Trivial

I have 2 days left.

Last week, I decided to give myself a specified amount of time to react to my latest disaster in whatever way I thought was most appropriate.

I’ve chosen to go out and drink. Every. Single. Night.

There are alternate coping mechanisms available to me (wallowing, yoga, toilet papering, ice cream) but alcohol has always come through in the past. No need for a change in methodology which might exacerbate the difficulty of the healing process. Plus, I think adhering to a plan in troubled times can give one a sense of stability. Furthermore, sometimes it’s best to delay the inevitable coursework: Review of Relationship – Good Times And Bad; Living With Your Decision, Even Though It Was The Right One; Introspection 101 - until you’re ready for it.

Also, it’s fun to get drunk.

In the spirit of following my treatment plan, I went to Trivia Night at the Crocodile Lounge with H & L, two of the Book Club girls. The questions were surprisingly difficult but we managed to come in 6th place (holla!), despite a truly horrendous showing in the ‘Current Events’ category. (It turns out that we don’t know any Current Events unless they’re in Us Weekly or AM New York.) Oh, and the bar provides a free individual pizza with every drink purchase, so that means dinner *and* drunk snacks are covered. I’m already recruiting new team members for next week’s contest – The Librarian would totally kick ass at this sort of thing (both the trivia and the pizza-eating).

The upshot of all this excitement is that I’m tired today. I’ve been tired for what feels like a long time. Thankfully, life has intervened, and my monthly volunteering shift, which precludes any alcohol consumption, is scheduled on Saturday night. This coincides neatly with the end of this little social experiment that I’ve conducted with myself.

And for the next 2 days, I can continue to ‘cope’ like a rock star.

Addendum: By some strange twist of fate, L saw Anderson Cooper on her way home last night, and H has a remote connection to him through a co-worker. We're totally scheming to ask him to be on our trivia team. Because then, hopefully, current events would be covered.

Rational/Irrational

I was recently explaining my beloved calendar scheduling methods to someone, and he said 'I had no idea you were that organized.' Um, what? Do you know me at all? Next you're going to start using Words I Hate and mocking my string cheese addiction. (Oh, wait, you actually have done both of those things. Nevermind.)

However much I prize neatness, order, and structure...I can still be as disorganized as the next person. Take, for example, this past week when I went shopping, then remembered that I needed to pay rent, but that (as a result of the shopping) I would need to deposit my latest paycheck in order to pay my rent, and then the added layer of being annoyed that I still hadn't set up direct deposit, so that all this maneuvering would require a trip to the bank during business hours. And then there was the utter absurdity of forgetting until Sunday evening that I *still* hadn't deposited my paycheck, and then glancing at my calendar and realizing that November 1st was, in fact, happening on Wednesday.

The result: a meandering trip to the bank on Sunday night (deposit), then another visit this morning (certified check), followed by a stopover at my management company to hand them the rent. No worries, though, because a) it was a beautiful day to be walking around b) my management company had a bowl of Twix at the front desk and c) the accountant at my management company (who caught me pilfering several Twix, but seemed amused by it) is seriously cute.

I'm sure I'll come up with a better system next month. Or not.

Going Backwards

I miss my old job.

Wait, let me amend that statement. I don't miss anything about the actual work that I used to do, but I really miss the people that I worked with.

In my previous life, I was the only female member of a 14-person team of telecommunications engineers. There was a whole cast of characters: the super earnest, super nerdy guys who actually got excited by the prospect of building a SONET network and discussing mathematical theory; the super annoying guys who had no social skills; the super trendy guys who had somehow blundered into the job and had little interest in anything besides going out, maintaining their wardrobe and buying luxury cars; and the super inept managers who tried (and failed) to keep it all under control.

Some of you may remember The Fetus, Carlvette, EnRon, and Dan Halen (yes, his name was actually Dan Halen - go ahead and Jump!, Dan.)

