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It's been a crazed, bittersweet, and beautiful summer.

Without any warning, a lot of things transitioned naturally on their own. Some sad (another relationship spectacularly bit the dust, my lovely kitty of the past 7 years is on her last legs), some brilliant (the perfect present for an alkie: my own signature drink, the great new friends I've met this summer, new apartment). And in two weeks is school, the biggest change of all. I'm excited, terrified, and best of all: hopeful. And for once, moving forward with my eyes straight ahead instead of over my shoulder.

Wish me luck.

Arthur Russell - In The Light Of The Miracle

Sometimes life just feels better enjoyed and tossed about instead of documenting in precise detail every happening. I'm a neglectful blog mother, but I know the thrill of the word will come back sooner or later.

Life has been coming at me 150 mph and I've been doing my best to bob and weave. I turned 28, got into grad school, and found a freelance job all within a few weeks. Also my bathroom flooded for the third time due to my shitty upstairs neighbor (lease up in June! yes!), was in my first serious fist fight in over 10 years, and I'm trying to get past the sticker shock of taking out loans for 1 year of schooling that are more than what I owe for 4 of undergrad plus interest. I'm struggling with those extra pounds and trying to stay healthy. Also finally at a place where I can wrestle with wondering if I'm in love with a boy or in love with love while not being haunted by all those that came before. And I am so looking forward to Saturday when it's 70. In other words, I'm up to the same old shit...but generally happier. That's gotta count for something.

Skeletons - Eleven (It'll Rain)
Roy Ayers - We Live In Brooklyn, Baby
Rae and Christian - Get A Life
New Birth - Dream Merchant
Herbert - You Saw It All

The flip side of being a random magnet is accepting that life rarely will ever proceed without some sort of monkey wrench. I enter mid-January 2009 laid off my full-time corporate job with a college interview scheduled for 2 weeks from now. The name of the game right now is ambivalence. I feel like I'm in the midst of a time where I can do whatever I want, but instead I sit at home in some sort of existential crisis limbo. You can lead a horse to water, but drinking it is another story.

I am going to DC on Monday though to congregate in the masses and hopefully gain some inspiration to bring back to frigid NYC with me. I started a new blog to document the WTF reaction I have to so many commercials nowadays. I am extracting myself from romantic limbo to wait for the person who can make me giddy and can embrace falling for me too. (That's the one area I'm tired of aiming low in.) I'm trying to remember that there's about 11.5 months ahead of me and this is just the start. This year hasn't quite played out the way I want and I can still change it for the better.

One of the most important things I've taken from '08 is despite the best intentions (and wishes, hopes, and dreams), sometimes shit just doesn't work and you've got to pick up and move on. I've always been horrible with that kind of thing. I play tough, but occasionally I let things slip out of the marshmallow core and it's hard to repack shit once you've let it out. When I'm in emo mode, I let that crap drive me to distraction without fail. And eventually I accept the shipwreck and let melancholy set in. In dark days, I wonder if it's ever worth it since it always ends the same way. But, I know the answer is always yes. Sue me, I'm a closet romantic.

New Year's was predictably insane. I flew around town like a comet and had a hard come down that's taken all weekend to recover from. I'm trying to balance between waiting for things to happen (the app result, whether I'll even have a job at the end of the week) and taking care of business (the neverending apartment decoration project, building a better me). I'm just trying to scale down the fuckups this year and make it to 2010 without too much dumb shit happening. I'm aiming low this year. It's better that way.

Skeletons - The Things

After all this time, I've decided to get a tattoo. It's an idea I've been kicking around for a few years, trying to figure out what's a spot on my body that won't be too prone to expanding and contracting. I've decided on the inner wrist (once it's back to full motion range) and Excelsior as a bit of a tribute to 5 years of Latin, also the NYS motto, and generally good phrase.

The last couple of weeks have been a blur and at this moment, I'm just trying to make it through the next 10 weeks without financial/employment meltdown. Some random highlights: I finally got to Ikea to buy some much needed apartment gear, but don't really have the motivation to put that shit together. I got myself a shiny new cell phone. I have some ideas of starting a band fiercely gathering steam. I also went to Anthony's fun birthday party. And if dancing and glowing in the dark (thanks to paint) at a gay sex orgy ever comes up in an "I Never" game, got that covered.

There's been some annoying lowlights springing off the last wordy post. That random who spent too much time talking about his thwarted sex life and I ended up being chatty for a while. I found out that he was garbage picking freegan and the ick response overwhelmed the typical "that's random enough to intrigue me" train of thought. But, what really deaded him was the utter lack of a sense of humor. Some of the Raccoon folks had a house party and he was so spazzy about chatting with me that he spilled a whole cup of beer all over my clothes, the horror I tried to downplay with some jokes. But, he was so twitchy that he couldn't even laugh about it. One night a bit later, I dragged Alafairnadia to bingo night and introduced them. Her first words were "so I hear you eat food from the trash..." and he bolted. And hasn't spoken to me since.

I overheard him the other day at the bar ranting and raving to that same friend from that night somehow getting onto the topic of a long ago incident that occurred outside of another local bar. The scene he was setting started to sound vaguely familiar and I had a memory flashack to the night I met Trigger, he was aggravated by this local kid who he lent money and was being weaselly about paying it back. I didn't meet the object of his wrath at the time so it took until this Sunday for the connection to be made. Beef with Trigger aside (because he's volatile at best and that situation is none of my business), that kid referred to me as a fat girl that was preyed on at the bar in the story, so he can eat a dick. Let's chalk up that whole convoluted saga to the brain keeping me out of trouble for once.

I don't think it's a secret that things are generally sucking for me right now. 27 and everything that makes up this life is overwhelming and I'm on major lemonade duty. You just get kinda sick of wallowing after a while and I'm trying to make a point of having some goddamned fun again.

To that effect, I made a real effort this weekend to have a good time. Friday evening saw me rolling downtown with Faiks and N, having a much needed cocktail klatsch. I've hit the point where telling stories about the recent makes me laugh instead considering smacking myself, so that's a start. From there, off to my usual perch at the Raccoon, with a bizarre batches of randoms taking the seats cattycorner from me.

I'm still not that much of a fan of Bushwick even though I spend a shitload of time there nowadays. I've been hanging out steadily at that bar for over a year now (time flies!) and it's kind of amazing how the little world around it has changed over time. Right now is prime next wave of kids flooding into town and the demographics some nights are hilarious. New New York is weird and a bit alienating to me sometimes. Everywhere is supposedly super safe and wonderful where even ex-frat boys and sorority girls are slumming it in a ramshackle Bushwick railroad. Everything's fun and games until someone gets mugged...or killed. I'm semi-traumatized by a Raccoon friend telling me last week about a girl that was raped, strangled, and thrown off the roof three doors down from her and how she was scarred by letting curiosity get the better of her and looking out the window at the scene. They make everything look much prettier on TV than it is in real life. The worst part of the whole thing is that it didn't even make the news or the local neighborhood blog, which advertises itself as some kind of bullshit authority. Fucking crazy shit happens all the time. Some aspects of the city never changes.

As I was sitting on my stool watching TV, this pair of randoms sat near me. The guy half was a drunken tool and making a spectacle of himself. I shot him a few withering glances and then for whatever reason, they tried to chat with me and I wasn't having it. Then he got the brilliant idea of making noises and faces to get my attention and I ghosted them. I was definitely heartbroken when they went away. The next set were a guy and girl, having a hilarious conversation that about how she slept with every other guy in the neighborhood and might as well give him a chance too...except for them being "homies." I covered my face to stop from laughing out loud and later let him know that I had heard everything. He was a pretty good sport about it.

I've been trying to improve my shitty eating habits and I had a minor victory later on the way home when the local diner over there was closed (no 4am breakfast for me) and when I got off the train near home, so was the Crown and I resisted the urge to go two blocks out of my way for White Castle. Every little bit counts.

I lounged lazily Saturday until the family decided to make a guerilla visit. The funny thing about living alone now is that I'm constantly fielding calls from the 'rents checking up on me. Never when I'm in bed on a crying jag, but that's a good thing I think. It's good to know that someone will be checking up on me after a day or so if I fall off the grid. This place has been a bit of a trial. I had a major problem with my kitchen sink that stretched on for weeks and ended up getting fixed after going through the ceiling of my downstairs neighbor, installing a new pipe, and all sorts of ridiculous shit. But I felt proud last week that I put up my curtains by myself (complete with installing the brackets) despite my general decrepitude. I entertained here with a sink full of dishes and tried to get my dad to help me solve the broken futon mystery (missing pins is the answer) until they felt satisfied that I wasn't totally falling apart and left me alone. In my playlist is this random remix of Lollipop, so I wasn't thrilled when my little brother (9!) was saying that it was his favorite song. WTF? Kids nowadays...

I ended up getting bored later in the night and went on a wild goose chase for dinner and a potential party down in Dumbo. That didn't work out at all and I went to the Raccoon to see what was up. It was pretty quiet and I chatted with everyone until heading off to that fave of mine monthly warehouse party. Last time I went, I got exposed to a band that I'm playing to death nowadays, so I had high hopes. I ran into some Raccoon buddies and was having a shenanigans-free time until we merged with another crew and then it all became a blur. I woke up at 8:30 in a very compromising position in an art cave statue with the party very over. The space is unreal with the lights up and no people or music. Everything that looks so mysterious and fun in the dark or with flashing lights takes on a comical air with the bright sunlight washing over it. I stepped out into the morning feeling like a vampire and fell deeply asleep once my head touched the pillow. I had a very good time.

I've always been susceptible to the bizarre gesture. It's due to contrarianism at its worst. Sometimes I feel like I live my life like a shell game. Plain cups hiding a jewel and occasionally someone picks the right one and gets something special. Or else, they get nothing but disappointment.

I'll admit that I came out on a Monday night looking for trouble...of some sort. I was in the midst of moving inertia and it seemed like good a night as any to abandon myself to whiskey and conversation and see who I ran into. I was in the midst of a sentence when he appeared next to me and my friend. We gave each other a mutual dismissive glance when he tried to interrupt. Keep it moving, buddy. Then he ordered a Jameson and High Life and went projectile about a minute later. That deserved an eyebrow raise.

He babbled about bad falafel and rushed to clean it up and we at his end of the bar laughed cruelly. Who would think that'd lead to any sort of a conversation? Then again, you're not me. I was looking for trouble and I found it.

Five months later, I'm trying to shake the badness. This year has been epically disastrous. Almost ironically since I've been so focused since December on not making the wrong decisions and instead choosing the bad option every step of the way. I've spent a lot of time thinking of that old conversation about finding your fit. Farmer apparently was right and he's got plenty to show for it, but my gut always seems to be wrong. That self-imposed exile year and change was obviously a waste of time if the first one out of the gate knocked me square on my ass worse than before. The Boy almost doesn't look so bad in comparison now. But, let's pretend I never said that.

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.

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.