To Love Somebody

I know that my words cannot adequately describe MS and Groomzilla's wedding this past weekend. I've been thinking about how to write about this, and I can't. Let's just say that it made me believe in the love that surrounds everyone, and the love between two people that are made for each other.

I Have Hope

If I ever decide to 'tie the knot', I'm doing it here. Awesome.

I Just Don't Get It

Why am I single? I ask this question a lot (usually in self-mocking after I've done something particularly stupid) and never have a satisfactory answer.

Personality? Awesome.
Looks? Awesome.
Intelligence? Awesome.
Sense of Humor? Awesome.
Swimsuit Competition? Awesome.

But today, that question becomes extraordinarily tricky. I chose this humid, 87 degree day to make meatballs, a process which requires slow-cooking on my stove for at least two hours. I just tasted the product of my labor and I AM THE BEST COOK THAT EVER WALKED THE FACE OF THIS EARTH.

Balance

This morning, as I carefully pour Splenda into my iced coffee, and measure out my Special K with Protein and Vanilla Silk, it strikes me as funny that I am being so careful with my diet, because I ate an entire box of Milk Duds at 1 am.

Riveting

So it turns out this not working thing? Doesn't really make good blog fodder.

Seriously, nothing going on here.

1. Reading. I returned 7 books to the library on Monday. I had read all of them since my previous visit on Friday. My post-grad school rule: if the cover has bright colors and the content requires no thought, I'm checking it out. [Also, I don't know why, but other library patrons like to ask me questions, usually about how to use the computer. I must have 'MSW' tattoed on my forehead, because their inquiries always lead to personal disclosures. Example: I demonstrate the magic of Google for the man next to me, which leads to a discussion of his prior felonies and the confession of his dream of becoming an x-ray technician.]

2. Yoga. I sweat a lot. I wonder what yoga is going to be like in August when it is really hot outside. I try to do a headstand without using the wall. If Cute Yoga Guy is there, I think about asking him if he wants to get coffee after class.

3. Internet. Check e-mail. Check socialservice.com, idealist.org, monster.com, nytimes.com. Read other blogs. Read archived 'Grey's Anatomy' recaps on televisionwithoutpity.com. Check e-mail. Check job sites again. Check e-mail. Send resumes. Edit my cover letter.

4. Walking. Walk around my neighborhood. Walk up 9th Avenue until it becomes Columbus. Walk to Central Park. Walk across town. Walk downtown to Chelsea. Walk along the Hudson River.

5. Fret about my bank balance.

6. Call people. Get voicemail. Text people. Get no response.

7. Look out my window. Listen to the 24hour party taking place just beyond my front door with its various cast of characters who are perpetually drunk, stoned, or both.

8. Nap.

I Am Employed

This weekend, DM pointed out to me that I *do* have a job this summer. Your job, she says, is Working It. I think she was referring to my, um, social schedule, which has been unusually full lately, and thus is starting to feel like employment. Her commentary (which was and is hilarious, btw.) took place on the 8:05 am NJ Transit train to Little Silver, Saturday morning.

Friday was supposed to be an early night, but I had a somewhat traumatic date (details to follow), that I needed to analyze afterwards with MM and a large jug of white wine on her roofdeck. I would add that I sampled her miracle acne treatment cream while I was there, and thus walked home through my busy neighborhood with large spots of white medication all over my face. MS was on his way home from Ray's Pizza, and when I went downstairs to chat with him for a few minutes, took one look at me, cracked up, and asked what the fuck was all over my face.

The next thing I knew, I was climbing into bed at 3:30 am, and setting my alarm clock for 6:45. Blurg.

The beach, however, was a welcome retreat from the city, and aside from another traumatic experience with NJ Transit later that day (details to follow), Saturday was lovely.

Yoga

I love yoga. I just figured out why I love it. There are poses, and you find your own way, your own comfort within the pose. Any when your instructor comes around and adjusts you within your pose, I never get the feeling that I've done it wrong. The adjustment just feels like something I've found on my own, that feels even better to me.

There are few things that I can do in my life that aren't impacted by the outside world. Yoga is one of them.

Red Hook

I am sitting on my couch this morning, very contentedly sipping Fairway Brooklyn Java coffee and eyeing the pile of laundry that is threatening to overtake my apartment. The biggest point of satisfaction is that I obtained the coffee without having to battle rabid geriatrics on the UWS. This is because I spent the day in Red Hook yesterday, and part of the exploration included the new Fairway, which was awesome (note to self: look into possible overuse of the word 'awesome' lately: check with family, friends and job applications).

Red Hook is seriously cool. I imagine the locals were shaking their heads at the sight of me and my traveling companion, clutching our TONY and walking through their quiet streets. Who knew that cruise ships departed from the Red Hook harbor, or that the best key lime pie could be eaten outside by a newly restored pier? Or that the waterfront affords views of the Statue of Liberty, downtown Manhattan and Staten Island (yes, Staten Island!) ? Yesterday felt like a mini-vacation, which was topped off by a bottle of Malbec and a delicious dinner.

I'm kinda starting to love this not-working thing...

All Grown Up

I really hope that you *can't* be arrested for awesomeness. Because if you can, my friends and family are in BIG trouble.

The last of my graduation hoopla was held on Saturday, at my brother and SIL's house in NJ. The New Yorkers braved public transport without incident (except for a near brush with death for MA who dropped his sunglasses and was nearly run over by a car, and the 40 minute wait for the return bus). The weather was perfect. We played bocce and croquet. We ate my mother's homeade cookies like it was our job. We lolled about on the front lawn, marveling at the luxury of green grass and trees. We went through an entire tray of eggplant rollatini, 2 cases of beer, most of a bottle of vodka, and 5 bottles of wine.

I am still overwhelmed by the love and support that I receive from my family and friends. Not to mention the presents...

Okay, back to my regularly scheduled job search.

TMI

Conversation with my Sister-In-Law:

ridiculouschick:...So, I'm dating again.

SIL: Again? Wait, what about that guy you told me about in March? The doctor?

rc: Oh. Right. Yeah, it didn't really work out with A.

SIL: But I thought it was going really well? You really liked him!

rc: Well, sure. But then he went home for Passover and reconnected with his Judaism, And then blew me off. And finally told me about 3 weeks later that he needed to only date Jewish women. Unfortunately, he figured that out after we had slept together...[forced laughter].

SIL: [awkward silence]

Running

Thoughts during my 4-mile run yesterday:

1. I'm going to die.
2. It's really hot out here.
3. The Hudson River does not look at all refreshing.
4. How many times in a row can I listen to 'Crazy' by Gnarls Barkley without actually driving myself crazy?
5. I'm going to die.
6. There's a lot of goose shit on this running path.
7. That twisted, rusty, abandoned pier is kinda cool looking.
8. I hope I don't see anyone I know.
9. Breathe. Breathe.
10. WHEN AM I GOING TO GET A JOB? OR AT THE VERY LEAST, AN INTERVIEW?
11. I'm going to die.
12. Can I walk a little bit now? I think I can walk a little bit now...
13. My music is very angry-sounding.
14. Running is waaaaay easier than yoga.
15. Breathe.
16. I should have worn a short-sleeve shirt.
17. I think I'm sweating Kettle One.
18. The exhaust coming from the West Side Highway is awesome.
19. I'm going to die.
20. I need a drink. Not water.

Moma Rage

On Wednesday, DM and I went to the Museum of Modern Art. In the rain. Along with everyone other New Yorker/New York tourist. It was crowded. It was annoying. Why do people feel the need to take pictures of art? Seriously. Who's going to look at that shit? Chances are, you're just going to bore your friends back home in Ohio with endless slideshows of the 'cultural activities' that you pursued in the big city, sandwiched between shots of the 'adorable' homeless person and the 'really tall' buildings.

I knew it was time to leave when we witnessed several idiots using flash photography (which is prohibited in all museums, no?) and I said, possibly a touch too loudly 'God, just go back to wherever you came from and ruin your own art", a comment which DM tagged as both xenophobic and elitist.