There was never any shortage of ball-busting, name calling, shit stirring, or gossip. There was always someone to go to lunch with. There were always stories, good ones, about people's personal lives. There were daily pranks (vomit cup, anyone?) and weekly happy hours.

At Dream Job, everyone keeps to themselves. I can go for an entire day without actually talking to someone, and if I get a little hyper and (gasp) make an effort to socialize, my efforts are met with a polite smile/nervous laughter/look of confusion.

Maybe I can convince some of the guys to become social workers. Isn't work supposed to be a little fun?

Halloweenie

It is of great disappointment to me (and I’m sure everyone around me) that I did not parade around NYC this weekend in my skimpy Britney Spears costume. Actually, it's just fine with my stomach and my thighs that they were not exposed to the low temperatures or the scrutiny of other celebrants.

Nonetheless, I did manage to celebrate Halloween.

On Friday night, The Librarian and I went to St. John The Divine for a screening of Nosferatu , a silent film made in 1922 which is unintentionally hilarious (we especially liked the montage of Nosferatu wandering around the streets of Bremen with his coffin tucked under his arm). The movie was accompanied by organ music, and then followed by The Parade of Ghouls, which was also unintentionally funny, except for the giant creepy baby costume.

On Saturday night, we celebrated The Lawyer’s birthday at Cubby Hole. That didn’t really have so much to do with Halloween, except for MS and Groom showing up around 2:00 am in their costumes. Oh, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller playing about 10 times during the course of the night. And the strangeness of meeting our friend L’s car mechanic girlfriend.

The only thing left to do is to get my hands on some candy corn and lapse into a sugar coma.

2 Nights

The Same:
Dive75. Many, many vodka and sodas. Connect Four. Laughter. Rain.

The Different:
Two people who I dearly love, who will be part of my life forever.
One person who I will not love.

Alcohol

I've located my new favorite place to drink (well, other than in my apartment, alone, in the dark. Kidding! Totally kidding. Don't schedule the intervention. Yet.)

Moe's Bar is in Fort Greene. You've got to love a place that serves 'Duff' beer and plays weird vampire movies (complete with closed captioning) on a large screen in the back room. Last night, DK and I were sucked in by the (non)plot of the movie and the drink specials, and stayed much later than we had planned.

(Tangent. I think we had a long conversation about college basketball in which he passed the most important test: not being able to devise a scenario in which he would root for Duke to win a basketball game, despite their opponent. Even when given the choice between a team comprised of evil superpowers, like Hitler, Mussolini, and George Bush versus The Blue Devils, he opted for the Axis of Evil. I believe we were also engaged in some drunken "holdin' hands and makin' plans" by the end of the night. It's quite possible that we'll be attending the Final Four, wherever it's being held this year.)

The downside of having a fun night out is clearly evident the following morning when you're running around Brooklyn, preparing for your weekly visit to the school where you facilitate your violence prevention program, and your lack of sleep/hangover takes the peculiar form of hyperactivity and over-friendliness so that you somehow find yourself lugging around 15 Subway sandwiches and 3 bottles of soda but still greeting everyone you pass on the street with a wide smile and a cheery "Good morning!", like Miss Mary Fucking Sunshine.

Nothing Has Changed!

So, last night, on my way out to meet The Librarian, Honeychild and Big Daddy for drinks (drowning my feelings), I stopped by the NYPL to pick up some books I had on reserve. But I forgot my library card.

I knew that there was no way I could return to the library at any other point this week. I also knew that I NEEDED to check out one book in particular, so I would be prepared for the book club which is convening at my house this weekend. (It remains to be seen if I can finish the book in the 72 hours before book club and also manage to do my laundry, clean my apartment, and make lasagna. But I digress.)

So I brought my books up to the desk. Explained that I didn't have my card. And proceeded to rattle off my 14-digit card number from memory.

It's comforting to know that I am still a major geek who can recall things like my library number, on command. Because it's important.

If nothing else, I can hold on to that.

Quiet, Please

A slow strangle with feet on the floor
I've got 14 angels and we're sleeping alone
In the back of a cave, where the rest of us go
To feel normal

I call baby up. Leave me alone.
I'm in pain but I won't let you band-aid the wound
I'm mad at a stage where I can't seem to handle my own

Give me a quiet mind and I...
I love you
You give me a quiet mind and I...
I love you
Until the end

Give me strength to be kind... To combine
All the good things in life that were so hard to find
But I have and I won't let them go like I do with my friends

Still bearing voices... From front... From behind
They're the reasons I choose... When to live... How to die
When to cast... When to reel
When to buy... When to steal
And when to fiend for the friends that taught me
Being inappropriate will

Give me a quiet mind and I...
I love you
You give me a quiet mind and I...
I love you
Till the end

Oh Shit, It's Back To The Quotes

Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.

Rumi

Every Other Day Of The Week Is Fine...

- I believe I have found the solution to my current malaise. And that is to renew my efforts to bring Social Work! The Musical to Broadway. DJ is on board with the plan, and we recruited an aspiring filmmaker to document our progress. It’s going to sweep the nation. Trust me.

- I am officially official at Dream Job as I received my salary offer letter in the mail on Friday *and* my timecard this morning. The timecard would be a lot more fun if it was made out of stone and was punched by a prehistoric bird, like on the Flintstones.

- I really should stick to my standby (vodka) instead of branching out (beer) when I drink. Beer just makes me full. And silly. I need to be very, very serious, especially at parties and social occasions.

- I sat in church yesterday (!), watching The Peanut in her performance debut as a monkey on Noah’s Ark. And then later gave the rainbow-covered program to The Lawyer and told her that Jesus loves ‘her people’.

- Despite my usual Monday tiredness, I am considering meeting up with JP tonight to watch the Giants game. Even though I don’t care that much about the NFL, and even less about the Giants.

- I am frequently very funny at work, which makes my co-workers look at me like I’m crazy. Because I guess trauma counselors aren’t supposed to have a sense of humor. I think its fine as long as I’m not making jokes about clients/patients. And I also think its okay that I just declared that I am funny, despite my typical assertion that if you have to make statements about yourself, they’re not true.

- It would be a lot easier to learn Spanish if I had my Ultimate Spanish! textbook. And if my teacher was less random. And if I remembered to eat something before I went to class.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Dear Everyone I Spoke To Last Weekend:

Remember how my boiler was broken? And how I bitched endlessly about how cold it was in my apartment? And then how I talked about sleeping in sweatpants and a fleece jacket and still freezing, and about how I was sure I was going to get sick from the lack of heat? And then the whining about how my muscles hurt from shivering and curling up in a ball under my covers for most of the weekend? And then remember the threats I made about calling 311 to report my landlord? And my announcement that I hated my building and that I needed to move again?

Yeah, at any point you could have interupted that tirade and reminded me of the alternative - blazing heat, a radiator that won't turn off, and the difficult choice between sweltering/dehydrating OR opening my windows and subjecting myself to the noise and dirt of 9th Avenue.

Or you could have just told me to shut the fuck up.

ridiculouschick

Brighter Than Sunshine

This is the song that is playing in my head today. I'm smiling while thinking about the impatience - but persistence - in getting things right (thank you, Reporter, for the phrasing).

I Am A Little Explosion

There are several reasons to be happy today, if I choose to do so:

- Sushi, Sapporo and Sleepover with DJ
- My walk through Brooklyn this morning in unexpectedly warm Fall weather
- Fresh fruit and coffee
- MC’s latest brilliant novel in my Inbox
- www.pandora.com
- The Lawyer is finally home from California, and has called me the 'bomb diggity' and a 'Mental Health Professional', both of which are hilarious

Thought of the Day

'miracles will happen as we speak.
but we're never gonna survive unless
we get a little crazy.
no we're never gonna survive unless
we are a little
crazy.'

-Seal

Fave

Kate: I'm sure I don't do anything you would find exciting. I don't open beer bottles with my toes, I don't sit around and count what's left of my teeth, hey, I don't even enjoy a good tractor pull.

Doug: Life of the party, huh? Place must be crawling with guys.

Classic

'We have so much in common, we both love soup and snow peas, we love the outdoors, and talking and not talking. We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about.'

Best In Show

I'll Be Right With You...

I'm negotiating some big changes in my life right now. It's chaotic and messy and strange, but I need to believe that something quite beautiful will emerge.

In the meantime, I give you...quotes! Or, you can wade around in my archives.

"It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear . . . . It's like being between trapezes. It's Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There's nothing to hold on to."

Anonymous

Major Plans

It's been a long week.

The only thing I want to do tonight is climb into bed at a ludicrously early hour and watch an appropriately absurd movie. Luckily, my new comforter arrived last night.

SGH?

Oh my my.

Whilst running between the Emergency Department and the Psychiatric Inpatient Unit, I believe I encountered my hospital's very own Preston Burke.

This ought to make work more interesting.

Well, this *and* the giant bowl of Halloween candy that magically appeared in the hallway outside of my office this morning. (And I didn't even need to wear my Britney costume yet!)

Mindfulness

I am strong.

When the dark clouds come into my life, I have the power to push them away.

Or to simply sit and wait for them to pass.

No Shame

Music: No Reply At All - Genesis

Is it my imagination, or do men simply take up more space on the mass transit system?

Almost every male on the subway sits with his legs spread wiiiiide open, totally disregarding any passengers seated next to them (which is usually me, squeezed into a tiny space and trying not to inadvertently touch their leg, arm, or any other part of their body.)

Men frequently and blatantly release huge globs of phlegm and spit on the platform and track. (Why do men need to spit so much?)

Then there is the almost daily leering and suggestive commenting. Sometimes, if it's an extra special day, and the car is crowded, you might get an ass grab.

And then yesterday, the man standing next to me at the Jay Street Station was digging in his nose and then picking whatever he had extracted out from under his fingernails and flinging it on the ground. When we boarded the train, he continued his excavation and commenced wiping his fingers on his seat. And then looked at me and winked.

I think the MTA needs to create a female-only subway system.

Love, Love, Love

I was woken up early this morning for the best of reasons.

At 5:57 am, L & D's daughter, Audrey Vanette, was born. Apparently, she looks a lot like her big brother E and has 'an adorably cute' nose. I can't wait to meet her.

I obviously need to begin plotting reasons and methods to skip work one day this week so I can go to Boston.

For now, I'm off to The Jerz to see The Peanut (my first niece) and hear all about her monumental efforts toward using 'the big girl potty'. This will be a continuation of the conversation we started last night while I was chasing away my hangover with wine and tapas. It's really fun to note the looks that you collect when you are talking loudly about 'poopie' and 'princess underwear' on your cell phone in a crowded downtown bar on a Saturday night.

Declarations

A few weeks ago, I was proudly telling a friend that it had been ages since I had thrown up from drinking.

You know what this means, right?

Yeah, I pulled the chord last night. Big time. The beginning of my night was lovely - drinks and dinner, followed by more drinks, and some cigarettes...and then I remember turning a corner and suddenly being way too drunk, which was exacerbated by a lurching cab ride home.

Luckily, The ARH was asleep while I was getting sick - there really is no more vulnerable a position than being hunched over your toilet, naked and dizzy. And it is perhaps even more fortunate that I wasn't drunk enough to make *other* foolish declarations. Those will keep, I'm sure, for another time.

One Year

There is a resurgence of stories about bedbugs in the media lately. Not that I’m actually reading a newspaper or watching the news – but I keep reasonably informed through an online discussion group. In the past couple of weeks, there have been articles in the NY Times, The Daily News, USA Today, The Post, and on NPR…

The media attention, interestingly enough, is coinciding with my lease renewal. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I moved into that quiet, empty apartment – leaving behind the chaos and sleeplessness of my old living space. That move seemed like such an easy choice at the time.

This morning, I read through the paperwork and reviewed my options. Do I really want to commit myself to staying for another year? When I walk to work in the morning, I feel the pull of a calmer existence in Brooklyn and last month’s trip to San Francisco kicked off thoughts of a life there. Signing the lease means saying yes to honking horns and sirens, to noisy people leaving the bars at 4:00 am, mice and bursting water pipes and strange neighbors. But it also means continuing to be surrounded by friends, happily losing myself in the activity and the loudness, all the familiar places and the new ones…to exploring the deeper levels of connection and trust that I am feeling right now.

Saying yes means opening to the possibilities. I’m here.

Grrrr

It is amazing how a malfunctioning photocopy machine can make you feel completely useless at the end of a 10 hour work day.

It is slightly gratifying to realize that the strange looks that you received on your way home were (probably) due to the copier ink smudged all over your face.

It is disconcerting to have a house full of food, and not want to eat any of it, including the chocolate M&M's in your refrigerator, and the ice cream in your freezer.

It is strange to know that you will be in bed ridiculously early for the second night in a row.

Beauty

Yesterday morning, I was just about as cheerful as you'd imagine I'd be, dragging myself from my warm bed and venturing out into a cold and rainy morning to go to work. On about an hour of sleep, no less.

However, about 2 hours into our day-long training session for new volunteers for my program, we hosted a survivor panel. 4 women placed themselves at the front of the room and began to speak. Everything stilled. They spoke clearly, eloquently, honestly of the horrible violence they had survived. And as they shared their experiences, there was anger and sadness and pain. When they ended, there was a hushed pause, and then a torrent of applause. All of the women in the room were out of their seats, talking and laughing with each other, crying together, hugging each other.

I was reminded yet again why I do this work. I am a witness. It is easy to get discouraged by the number of women that have a story, in both my personal and professional life. At times, I feel like we're fighting a war that we have no hope of winning.

The simple act of telling and listening restores some balance.

New Roommate

(Doesn't roommate always look like it's spelled wrong?)

Discovery
One morning, while making coffee, I found some suspicious looking, um, brown objects in my cabinet. Internet investigation leads me to believe that these, um, brown objects are the by-products of a mouse.

Disclosure
ridiculouschick: 'I have a mouse in my house.'
MC: 'Did you really just say that? What are you, Doctor Seuss?'

ridiculouschick: 'I have a mouse in my house.'
DJ: 'You certainly do like to live with the critters, don't you?'

ridiculouschick: 'I have a mouse in my house.'
The Lawyer: 'I'm not coming over any more.'

Disgusting
Further searching leads to more, um, brown objects, a frantic 3 hour cleaning spree, and removal of all food from the cabinets into the (hopefully) impenetrable refrigerator.

Death
Upon LK's advice (and contemplation of MS and Groom's own mouse extermination saga), I purchase the 'humane' electronic mousetrap, which is billed as 'quick kill'! and has a 'flashing light [which] indicates kill'! I spend about half an hour struggling with the batteries, and another half an hour trying to figure out what the 'On' position is.

I think it's working.

I just don't want to hear it working. And I'm not relishing the thought of emptying it either.

Borrowing Again

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

Rumi

Nothing Original Today, Lyrics, Tired

'drink up, baby down
mmm, are you in or are you out
leave your things behind
'cause it's all going off without you
excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy
these mishaps
you bubble wrap
when you've no idea what you're like

so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so let go, just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

it gains the more it gives
and then it rises with the fall
so hand me that remote
can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow

such boundless pleasure
we've no time for later now
you can't await your own arrival
you've 20 seconds to comply

so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so let go, just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown'

frou frou

I'm A Slave 4 U

Last night, my Book Club voted to decide which version we would each play in 'Britney Spears: A Retrospective', opening October 31st, 2006.

• Since R is pregnant, she got 'Matt Lauer Interview/Clumped Mascara/Slumped Shoulder/We're Country'.


• L is tall and has long blonde hair, and thus can pull off 'Oops I Did It Again/Red Vinyl'.


• H is perpetually drunk, and will represent 'Las Vegas Wedding/Trucker Hat/Smudged Eyeliner'.


• The undisputed nicest member of our group, L, is most obviously 'One More Time/Catholic Schoolgirl/Pigtails'.


• S, with her dark hair and amplified cleavage, gets to 'Almost Drop Sean Preston on the Street/Burst Into Tears'.

And this is how it shook out for me:



Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a 35-day appointment with the Stairmaster.

Sigh

You Tube is the best invention. Ever. Because it allows you to obsess over just how hot Chris Cornell is in every single video he ever made.

Alternately, you can do 'research' for your Halloween costume by downloading Britney Spears. Now I just need to figure out where to get a red vinyl catsuit, and decide exactly where/how I could wear such a thing in public.

Blurg

Why do I always forget that red wine should more accurately be named 'headache in a bottle'?

Nonetheless, if you have an opportunity to dance with your girls AND a 50-ish crazy Italian man named Fabio (yes, Fabio), you take it.

Even if it means that you will have an agonizingly long Monday...

Empanada Mama

I think I have a new girlfriend.

The Lawyer and I had lunch at Empanada Mama today. She was telling me about her Friday night activities, which included an art exhibit and then dinner with the son of a family friend. The Lawyer said that at certain points in the evening, she felt as though she was on a date. She had wanted to tell him beforehand that she was gay, but never really found that appropriate time.

My suggestion was to lead off with the information. (Walk up to him, extend hand, and say 'Hi, I'm [The Lawyer] and I am a gay American.')

While I was trying out various iterations of 'Hello, I'm gay...', our waitress approached our table to take our order. She heard the sentence, paused, smiled widely at me, glanced at my chest, then looked into my eyes and asked what I wanted. And then she was...very attentive...throughout our meal.

Apparently, in certain establishments in Hell's Kitchen, I'm also a gay American.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Food

I have weird food stuff going on.

And no, I'm not talking about my well documented/widely discussed issues with mixing fruit and meat (D might recall my horror when he poured orange juice over a chicken in preparation for roasting, or LK may remember when I proclaimed certain meatballs on my plate at IKEA 'irretrievably ruined' because they had touched the lingonberry sauce).

And I'm also not referencing my tendency to document and monitor what I eat, particularly my protein/fat intake. I realized the other day that I've been dieting, in some form or another, since I was 18.

No, lately, I have absolutely zero appetite. Nothing sounds appealing to me, and the thought of eating an entire substantive meal makes me feel nauseous. So, I'm just really not eating all that much. Which is really strange when you consider that I've also quit smoking recently. And that I love food.

I'm going out to 'dinner' with JP tonight. Perhaps he'll allow me to count vodka and cranberry juice as a meal...

The Report

Today, I, the ridiculous one:

- reconsidered my decision to wear a pencil skirt and high heels when simultaneous emergencies at Dream Job had me running all over the place for about 4 hours. Further deliberation was warranted when the side slit in my skirt tore a bit, exposing more leg than I ever intended at work.

- ate only a protein bar and a cup of oatmeal. All day.

- wrote the 8th draft of my grant proposal and submitted it to my supervisor, praying for approval.

- received an e-mail from The ARH that made me happy and sad at the same time. Sending a reply (thus re-opening the door) scared the crap out of me. But my life needs to be about jumping in rather than shutting down.

- attended an interview so I can begin taking Spanish classes. The teacher began by emitting a rapid stream of Spanish and then looking at me. I told him that I didn't understand, which is why I need to take the class. He ignored this statement, pointed to my coffee and said something else. In Spanish. Using my extremely limited language capabilities, I nodded and said 'cafe mi gusto'. That means I like coffee, right?

- with the help of a friend, shifted my ideas of what I need to do about my family situation, and basically told them that I don't want their half-assed, belated birthday celebration. And I only feel a little anxious about this decision.

Fighting

Lately, I feel like I'm fighting to protect myself.

Within every conflict, there is a choice available to me. I'd be happy to sit back and let the right way happen along, but situations don't always clear on their own. Sometimes, like, say, when you have a bug infestation, you have to take action. And that action might include being featured in a New York Times article.

Or, maybe, if you haven't been paid by your new job, you might decide to dedicate a day to camping out in the HR reception area until they're sick enough of looking at you that they do the right thing.

But when it comes to personal issues (family, relationships) it's not quite as clear. I'm battling for my own happiness, my sanity, and my self. I'm exhausted by the struggle.

4 years ago, I left someone and something horrible, and I chose to survive. And, shortly after that, chose not just to survive, but to fight. I move back and forth every day with the meaning of this. Sometimes I am strong, and sometimes I feel weak.

But it's always me.

They Call It The Red Eye Because...

I'm back in New York. In my office. I feel like I left a million years ago.

And I'm so tired that it is perhaps quite possible that I did.

The Black Eyed Peas were on my flight home this morning. I texted the news to MC, who suggested that I start singing. I refrained. That's about exciting as this story gets.

Wait, why am I in front of a computer? Oh, that's right. It's time to work.

PS: Today, I have an irrational hatred towards the NYC transit system, MS's wheeled suitcase, and my outfit.

I Left My (Broken) Heart in San Francisco

"My only goal is just to be." - Rent

Ok, well, I'm still here, so I haven't really 'left' it yet, and I'm also not sure my heart is broken, maybe only cracked.

But I need to learn not to underestimate how much less wounded I can feel when I focus on myself. There is something incredibly empowering around flying across the country, spending the weekend exploring a beautiful city (including a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, which I just got back from), and just letting each day unfold without any expectations about what it will bring.

Last night, I attended the wedding of two close friends. I wasn't sure how I would feel about celebrating love (and wow, how selfish to let my stuff possibly overshadow this event) but it was ok. It was more than ok. I walked into the wedding, single and strong, with a smile on my face, knowing in my soul that better days will come.

And then, with the help of The Fisherman, a dive bar jukebox, and Journey...I rocked the post-reception happenings.

Can't Sleep

Since Wednesday, I’ve been holding myself together. I'm really good at it. I’ve cried, but only at home by myself, or behind the closed door of my office. When I speak to friends, I tell them that I am ok, and then I find ways to make the current situation entertaining.

What I want to do is have a temper tantrum.

I want to throw myself on the ground and scream and kick and wail. I want to be a spectacle. Because you don’t get to hold my hand and look into my eyes and say the things that you've said, then abruptly pull away less than a week later. It’s not fair that you’re starting a new relationship while I’m left holding the terminated possibility of ours. And it’s not okay with me that I can’t say or do anything that will change the circumstances.

I really liked you. I now hate that I really liked you.

Why didn’t I know that the last date, the one where we went a little deeper, the one that convinced me that there was something worth holding onto, was indeed, our last date? I think you knew, and I wonder why you couldn't say goodbye in person.

Perhaps the biggest injustice of all is that I am expected to move through this world as an adult; to accept, grow, and learn from this little episode. It would be so much easier if I could just have a fit and then go on with my day...

Woo Hoo!

There's no better feeling than navigating your way through San Francisco on a beautiful, clear day while the satellite radio in your rental car is blasting the 80's channel.

Oh no, wait. There is. When the rental car happens to be an upgrade from your reserved compact to an mid-size electric blue Chevy Impala, it's fucking great.

That's right, bitches. I said mid-size electric blue Chevy Impala. