloves are off, the nails are out, and you better watch your back. I've had plenty of arguments with friends as the years have passed over their significant others and my general disdain for them. I love my kids and only want the best. If they're with some wack trifling idiot, I'm not going to hide my feelings. After all, I don't have to like who they're with...I'm not fucking them and I generally don't feel like I ought to give more than a passing thought if I think they're idiot just like everyone else. I'll go out of my way to avoid people and be real cold. I'm a bitch, but hey, it's better than fronting.

There's very strange dynamics at play with the neighbors sometimes. We've built a bit of a clique that does it up on the reg. There's inside jokes, a truckload of messages, and of course, a little gossip to keep it all fun. [CENSORED] Alas, the world keeps turning and it keeps chatter over drinks interesting.

But, it's one of those things that seems ripe for a dramatic coda. If I was more inclined, I'd push fate along a bit. I theorized to Jay-V the other day that I'm just an alpha bitch in beta's clothing. I do so enjoy stirring up the pot. Still ultimately, not only do I hate getting my hands dirty, but pish to effort. For now, I'll just sit back and enjoy the soap opera shit.

I Won't Let You Fall Apart

My brain is currently holding me hostage. I've got mad posts sitting in draft mode because I can't think about anything that doesn't involve moping about the fucking boy for more than 5 minutes at a time. I've regressed to the angsty mess I thought I'd finally made peace with and I'm a bit unclear how to get out of that mode. It's rather irritating.

Somehow when I wasn't paying attention and/or thought I was okay about it, I got gobsmacked with all this despairing bullshit. I have no idea where it's coming from, but it's getting worse. And I'll tell you what, being on a concert-induced NIN kick isn't helping. I've pretty much lost all rational thought and I don't know what to do about it.

The really sickening part is though I like(d) him well enough, I don't really see what the big deal is. The first person I liked enough all year to actually tell people? No, not really. The first person in forever that I could really see myself starting something with? Nope. Some great ...something or another? Nyet. He's the one with the issues so this dissolution isn't even my fault. That it wasn't going to work out was fairly obvious and I was really good like last week at sucking it up and dealing. It's typical me really: I come out swinging like a hardman and then end up all pathetic and emo.

The stupidest thing of all the crazy thoughts surrounding him was that we look good together. I look good with some scruffy borderline hipster motherfucker? It makes me think I don't even know myself sometimes. But when we were surrounded on all sides by the young and drunken, I looked at him and smiled and for a brief second, it felt like the only place in the universe I was supposed to be. And that was really sweet if ultimately wrong. I need a lobotomy. But for now, going to the gym will have to do.

I Can't Get No Sleep

I greatly prefer the slow fizzle to the fast brakes, which would probably come as a surprise. I like to work things out in my head before accepting the inevitable, compared to blowouts where I'm sure to say something rash and then brood indefinitely afterwards. Besides, this is less messy now that I've had time to run the gamut from sad to pissed to *shrug*. Life goes on and that and it really wasn't that serious. Though I kinda wanted to be...I think.

This week's platter included Jamiroquai at the Nokia Theater on Monday. I was my typical intense obsessive self about them starting in '97 or so when I first saw that video (oh, you know which one), then bought the album, then watched the VMAs show, then saw them at the Garden, bought all the records, joined mailing lists, made up an IM name in tribute, and etc. The band hardly represents what it was back then and neither do I, but it didn't make it any less fantastic even if neither Jay nor I are as limber as we were all those years ago. Bill was the show companion, pinch-hitting for Trendvickster. We were late-ish (totally my fault) yet shoved our way to practically the front anyways. Cute was when this chick I had done my "excuse me" to before perching called herself getting argumentative with me. She was taller than me! She could've shut the fuck up and looked over my head! I blinked at her like "you're kidding, right?" and kept an even tone, though I wanted curse her out and beat her ass. I'm getting good at that in my old age. Because of Bill's encore speculations (it was Deeper Underground..pish), I've had "Mr Moon" and "Stillness In Time" stuck in my head all week. I've even gone as far as audibly singing to myself in public. Thanks, Bill. Where's that Jamiroquai post?!

I woke up Thursday hungover to the point of standing at 14th Street waiting for the local and thinking, "you know, we can just go behind that stairwell and vomit just a little. A little bit of vomiting might make us feel slightly better. It's worth a shot, right?" That was my whole day. With my appetite finally back, PrincessNella and I went to this show and I was way more interested in boxing out the grill than bands. We chatted with Ryan Man Man and got a new album sneak peek. Yay! (Even if I've seen so many shows that I hallucinated that some of those songs were already on the first one.) Sounds richer yet more restrained with a little death metal vocals action. Though I got a "you crazy?" look when I said "death metal sound." You can decide for yourself in '06.

I'm still trying to figure out a Halloween costume -- really, if I care enough to do something. (Last year: I was a tourist and the year before: disco diva, pronounced by everyone else Tina Turner.) We're thinking Medusa. I've got the hair for it no doubt.

Review The Situation, Take Part, Take Over

Sometimes changes just sneak up on you. I've been thinking a lot lately about how sometimes I don't recognize myself in good ways. When I first moved back, I had a million hopes and the huge fright that kept me from everything for years. I really latched onto the blog thinking that I had blank space to fill, so I better make it good. Off and on, I began to feel beholden to reporting everything and it started to feel like I was too busy living to write (debatably) interesting things and not actually doing anything for the sheer thrill of it. Then I went to the other extreme, doing everything for the pure visceral thrill. It's either in the pan or in the fire with me. But, I'm getting sorta old and tired. I've let go and settled down a lot. The infamous ill temper has mostly dissapated (but I'll still curse out a bitch!) and I'm even, like, mellow for the most part. It's kinda scary sometimes. The most random thing for me was looking down at my hands one day and realizing that I had nails. I've had the terrible habit of biting my nails pretty much ever since I've had teeth. Yet I looked down and saw these nails had kinda snuck up on me. Crazy. But, I keep scratching the shit out of myself which is annoying.

In the midst of all this, I met this kid who I'm having these interactions that are even straying from the norm. I used to always feel like I had to mediate myself or else I'd have to spend more time explaining/backtracking than just saying what I was about. He wants to know what I'm interested in and doesn't recoil from/challenge me when I'll let loose on, let's say, the Prefuse obsession. He'll be like "hmm...I don't know anything about that. Tell me more. I want to experience that too" and I'll think "where the hell have you been all my life?" (Not really, but that's way fucking sappy and I'm not that fucking mellow.) And I'm all "tell me about you and the work you're doing" and he'll go off talking about his art and the projects he wants to work on. And I say, "that's interesting, but I don't know much about that" totally without embarassment and it's no big deal for him to explain it to me. Cause there's nothing wrong with an honest information exchange. Sincerity is a lost art.

Over the weekend was a big