Anniversary

My wedding would have been four years ago today, had not my long-absent common sense intervened and compelled me away from what would have inevitably been a nightmarish marriage. Nonetheless, this is a strange sort of anniversary for me. I'm sitting here thinking about all that has happened since June 8, 2002.

I will choose to spend the day celebrating that narrowly-dodged bullet...

Busy Work

So far today in ridiculousworld:

- Try not to snicker as my yoga instructor asks the class to picture their tailbones (read:butt) rooting through the floor, through the restaurant downstairs to the earth in the island of Manhattan. Somehow, I don't think the good people at Vynl appreciate my ass traveling through their place of business.

- Almost get wiped out by rogue bike messenger who is speeding through the intersection against the light. Reconsider my decision to leave the house at all.

- Use DSM-IV TR Casebook to force extra liquid out of tofu, which is sandwiched between two plates, in preparation for marinating. Spend the next half-hour leafing through the book the find the strangest mental disorder.

- Chat with super as he is taking the garbage to the curb. Sympathize regarding tenants who don't separate their recyclables or tie their garbage bags tightly.

- Call 5 friends and get voicemail for everyone, and then realize that everyone else IN THE WORLD is at work.

- Draw an intricate map in MicrosoftWord which details the directions from the bus to my brother's house in preparation for my graduation party this weekend. Send map to attendees, realize they will now know exactly how much spare time I have on my hands.

- Job search. 'Nuff said.

In Love

I have three new boyfriends...and I'm willing to share.

One

Two

Three

Beer Garden, Kinder Garden

Last night, Groom, MS and I traveled to Astoria to celebrate JV's surprise 30th birthday at the Bohemian Beer Garden. I'd never been there before and was fascinated by the mix of beer-swilling frat boys and Czech locals in the huge outdoor space. Thankfully, it had stopped raining at this point, and we located our friends and grabbed drinks.

While we were waiting for JV to arrive, our muted revelry was interupted by the extremely angry bar manager/owner/wanna-be FBI agent, who had been alerted to the presence of some very menacing cupcakes on our table. Seriously, MA had purchased cupcakes for the party, was refused entry with the cupcakes, the cupcakes were confiscated by the rent-a-cop/bouncer, MA went to plead his case with the bar staff, and MA was permitted to retrieve 4 of the 12 cupcakes which were sitting (rather sadly) on our table. The manager ranted and raved, accused us of trying to have his business shut down by the health department and then stomped away. (Don't worry. We saw him throughout the night when venturing inside to use the bathroom and were the lucky recipients of his glare. Fun.)

JV arrived soon after that and was duly surprised.

I don't really drink beer, and I don't generally eat kielbasa, but when in Rome (or Astoria)...

Playing Games

On Friday night, after a particularly grueling yoga class, I met up with MS and DM for what was intended to be a low-key night. Right. Thanks to the stupidity of the MTA and subway flooding, DM had endured the commute from hell. She and MS had already sucked back 2 drinks by the time I joined them.

We went to dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant. We had more drinks.

We decided that hanging out at Groom and MS's apartment would the best plan for the remainder of the night. We decided this because we are all broke (economical); it was shitty and rainy out (logical); and we've been out and about in the neighborhood far too much lately (local bar burnout).

We played Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit. We surfed various websites. We evaluated my match.com profile. We sampled wine for MS & Groom's upcoming wedding. We made stupid jokes. We kept drinking. We took frequent trips up to the roof to smoke. We discovered what happpens to a Swedish Fish when you let it soak in vodka for two hours. We determined that we have known each other for 16 years. We lost track of time...

...which explains why a) Groom found us dancing around the living room when he got home at 3:00 am, soaked and decidely less enthusiastic about the current song playing on the stereo; b) we finished 2 bottles of wine, a small bottle of Grey Goose, 3/4 of a bag of Trader Joe's soy chips, and about 200 Swedish Fish; and c) I got home at 4:30 am.

Tomorrow

I'm getting internet at home. Ah, the luxury. And just think about how much more creative my posts will be from my couch as opposed to the NYPL or the local Starbucks!

Goose Gossage. Goose Gossage!

Last night, JP and I ventured out to Bryant Park to watch the Yankees play the Tigers. Luckily, my Yankee boyfriend was pitching, they were selling hotdogs and we had contraband Guinness.

I love doing free stuff outside in the city in the summer...

Duh

Striking up a conversation with a stranger in Starbucks who is clutching a large bouquet of flowers, gulping down black coffee and stepping outside to chain-smoke - all in an effort to 'gather his wits' before presenting said flowers to his friend toward whom he 'acted inexecusably badly' last weekend - will not make your day more interesting. It's mostly just annoying.

My So-Called Life

What can I tell you about my activities lately? Life has dramatically slowed down since school ended. But in case you're interested, here's a general daily schedule:

6:45-7:00 am: jolt awake and start to strategize my daily job search
8:00 am: get lulled back to sleep by the ocean sounds on my alarm clock
8:30 am: cereal, shower, Today Show
9:30-2:30 am: Starbucks - apply for jobs, read blogs, check e-mail obsessively, manage to make a grande iced coffee last for 5 hours
2:30 - evening: reading, crossword, yoga, the park

My nightly social schedule is suprirsingly full, but I don't see how that's very helpful in allleviating my paranoia regarding my job search...

If You Can't Feel Good, At Least Look Good

After a semi-crazy night on Sunday, I felt a little...fragile...yesterday when I met up with Ju to go to the movies. Being the kind friend that she is, she even remarked that I looked 'great!' and complimented the appearance of my skin. And then patiently waited while I sucked down a large lemonade and a cobb salad in an effort to cure my half-hangover without the aid of McDonalds.

In light of her comments, I'd like to dedicate this post to my two new best friends:

Lloyd, Lloyd, Null and Void

Please note:

I don't appreciate loud music outside my window at 4:00 am, unless you are holding a radio above your head and professing your love for me.

Thank you,
ridiculouschick

Atlantic City, Baby!

So, after working at the Clinton Community Garden booth during the street fair on Saturday, I journeyed to Hoboken, where The Lawyer and LP picked me up for our trip down to Atlantic City. (Can I just interject to say that I still loathe the PATH? Thank you.)

I have stories, people. In fact, I might even say that I have Stories. Such as:

• The Fainting Lady who passed out in line to the Borgata Buffet, only to be loaded into a wheelchair by security, pushed past everyone still waiting in line and into the restaurant, where she was promptly seated. I need to learn to faint on command, apparently.
• 5 Puking Girls, who were way too drunk, way too early.
• A bazillion Bachelorettes, in requisite cheesy veils and garters, being egged on by their friends to perform ridiculous tasks like body shots and obtaining a stranger's underwear.
• Hatchet-faced Banana Clip lady, yelling at her family, also on the buffet line.
• Angry Omelet Woman, yelling at someone for requesting cheese. (We spent a lot of time at the buffet.)
• Dysfunctional Married Couple at the Depeche Mode concert who battled to determine who could be the most passive-aggressive. (The woman won when she thrust her purse at her husband and he ended up holding it for the remainder of the concert while she danced).
• Crazy Dancer at the B Bar who was dancing and rubbing against anyone who would indulge him, also, dragging chairs over to groups of people so he could gyrate more effectively in front of them.

Of course, I'm including the three of us in the cast of characters. After the concert, we played some slots, downed 4 drinks and headed to a bar on the casino floor. I lost The Lawyer and LP for a while since the bar was playing 'Wild Things' and 'Showgirls' on their televisions, and they were entranced. Who said there were no gay bars at The Borgata?

LP left to gamble more, while The Lawyer donned her homo-invisibility cloak which allowed her to obtain free shots and drinks from a one of the guys who was talking to us. She was also dancing with him, offering him marital advice, and gave him her number at the end of the night. LP and I handled this in a mature way, by bringing her a plate full of sausage at the buffet the next morning, and suggesting that she was permanently changing teams.

And as for me? Well, I might have been hanging out with a cute guy. And then I might have been seen kissing him at the bar. Yes, I might have been That Drunk Girl.

Wed to my Bed

Presumably in anticipation of tomorrow's 9th Avenue Food Festival, there is a porta-potty directly outside the front door of my apartment building. I can't even begin to imagine how pleasant this is going to be by the end of the day on Sunday, what with the hordes of people that come to the neighborhood each year.

Last night, MM and I downed several margaritas at El Centro and then continued on to her apartment, where we ate Nutter Butters, drank the hell out of a bottle of white wine, played Trivial Pursuit, attempted to find the saddest songs on our iPods, and purchased concert tickets (I completely forgot about the tickets until I checked my bank balance this morning).

Tomorrow night, I'm heading down to AC with The Lawyer to see Depeche Mode (which I also completely forgot about until I was talking with The Lawyer and asking her when I was going to see her this weekend, and she called me an asshole and reminded me about the concert).

JP and I are in the midst of attempting to arrange a weekend trip to Ireland this summer. We're anticipating drinking Guinness at the source and flirting with my favorite Irish bartender. Actually, the flirting part is just me - JP will most likely have no part of that.

I also need to: apply for the licensing exam, start doing yoga every day, and find a job. With all of this going on, is it any wonder that I've decided to cloister myself in my apartment tonight? My goal is to be in my pajamas by 7:00 pm.

Stranger by the Day

I'm an official MSW! And officially hung over.

Graduation was yesterday. The reading of the names took forever. My class had 400+ people, and the deans were very concerned with reading everyone's name correctly. It was so...social worky ('Is this the right pronounciation?' 'How do you feel about me reading your name this way?' Do you want to talk about me reading your name?' 'Are you ready to graduate?' 'Are you feeling okay about graduation?').

I had a slight wardrobe malfunction (the strap on my dress broke while I was hugging a friend after the ceremony) which was thankfully covered by my gown.

And now, I'm off to a job interview...degree in hand.

We Are Family

A short time ago, LK and I were talking about friendship and support. (I am now going to totally mangle and mis-remember this conversation. LK, please feel free to correct and comment...). If life can be viewed as a journey, then we need to look around once and a while and figure out who is with us, no matter what we do. We plan our own path, not based upon a guarentee of who will be waiting at the end, but who will be with us along the way. (It's either that, or we move through life as an island, totally shunning all connections and relational activities).

I am just beginning to understand how lucky I am to have an extraordinary support system. I've created a family of my own who picks me up when I fall down, listens to me, pushes me to make the difficult choices, and does not question me when I decide to jump. And I know that the picture will look the same at every stage in my life.

Thank you to all my wonderful, beautiful friends!!!

Goodbye To You

I will not be afraid of falling in love. I will not hide my feelings because they are inconvenient to you, or because they scare you, or because you cannot understand me. I will not put my life on hold while you try to decide if you like me enough to be with me. I will not regret what could have been. I will not make choices based upon what matters to other people. I will not let you define how I should react. I will not look back and wonder why you acted the way that you did. I will not cry over you.

The art of losing isn't hard to master. I'll miss you, but I care about me more.

New York

Current Music: 'Where Does The Good Go?' - Tegan and Sara

I had an interview for a side project on Monday that has nothing to do with my degree. I don't think it's going to go anywhere, and I'm not sure I want it to, and I can't really say more than that because of something that I signed. Anyway...during the interview, I was asked why I live in New York. Well.

New York expects you to give as it takes from you. It's never as simple as just living here. It's loud and rude and lonely and everyone seems to be looking you over and deciding that you're not something enough. It's competitive and rushed and hard. On some days, you might feel like you're stepping out of your front door into a war zone, where you'll encounter the $20 bill monster who lurks on your sidewalk; a slow, crowded, dirty subway car; various micro-aggressions; and overpriced coffee. But if you look closely enough, the city gives in little ways. The teenager who gives up his seat on the subway for a tired mother carrying her toddler. A stranger who takes the time to return a cell phone. The community garden nestled between the craziness of 9th and 10th Avenues that you can access for $5 per year. A woman who stops to ask you about your nose ring and tells you how perfect it looks on you.

I love and hate New York. I don't think I'll ever live anywhere else.

Intractable

I'm feeling a little...complicated. I want to rage and scream and howl at the world. I want to sit for hours in silence in the safe space on the cool tile of my bathroom floor. I want to be in a crowd. I want to play sad music and sob until my eyes swell and my throat aches. I want to laugh in the sunshine. I want to be numb. I want to be alone.

I get out of bed at 6:00 am and run along the Hudson, letting the wind dry the tears from my face, hoping for exhaustion, a blessing, some relief. I ignore my phone and my doorbell. I sit at my window ledge and look down at you. I let the night into my apartment, leaving the lights off and watching the shadows grow longer on the floor. I wrap myself in a blanket and curl into a ball.

I can't control the world, other than this place I carve out for myself.

95% Done

I'm just about finished with graduate school. I have a paper to hand in at 6:00 pm, internship/last class tomorrow, internship Thursday, and then...nothing.

Everyone around me seems to be feeling celebratory. I just want to hole up in my apartment and process everything. Alone.

My friend Megan put it perfectly. When she was in my position, leaving graduate school, "I felt like the madwoman in the attic, and everyone else wanted to be out on the lawn..."

Resilience

We emerge from the hospital ED in the cool breeze of the morning. The street looks so different in daylight.

She's just stopped crying, and her sunglasses hide her swollen eyes.

I check one last time to make sure she is ok, and hail her a cab. As she hugs me goodbye, I notice that she's applied mascara and lipstick. The bruises around her neck can't be covered; they are the visible reminders that her boyfriend (a martial arts expert) tried to choke her to death in the early dawn hours. When that didn't work, he slammed her into the ground and kicked her. He loses, though, because she's beautifully alive.

She adjusts her jacket, checks for her house keys, and steps into the cab with a last wave in my direction. I offer a silent prayer that she'll be safe, and start my walk home.

Faith Restored

Dear Kevin:

Last night you found my cell phone in a cab. Thankfully, you didn't turn it in to the driver, which would have ensured that it would have been buried forever in some ginormous New York City Taxi and Livery Commission lost-and-found. Instead you called the last number I had dialed, spoke with esb, and made arrangements for me to pick up the phone with your doorman.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! While you were speaking to my friend, DJ and I were trying to strategize how I was going to write my mediation paper and go to Verizon and somehow manage to be available at 6:00 pm for my volunteeer shift. Oh, and find $300.00 to replace my phone.

My eternal thanks,
ridiculouschick

PS: You sound cute on the phone. Can I buy you a drink sometime?

Oh, It's On

I just got a dress for graduation! And, owing to my budget and the cost of the dress, this will also be worn to my social work 'gala' and MS & Groom's wedding...

Wisdom, From Me To You

• If you're hosting a gay wedding shower, and looking for theme ideas, googling 'gay wedding shower' will not produce the intended results.
  
• It's an especially bad idea to google this term while at work.
• Old Navy flip flops are not the recommended footwear when walking 3.5 miles to school.
• A long day spent researching and writing a paper is best followed by spending time with an ultra-supportive friend.
• If a Corona and a taco become part of the plan, it's even better.
• Online shopping for a new dress for your end-of-the-year social work gala is a good use of your time.
• Job hunting is a demoralizing process which can paralyze your self-esteem.
• Discussions regarding the state of your current romantic relationship are best left alone until you're averaging at least 5 hours of sleep per night.
  
• When everything in your life after May 4th is undefined and undecided, the best you can do is close your eyes, smile, and take the leap, trusting that everything will happen as it should.
• And maybe smoke some cigarettes along the way.
  

Follow Through

Oh, this is the start of something good
Don't you agree?
I haven't felt like this in so many moons
You know what I mean?
And we can build through this destruction
As we are standing on our feet
So, since you want to be with me
You'll have to follow through
With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you
You to stick around
I'll see you everyday
But you have to follow through
You have to follow through
These reeling emotions they just keep me alive
They keep me in tune
Oh, look what I'm holding here in my fire
This is for you
Am I too obvious to preach it?
You're so hypnotic on my heart
So, since you want to be with me
You'll have to follow through
With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you
You to stick around
I'll see you everyday
But you have to follow through
You have to follow through
The words you say to me are unlike anything
That's ever been said
And what you do to me is unlike anything
That's ever been
Am I too obvious to preach it?
You're so hypnotic on my heart
So, since you want to be with me
You'll have to follow through
With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you
(For) you to stick around
I'll see you everyday
But you'll have to follow through
With every word you say
An I, all I really want is you (For) you to stick around
I'll see everyday
But you have to follow through
You have to follow through
You're gonna have to follow
Oh, this is the start of something good
Don't you agree?

*Gavin Degraw

- You're either with me or against me. Figure it out.

Finals

Curernt Music: 'Murder on the Dancefloor' - Sophie Ellis Bextor

I'm in the school computer lab where I've once again taken up residence. I'm slightly hungover from MS and Groom's wedding shower last night. There are bags under my eyes and a developing pimple on my chin. My cell phone battery is almost dead. My iPod is on shuffle, and that battery is dying too. I have no idea what my hair looks like, or how much smudged mascara I'm wearing. My current attire: a battered t-shirt and jeans that are badly in need of laundering. Since I woke up this morning, I've had a cupcake, some wheat thins and a diet coke. I haven't been home in three days. I miss my apartment. I miss the outside world. I miss my friends and I miss A.

The final finals. Thank god.

Bad Timing

Current Music: 'Roads' - Portishead

I think I'm getting sick today. I thought it might just be job fair jitters, but I have no appetite. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I feel all weak and shaky, like my legs could collapse from under me.

Too bad I have a shitload of work to do...

On The Table

Today, it's all about choices.

• Go to see my friend J's band in Park Slope OR go to the social work building and study?
• Iced Venti Skim Mocha OR Iced Venti Soy Mocha? (the venti is non-negotiable)
• Apply for a job working with the exact population/social issue that I'm interested in which will barely pay my rent OR apply for a hospital job that is somewhat close to what I'm looking for, with a higher salary?
• Go to yoga OR go running?
• Lunch: peanut butter M&M's OR grilled chicken and brussel sprouts?

That's How I Roll

In the midst of the gorgeousness of this past Saturday, I went to the Boat Basin Cafe to meet up with DM and her sister for a few drinks. Because I had spent the morning in the park in the sun, and hadn't eaten much that day, I was a little bit drunk by the time I came home. The funny part of this story is that I was also a little bit indignant.

Picture this: me, attemtping to swagger but there's more stumbling than swaggering, in my new wedge espadrilles and my new jeans (which I wear all the time), sunburned, shivering slightly in my tank top, on the phone with The Lawyer, yelling about how hot I am and What's wrong with him? and Is he fucking crazy? and It's his loss. And this is all taking place among the crowds of people who are waiting to get into various Broadway shows, who are watching me, their unexpected pre-show entertainment.

Good Things

Monday morning, I'm exhausted and a little shaky, so I'm looking for some things to be happy about.

• I am wearing my J. Crew khakis, which haven't fit for the past two years
• There is a lot of coffee at my internship
• The sun is shining
• I'm going to yoga tonight with my favorite teacher, Stacey
• I'm getting together with DJ after that
• School will be over in 3 short weeks

Spring in New York

Current music: 'Unemployed Boyfriend' - Everclear


Last night, The Lawyer and I went to an early movie, and then met up with MS for drinks at the new gay bar in my neighborhood, which is pretty fuckin' fabulous. There's this giant window on the second floor which looks onto 51st Street, so you can sit with your drink and watch the parade of people walking by. Downstairs, there's flavor-infused vodka and a bricked patio area. After a drink or three, The Lawyer journeyed home and MS and I went to Druid's for another drink (I've really embraced this whole drinking thing again, apparently). Over vodka and soda, we had a not-entirely-clear conversation about how our careers are similar in that we both want to save the world (or something close to that, the details are hazy. I'm mean, I do want to save the world, but I think it's kind of a big job, and there are times when I'm not sure that I'm up for that kind of challenge. I'd probably like to have time for other stuff, like a personal life. If I'm engaged with saving the world, do I have time for a boyfriend?). Eventually, we wandered outside, speculating about how The Mosaic building is going to change 10th Avenue, and then stood outside our apartments and talked for another hour [Sidenote: it is amazing when one of your closest friends lives directly across the street from you. Trust me on this.]. All the while, we were surrounded by the fragrance of hyacinths on display at the corner deli.

And as I stood there, laughing and talking, watching the throngs of people on 9th Avenue who were celebrating the warm weather, I figured out that I am the luckiest person in the world. It didn't hurt that I was a little tipsy, had squeezed myself into my new jeans and that I'm in the midst of the start of something very good.

TGIT

I am about to head home after a really busy week. During this week, I saw 7 clients, successfully presented and defended my clinical case to my work colleagues, celebrated DM getting a job (yay!!!), attended 3 classes and went on a date. I also somehow managed to get to the gym every day.

I fear the near future when I no longer have Fridays off in which to recover. Perhaps I should consider negotiating for a 4-day work week, if I ever schedule a job interview.

Better

I took my cranky ass home from work early last night, went to yoga, and had some sushi. I feel much better today. Apologies to:

• L & J...who were very sweetly were making plans to come to New York for my graduation (which, btw., falls on a Wednesday at 2:00 pm and is convenient for absolutely no-one) and were told that I could care less about going to the ceremony if this 'fucking degree isn't going to get me a fucking job that will pay my fucking rent'.
  
• The Lawyer...who received several incoherent e-mails which railed against all of the (imagined) injustices in my life.
• My neighbors...who endured a very loud hour of the 'Fuck You' mix on my JBL iPod speaker system.
• The woman...who I glared at on the subway from 110th Streeet to 59th Street because I felt that she was not respectful of my personal space.
• DJ...who also received some very paranoid e-mails while she was in the midst of accepting a job offer and informing her current internship that she was not going to be working there next year.
• Pretty much everyone...at JFK airport.
• A...who indulged my random musings about skipping the next month of school, not completing my degree, and moving to Vermont.

Welcome to the Jungle

My friend DJ is very sweet. She always thinks the best of people, and hates to even watch anything mildly violent. She goes out of her way to be kind and generous. Sometimes I wonder how we became such close friends, given my tendency to be a bitch most of the time.

But it's times like this morning that I don't question it at all.

We had a 6:00 am flight from Burlington back to New York. When we arrived in the JetBlue area, we marched right up to the express check-in, only to be told that we needed to wait in line to use the kiosk. This obviously made no sense as a) there were three available terminals which no-one was using, b) we weren't checking luggage and c) we hadn't had any coffee yet. I rolled my eyes and stepped to the end of the line. DJ, however, wasn't having any of it. She got in line with me, but proceeded to loudly question the directive of the JetBlue employee, and then verbally accosted the startled family of four in front of us. She continued her outrage during security clearance, onto our flight, and possibly through most of the NYC transit system.

And it was awesome.

Escape

I've been in Vermont for the past two days, and my escape from New York couldn't have come at a better time. I feel like I can breathe up here.

Several friends (JP, DM) will be happy to know that I am officially off the wagon. After 67 days of sobriety, I decided to have an overpriced drink at JFK before our Friday night flight up to Burlington. The drinking has continued for much of the weekend.

I'm currently watching DJ, in her plaid pajamas, freaking out because our host, BC, only has decaf coffee. I might freak out too.
We're plotting to get BC to walk down the street to Speeder and Earl's to fetch some for us.

...and he's going.

I can't really say that I want to return to NYC any time soon.

Monk-E-Mail

I just found the best time-waster ever! If you go to the CareerBuilder website, you can send people a 'monk-e-mai'l. You basically type in whatever message you want, and the monkey says it.

Genius!

And no, I'm not providing the link. Lazy today...

Columbiatches

I just picked up my last stipend check from Columbia. While it's always nice to have extra spending money (which will certainly be appreciated this weekend in Vermont) the amount makes me laugh. The check covers the work I do with my internship. I work approximately 300 hours per semester - this semester will probably be closer to 400 hours - and the check is for $200. This means I am making about .66 per hour. Very rewarding.

Also, there is an extremely cranky man working at the Columbia gym desk who all but accused me of trying to steal a towel this morning. Fucking clown.

I Know What It Is When I See It

Irony: I'm reading 'Getting to Yes' for my mediation class, when it seems that I need to learn to say no.

Good Job, Ridiculous

Sometimes I am the stupidest stupid that ever, um, stupided. And that would definitely include last night, and almost definitely this morning.

You'd think I'd have compiled some kind of wisdom (particularly in the realm of relationships) in my 33 years. No, no, and no.

It's going to be a long day. I have a lot on my schedule, and the rest of my time will be spent beating myself up.

Disorientatedness

I woke at 5:49 am this morning. But I wasn't sure if it was really 5:49 or 4:49, because of the time change. I think my phone automatically switches the time, and it said 5:49 on the phone. My alarm clock also read 5:49, but I wasn't sure that it was advanced enough to automatically switch the time for daylight savings.

Instead of telling myself that it was just early, no matter what time it was, and going back to sleep, I started a quest. I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen, to check the microwave clock. 5:49. Huh. I looked outside. There were people walking down the street who didn't look like they were just coming home from the bars. Hm. It was fairly light out, but the city always looks fairly light to me. The sky was a bluish gray color, which could have been happening at either 4:49 or 5:49.

For some reason, I didn't think to turn on the television, which probably could have provided an accurate reading on one of the local channels. Instead, I crawled back into bed, but I couldn't get back to sleep. This is the way it's been lately - I wake without the alarm at a ridiculously early hour and start stressing out about the end of school and the job market.

So now it's 2:13/3:13 in the afternoon and I'm exhausted.

I think I got more sleep when I had bedbugs.

A Request

I need all readers to hold good thoughts for me today, as I just sent off my (hopefully non-sucky) resume and cover letter to two agencies which I am REALLY interested in working with.

It's Confirmed, I'm a Bonehead

Picture this: I'm in my large clinical meeting. There are about 15 therapists and 7 interns/externs gathered around the conference table. We are discussing the bathroom which is located directly outside the counseling center, and how disgustingly unclean this bathroom is. For some reason, I decide to contribute to the conversation. My input?

'I think the students use that bathroom as a poop room.'

Yup. I said poop. At work.

Wednesday

I'm in work clothes, being the professional that I am. Students are shuffling by my office in flip-flops and shorts.

I want to go hang out on the quad and be 18 again.

I Need Mittens

Can someone please tell me why it is always so fucking cold in the school computer lab? My hands are purple right now.

If you can't tell, I'm extremely cranky due to unpleasant dreams/restless sleep last night, resume revisions and a looming job search.

Dankeshein

I just took a walk across the campus where I intern three days per week. There was a group of children from the campus day care center playing on the quad. Reportedly, Sarah Jessica Parker's son attends day care here. As I walked by, I found myself scrutinizing the children, looking for a child who is a cross between Carrie Bradshaw and Ferris Bueller.

And then stopped looking, because that's slightly creepy.

I'm Still Fun...Right?

So, last night, after a very long day at work, and an even longer training session for SAVI after work, I met up with JP for drinks. (Actually, he insists that I heretofore refer to going out for drinks with quotation marks - air quotes if I am speaking about it - because I am no longer drinking alcohol.). Ok, so last night I met up with JP for "drinks".

JP is having romantic issues. JP is always having romantic issues. I am the frequent audience for discussion of his romantic issues. While he usually finds himself in similar situations (drama, emotional unavailability), he always has hope. No matter how many times love has kicked him in the ass, he keeps trying. He is straightforward and honest about what he is feeling even when there are no guarentees that his feelings will be returned. I think that expression is an incredibly strong and beautiful choice.

On the other hand, I hate seeing him so sad and worried and in pain.

I sat and listened and counseled and resisted the urge to slap him upside the head, and then we eventually started laughing at ourselves and each other and the atmosphere got lighter. I believe the turning point was when he openly mocked me for referring to certain relationships as 'organic'. When we stopped giggling about what a pretentious asshole I can be, he said that he misses being silly with me. And this led into a discussion of exactly why I've had a decided lack of silliness lately. And then we both thought about driving down to Philadelphia last night to go out with some of JP's clients (which was dismissed as impractical).

So, me being me, I went home and quite deliberately considered how fun I am. And me being even more me, I'm still thinking about it today (obsessing might be a better word). Am I too serious now? If so, where is this coming from? Is this a permanent condition?

I might have to go out and do something deliberately wacky tonight. But it seems that planning for craziness is just another indicator of the severity of my predicament.

Happy

I feel great today. Maybe it's the first glimpse of Spring weather, that I actually got up his morning and went running, that I've lost four pounds or that my psychotherapy group is starting next week and will have participants.

Or maybe I'm thinking about last night: sushi, walking together without feeling cold, our hands almost touching, warm gooey chocolate cake, talking, talking, talking and a very sweet first kiss by the 86th Street subway stop.

Cancel the great - I feel amazing today.

It's All Too Real

I just bought my graduation gown, cap and tassle - all in a lovely shade of light blue, thank you very much. I also checked the posted list of master's candidates, and I'm on it.

I guess this means I'm really done soon. Which is funny, because I feel like the master of absolutely nothing right now.

Also, since I was forced to buy the graduation regalia, it's mine forever. I think I'm just going to start hanging out in my cap and gown all the time. Tempting, no?

Sobriety

Reason #592 to be happy about my current sobriety: The Walking Wounded

As I was walking up 9th Avenue from Port Authority (returning from a day in The Jerz with The Peanut) on Friday, I ran into many St. Patrick's Day celebrants. Of note was a woman whose face was covered with shamrock stickers, who had multiple green balloons tied to her wrist, and was so intent on devouring a slice of pizza that she walked right into me. I moved out of her way, but not before she roared ' HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY, MORON!' . When I looked back 1/2 a block later, she was vomiting on the sidewalk.

My friend JP wants to have a reverse intervention to encourage me to start drinking again. Based on the above, I'm not sure that's a good idea...

Theater of the Absurd

At dinner last night, The Lawyer and I had a protracted discussion about romantic relationships, which somehow veered into past romantic relationships, then deteriorated into a lot of emphatic gesturing with chopsticks (which was strange since we were at an Italian restaurant). Somehow we got the conversation back on the right course (absurdity) and we developed a list of the ridiculous things that boys/men have said to me.

High School Boyfriend: 'Next year, you'll come back from Syracuse and we'll go to my Junior prom.' (he was two years younger than me).
Big Fat Baby Crier: 'BFBC was the boy that no-one wanted to play with.' (habit of refering to himself in the third person).
Mini: 'ridiculous, you're looking a little thick' (said while we were getting dressed to go out for Valentine's Day).
The Jammer: 'You've got me harder than Chinese algebra.' (no commentary possible here).
The Pledge Master: 'I promised my best friend I'd take her to my formal months ago, but I still want you to go, so I'll get one of my pledges to take you.' (best friend = girlfriend).

I'll be out tonight in Hell's Kitchen, looking to collect more lines...

Hello

I've been doing...absolutely nothing on my Spring Break. It's now 4:42 on Thursday and this is the first I've left my apartment in about 48 hours.

I've been thinking a lot about fate, circumstance, and destiny. How much do we control what happens in our lives, and how much of it is determined for us? At what point do you look at the events in your life and decide that they're part of a bigger lesson, or just throw your hands in the air and decide that it's pointless to look for meaning?

On the not-such-a-big-deal-but-still-weird front:

1) While on my way to the movies, I saw/pretended not to see The Jammer, randomly walking down my street.

2) DM and I met at Harrison's to watch Syracuse beat Georgetown (!) which turned out to be the same place in which R and his brother were meeting with friends before the Allman Brothers concert (btw., I've defined my personal version of hell, which involves an endless Allman Brothers jam session).

3) My friend Megan joined a book club and met one of my sorority sisters whom I have probably not spoken with since graduation.

I don't have answers to what all this means, but I think I should probably continue hiding out in my apartment until it becomes clear.

Edited to add: my horoscope from today...

There are many metaphysical books on the market now that tout the validity
of coincidence, or, more accurately, of the fact that there really is no such
thing as a coincidence, only a series of symbolic events that we're occasionally
smart enough to notice. When you notice just such a pattern occurring now, don't
question your sanity. You're absolutely right. Once you notice, you'll have the
answer to that pressing question you've been asking yourself.

Holy Shit!

(Do you think I can stop using exclamation points in my post titles? Maybe not.)

Syracuse just upset #1 ranked UConn in the Big East tournament!!!! If I didn't think that I'd jinx my team, I'd try to get tickets for tomorrow night's game...

Celebration!

PS: Is it pathetic that I am crying with happiness right now?

Ouch!

Please note, even at my worst bedbug infestation, my back never looked like this.

This is from Yahoo! photos. It is the woman who has filed a $20 million dollar lawsuit against an upstate NY resort for emotional and physical damage.

Story here.

Fuck!

I know that the learning matters more than the grade, but my stress just increased tenfold because I got a B+ on one of my midterms.

Breathe. Breathe.

Stress

I've been so tense lately that I find myself clenching my hands tightly even when I am in non-stressful situations, like when I am going to bed at night. My natural facial expression has become a grimace.

What am I worrying about? Well, there's the whole graduating in 58 days thing; the need to register, study and take the licensing exam; complete my coursework; continue to provide candy and emotional support to my clients at the internship; and craft a kick-ass resume.

There's also all the phone calls I need to return and the thank-you notes I need to send.

It wouldn't be bad if I could also find time to do my laundry, go grocery shopping, organize and clean my apartment, replace my watch battery, obtain DSL service so I can stop intermittently stealing internet, retrieve a few essential items from storage, and cook a batch of chili to freeze for quick/inexpensive lunches.

Oh, and I need to find a job.

Since I've halted my usual coping mechanisms (smoking, drinking) I've found these to be a somewhat acceptable substitute.

Blank

I got nothing but haiku lately...it seems that school midterms and sapping all of my creative energy.

Perhaps next week's Spring Break will restore some balance.

Bus Haiku

tap on the shoulder
guy behind me is chatty
thank god for ipod

Subway Haiku

today on the 1
woman openly picked nose
i tried not to watch

Theme Song!

During J & C's post-game party this past weekend in DC, we spent a considerable amount of time discussing two very important questions. My faithful blog readers might remember that I posted these very same questions a few months ago.

If you ever write an autobiography, what will the title be?

If you had to choose a theme song, which would play every time you made an entrance somewhere, what would it be?

As the party continued, there were variations on the autobiography (all entries must have colons, a la Lifetime Network, making my title "It Seemed To Be A Good Idea At The Time: The ridiculouschick Story") and the theme song (choose between 'Love Will Keep Us Together' by Captain and Tenille or 'Hello' by Lionel Richie).

I am pleased to announce that this morning, while browsing through my iTunes in an attempt to glean inspiration for writing my final project proposal for Social Work with Battered Women (and btw., while I was in the library last night, I proved that I am the World's Biggest Dork when I did a not-entirely-silent fist pump in celebration of finding the perfect journal source for my final project), I finalized my theme song choice.

It is 'Eggman' by the Beastie Boys...if only for the joy of this line: "drive by eggings plaguing L.A." Pure silliness.

Maybe The Bedbugs Have Prevailed

My life has gotten considerably better since I've left the bedbugs behind. Now that I have a stable home environment, I'm able to work on development of self-actualization (read: directing my life toward the fulfillment of cupcake cravings). I'm even getting to the point where I can be grateful for my experience, because its taught me some very valuable lessons (namely, to always check your bed very, very carefully before going to sleep).

Today, it just all sucks.

Because of those motherfucking bedbugs, I no longer have a television. The Amazing Race is on tonight, and I'm going to miss it.

Here I Am

I am tired. I am sick. I am trying to complete a final project. I am in the student lounge in the Social Work building. I am listening to iTunes through my computer. I am watching people make selections from the vending machines. I am looking at vacation destinations for spring break even though I have $63.84 in my bank account. I am wearing a 'Cherish Every Body' bracelet in recognition of Eating Disorders Awareness Week. I am looking at about 4 more hours of work tonight on this project.

I am ready to be done with this.

Today, I...

...semi-seriously plotted with The Lawyer to toilet paper the car and/or personal property of anyone who ever did us wrong.

...managed to successfully curtail my chocolate consumption with the aid of a venti Starbucks and a pack of Orbit bubblemint.

...saw five clients, one of whom insisted that I be 'more critical' of her as a means of personal improvement.

...reconsidered my decision to travel to DC this weekend to see my boys because I have a final project due on Tuesday which means that, while my friends are drinking and eating potato wedges like it's their job, I'll be self-sequestered in some remote corner, typing away furiously, and silently begging them to turn the music down and subsequently berating myself for being such a loser.

...barely restrained myself from punching random pedestrians in the back of the head because I was trying to quickly exit the subway and couldn't they tell that I was trying to get to the library before it closed so I could blog my very important thoughts? Then I laughed because a punch to the back of head is always funny, as long as it's not happening to you.

...began to dread the Greyhound bus trip to DC, which led to thoughts of how nice it would be to be able to take the train instead, but that's too expensive and wow, am I always going to have to worry about money since I'll most likely be making less money with my graduate degree than when I quit my job to go to graduate school and do I really want to be a social worker anyway?

...got my second round of Hep B vaccination, which immobilized my right arm.

And The Name Of This Blog Is...

This weekend at Groom's birthday party, I was discussing my decision to stop drinking for a month. I was also puzzling (out loud) as to why this had not resulted in any noticeable weight loss.

And then I proceeeded to eat a loaf of garlic bread, a ginormous slice of lasagna, various appetizers and a block of cheese the size of my head. And 10 cupcakes.

No seriously, I ate 10 cupcakes.

I need to be stopped.

Graduation Is When, Exactly? Part II

Included in this week's reading:

'Regulation of hypothalmic-pituitary-adrenal activity in response to cognititve therapy in patients with generalized anxiety disorder'

Graduation Is When, Exactly?

One of my favorites, Josh Kelley will be performing tomorrow night at the Bowery Ballroom in New York City.

I will be occupied with a final project meeting for my Advanced Generalist Practice and Programming class.

I Have Prevailed

In the midst of several truly shitty days, a snippet of good news: my previous apartment management company just called and said that they are returning my security deposit in full and waiving the entire past due balance that I owe them.

Ok, crawling back into bed now...

The Day of Love

I can't say it any better than my dear friend, Megan Crane and her list of questions for any potential suitors one might have.

Enjoy!

F*utility

I just spent the morning delivering a program in the student center for my internship. Perhaps more accurately, I should say that I just spent the morning attemtping to lure people to my table with a basket full of chocolate candy, with the possibility that they would also read and absorb the available information about alcohol and relationships helpfully provided by my office.

The theme of the literature was the increased risk for unplanned or unwanted sexual activity if one chooses to drink excessively. Statistics indicate that 90% of all college sexual assaults involve the use of alcohol by either the assailant or the survivor. The booklet which we were distributing today includes these tips for protecting oneself:

• Avoid drinking too much
• Don't go back to someone's room or leave a party with someone you don't know well
• Take a self-defense class

Um, what about the responsibility of the assailant? All of these actions imply that women need to take extraordinary steps to protect themselves by restricting their activity. The implied corollary here is that if you do happen to drink too much/leave a party with someone, and you are assaulted, you are at fault. And apparently, you're even more at fault if you cannot/don't adequately defend yourself. I get so angry. Why this focus on the actions of the survivor? If a woman wants to go out and have a few drinks, she should be able to do so without having to consider herself becoming a target for a sexual assault.

All of this just in time for Valentine's Day. It warms the heart, doesn't it?

If It's Free, It's For Me

My apartment doesn't feel like my apartment tonight:

I'm online via an (illegal) wireless connection.
I am downloading music onto my computer and thus am able to listen to something other than NPR
I am watching WABC on my brother's old television, which he brought into the city on Saturday.
The sounds of 9th Avenue are being muted by the snowstorm.

New Computer

My computer was (finally) delivered today, after much haggling with Fedex. I'm in love. However, I'm finding it harder to steal internet than I thought it would be.

Thus I find myself, once again, at the NYPL using their internet.

Clinical Concerns

I can't wait for my internship to end.

Looking around my clinical meeting today, I took note of the cast of characters seated around the conference table. The psychiatrist who likes to hear himself talk (and to whom everyone listens with eerie devotion). The Psy-D extern who furtively eats cookies from his pocket and makes eye contact with no-one, ever. The Director who leads our meetings with grace but can't communicate one-on-one. The truly funny psychologist who seems to be deflating before my eyes as the year progresses. My supervisor, whose expression is unreadable. It is incredible to me that these people will sit together for three hours every week, yet ignore each other when they pass in the hallways.

And then there's me: the social work intern who hates to participate in the discussion because of the unwelcoming atmosphere, who blushes every time she forces herself to say something, and who would be virtually unrecognizable as the same person whom her friends know to be intelligent, confident, humorous and warm.

May can't come soon enough.

Eeek!

I just bought a computer. And software. And a speaker dock.

I hate spending this much money, but I'm excited...

Weekly Recap

I've become one of those assholes who can't make plans without consulting my calendar. It's true, and I sometimes loathe myself for it. The Jammer should have known he was doomed when he asked me when we could see each other again, and I was too tired/lazy/indifferent to get my ass off the couch to check. Anyway.

I'm quite startled to find that it is February. Where did January go? In order to (partially) unravel the mystery, let's consult last week's schedule. (I'm sure this is going to be fascinating for all of you, reading minutae of my life).

Monday:
Internship 10:00-5:00
Yoga 7:15-8:45
Debriefing, Tasti-Delite with MM 8:45-9:30
Daily check-in/moan about school/affirmations with DJ 9:30-10:10
Break-up, Jammer 10:00-10:04
Debriefing with DJ 10:05-10:30
Attempt at reading 10:31-10:40
Talking to R 10:40-12:00 (much better than reading about PMDD)

Tuesday:
School reading 6:00-7:30
Adult Psychopathology 9:00-10:50
Visit to Teacher's College Bookstore, buy books ($134.98 - ouch), eat free candy
Advanced Generalist Practice and Programming 2:00-3:50 (say that 5 times, fast)
Dinner with M 8:00-10:30
School reading 10:30-12:00

Wednesday:
Internship 10:00-5:30 (including awkward clinical meeting 11:00-2:00)
Social Work with Battered Women 6:00-8:00
Dinner with The Lawyer 9:00-10:30
In bed with Us Weekly 10:40 (an excellent way to counteract that I just ate all of Thailand.

Thursday:
Internship 10:00-5:00 (clients from 12:00-3:00)
Bikini waxing with LK 5:15-5:30
Black History Month Opening Dinner @ Internship 6:00-8:00
Girl's Night 8:00-11:00 (sober, how strange)

Friday:
Therapy 10:45-11:50 (and I'm sure we could spend even longer talking about my craziness)
Yoga 12:30-1:30
Sushi with MM 1:30-2:00
Shopping, shopping, shopping 2:00-5:00 (these, and these, and this)
NYPL, check e-mail, ignore muttering of the person next to me 5:00-5:30
On-call, SAVI program. 6:00-

Saturday:

-8:00 end on-call shift.
Drag myself reluctantly out of bed, laundry 8:30-10:30
Frantically clean apartment 10:45-11:30
Lunch with my brother, SIL and The Peanut 12:00-2:00 ( yum!)
School, fucking around in the computer lab 2:30-6:00 (blogging for my loyal audience)
Movie night with DM 6:30-

You're riveted, aren't you?

Note To Self

Yoga breathing isn't that effective in relieving the discomfort of a bikini wax.

Sushi with brown rice is good.

New York City's tax-free shopping week is dangerous.

60 degree weather in February is alarming.

Filled With Rage

My morning started innocently enough; Special K and soymilk, NPR, another mental reminder to buy coffee filters. The problems start when I have to leave the safe haven of my apartment (which, by the way, I absolutely love. I love the light and the uncluttered space and the dishwasher. Oh, and the lack of bedbugs. Definitely appreciating the absence of the bedbugs.) and deal with the outside world. My friend The Lawyer always says that no good comes of leaving the house, and I think she's right.

The 1 train, which delivers me to my internship each day, stopped at 96th street with an announcement that it would be going express to 145th street, bypassing my stop. I reluctantly vacated my seat and waited on the platform, along with the other grumbling commuters, hoping that the next train arrive soon. I hate the MTA; first the strike and now these interuptions, which are happening with more and more frequency. And there's almost never an explanation, which leads me to believe that the changes are part of some arbitrary plot to ruin my day.

I was late to work, and in response to the gentle inquiry of my co-intern, supplied an answer which was laden with expletives. Luckily I had stopped my rant by the time my supervisor came into the office. Unluckily, she had just picked up a batch of flyers from the campus print shop, and asked me to distribute them. Did I go to graduate school to learn how to hang up flyers? Probably not. Does anyone read these flyers? Probably not. Am I learning anything valuable? Probably not.

When I returned from my one-woman campaign against nicotine, I made the unwise decision to call my former management company. We're still haggling over my December rent and the return of my security deposit. I hate being back here. Even dialing that number inspires dread in the pit of my stomach. I hate them, I hate dealing with them, and I hate that I have to continue to communicate with them in order to get my money back.

Thus, the rage. I need to go home, kick something, and then go to yoga.

The End is Nigh, for my Thighs

There is a Cold Stone Creamery opening very close to my apartment.

M bemoans the tourist influx and gentrification of the neighborhood, I worry about gaining weight.

Goodbye, Jammer

Last night, I broke up with someone. This person had been known, and will heretofore be known as 'The Jammer' due to his former membership in a 'jam band' and his tendency to initiate and participate in irritatingly long 'jam sessions'. [It should be noted that I hate jamming in all its iterations. It should also be noted that during the first occasion we spent time together, he became involved in a jam session, and had to be threatened (not by me) with my departure lest he cease jamming.]

I'm making myself slightly ill by even typing the word 'jam/jamming' so many times.

The conversation was very short, and I'm not even sure it could be quantified as an official break-up due to the fact that we never established a formal relationship. Also, due to the fact that I'm not even sure he knows my last name, what I'm studying in graduate school, or the color of my eyes. Seriously.

I explained that we weren't connecting on the levels that are essential for me in any relationship. Also, for whatever reason, that we weren't able to find anything to talk about (and no, Jammer, your 'horniness' and/or 2:14 am text messages related to said 'horniness' do not count as conversational topics) even though we are both interesting people. That I felt that he is a nice guy, and I appreciated knowing him, but did not want to continue to date him (and once again, no, Jammer, an invitation to your apartment at 2:14 am is not a date).

Nice enough, right? Succinct. No finger-pointing.

In fairness to The Jammer, I believe he was taken aback by my declarations, as I think he felt that our interactions were going along just fine. So, he wasn't prepared. He began by repeating back everything that I said to him. In school, we call this 'reflecting' and it can be a valuable communication tool. However, when there is reflection and no summarizing or responding, it becomes evident that the person is not hearing/listening/processing anything that you are saying. Then he decided to get aggressive.

'Well, I'm not going to browbeat you into staying with me.'
'I figured there was something going on inside your head.'
'So, what do you want me to say?'

Excuse me, asshole. I'm not asking to be persuaded of the worth of your company, nor am I playing a game so that you'll beg me to stay or declare your love for me. Ideally, we'd have a conversation about what I've told you, but I don't require that you agree with me. I was angry, and was about to vent that anger, when I realized that this situation wasn't worth it. I could present a list of things that he did wrong, and maybe we'd debate that for a while. But who cares? When you take away the stupidity (on both our parts) and yes, even the jamming, I meant what I said: there were missing elements which were not being met. I make time for the people in my life who know me and support me, who listen to me without judgement and who are willing to travel with me as I find my way. It's as simple as someone offering to make alcohol-free plans during the next month, or asking me how an assignment turned out.

And it's as complex as realizing that I hate jamming.

Very Drunk

I eat, making poor choices at 4:00 am (cornachos, gravy fries, pizza, chips) and horrible choices when I wake up the following afternoon (McDonald's).

I chain-smoke, later throwing out the remainder of the pack while calculating the cost per cigarette.

I'm not able to listen to friends, or to focus on their conversation, even when they are telling me that they need me.

I sometimes offend. I note the looks, the raised eyebrows, the few seconds of silence before nervous laughter, but I continue anyway.

I'm emotional, an unfillable void. Attempts to fill the emptiness (see: food, cigarettes, more alcohol) fail, not for lack of trying.

I float. Nothing touches me, and I touch nothing.

I laugh, I sing, I dance, I flirt.

On The Wagon

I've decided to quit drinking for a month, starting February 1st. This decision comes not from any calamitous night out (although there have been plenty of those) or embarrassing situation (and those too).

Of course, now that I've made the decision, my e-mail Inbox has been flooded with evites. And I really wonder what that Syracuse v. Georgetown game debauchery/college reunion is going to be like while I am sober. But if I look at every month of my life, there's going to be events and parties and girl's dinners which will cause me to reconsider.

I want to see what my life is like without alcohol. I think I'll feel better physically, and I anticipate feeling less emotional regret. I also wonder that I chose February, the shortest month.

The Persistence of Memory

Two of us, each on a treadmill. We're subtly competing with each other, inching the speed higher and higher. I wouldn't figure out that we were competing, or why, until later. Much later. I can be so stupid sometimes.

__________________


Only slightly out of breath, she asks me how I feel about my fiance joining the fire department. Do I worry about him getting hurt? Not coming home? (He'd already started not coming home, for reasons that I couldn't discuss with myself, or my friends or my family. Certainly not her.)

I answer, casually, something about wanting him to be happy, and fate and love.

We keep running, her perfect blond hair streaming behind her, her strides even and sure.

__________________

Weeks later: we laugh at you.

He's drunk, but calm. This is because he's already yelled, and thrown things, and ripped my engagement ring off my finger. He looks at me, triumphant. He knows how to hurt: we laugh at you.

The answer that I gave without thinking has been dissected and thrown back at me. Too late, I understand why she asked me.

We laugh at you. I guess it was funny.

Concentrate. Concentrate!

• I spent a fair amount of time this morning in my Adult Psychopathology and Pathways to Wellness class strategizing about buying these pants,even though I love the class and am interested in the subject matter.
• I was distracted in yoga on Saturday by the instructor calling certain poses 'extra yummy'. I couldn't figure out if I agreed or disagreed, and whether I was annoyed or amusing by her phrasing. Then I thought that I was thinking too much, and thus affecting the impact of yoga, and resolved to think less, but couldn't, which made me anxious.
  
• Most of my time in the school computer lab is consumed with reading other people's blogs, checking e-mail and surfing various entertainment websites. This is going to bite me in the ass in about 3 weeks when I am hopelessly behind in my readings.
  

In other news, while I was out to dinner on Sunday night, my waiter told me I was 'too thin' and that I looked '18 years old'. I told him he was my new best friend.

In and Out of Love

I feel like my blogging has been atrocious lately - flat and uninspired, containing nothing of real substance. Of course, this statement implies that in the past, my entries have been interesting, thought-provoking and substantive, which I'm not sure is the case either.

I can't really pinpoint the reason for the slump. For months, I was overwhelmed by topics that I could write about, which would spring to mind throughout the day. I had to carry a notebook with me (to capture my brilliance) so I would remember to write about it at a later point in time. I would harrass my friends with ideas, asking for their opinions. I even made frequent references to my blog in conversation (which was probably pretty annoying, reflecting back).

Lately, though, nothing. I have to force myself to think of stuff to write about, if I even remember at all.

I think I've fallen out of love with my blog.

Damn!

Readers, a moment of silence, please.

Over brunch (specifically, my cheddar cheese, mushroom and bacon omlette) on Sunday, JP informed me that my favorite bartender is now living in Ireland permanently, thus greatly reducing my opportunities to a) procure free drinks and b) flirt shamelessly.

Today is the Greatest

Today is my first day back to school in a month and I am estatic to be here (note to self: review that sentence in approximately three weeks, assess mental state, and determine how you feel about school at that point in time). It feels great to use my brain again, to start thinking about the issues that I care about, and to begin my final semester in graduate school. As DJ said today - the sooner we start, we finish (which makes perfect sense, if you think about it).

I've already put together the first 'Girl's Night' of 2006, which will be held in my new apartment on Thursday, with the understanding that we will all be eating on the floor as I still have not procured any furniture other than my bed. I'm not quite sure about the logistics of the night, as there will mostly likely be a surplus of people in my tiny space, but someone is bringing vodka, which (to me, at least) ensures a good time. I'm anticipating 13 social work students (at last count), sitting in a circle on my living room floor, passing the bottle around. And maybe eating a little bit.

In more, um, sobering news...my boys lost last night.

Cold Feet

I'm writing from my desk at my internship. The college is pretty empty today, with students walking by the office at infrequent intervals. They all have the same look of annoyance of their faces, which I'm guessing is due to the fact that they are weighed down with luggage, and that their Winter Break is over. Or maybe they're just scowling when they see me, anticipating another 5 months of alcohol and substance use education to be sprung upon them in the dining hall and student center.

I've told myself that I am here to get a jump on the next semester, to make sure that I am well prepared for Wednesday, but I've mostly been taking advantage of internet with no time limits. The only drawback is that it is just as cold as it usually is in this office, and my feet (despite being cased in two pairs of socks) are twin blocks of ice. My need for warmth is battling my enjoyment of computer use.

Nothing

It is really difficult to write at the New York Public Library, especially the one in my neighborhood, which is always busy. Who knew?

*sigh* I need to buy a new computer. Soon.

I went running yesterday. In Central Park. I thought I was going to die. Most of the time, I fool myself into thinking that I am reasonably athletic. During my lap around the resevoir, there was no way to avoid the truth. I was wheezing and panting and being passed by elderly women. When I finally caught my breath (two hours later), I faced the truth: I am never going to be a runner.

Writer's Block(head)

There's been a lot going on with me lately, in New York City, graduate school and dating, but I don't feel equipped to write about it. I'm in a strange emotional place, which I can't write about until I can gain some clarity on my own.

Just to complicate things further, I have an offer to appear on The Daily Show in a segment they are doing about the bedbug epidemic in New York. I'm considering it, but I have a feeling that this can't end well.

Real Genius

Based upon a visit to the National Museum of American History yesterday, DM and I are developing a jaunty tune entitled 'My Name is Jonas (Salk)' about the inventor of the polio vaccine, which is set to Weezer's 'My Name is Jonas'.

Trust me, it's going to sweep the nation.

Boredom

Discovered during a looooooong car trip to DC.

Hate: Cabin John, Harris Teeter, hoi polloi, Fredrick, ballyhoo, Glebe, long instrumental intros to classic rock songs, hyper disc jockeys, Starbucks that close at 10:00pm, being described as a 'lady', complex maneuvers to unlock gas tanks, do-it-yourself paint jobs on cars, any kind of minivan, the Ford Probe

Love: Bethesda, Abermarle, Havre de Grace, donnybrook, Decoy Museum, nacho cheese combos, hijinks (only when wacky), shennanigans, [whisper] Kelly Clarkson, Marine Animal Rescue Program, Miller High Life, Little Gunpowder Falls, the National Archives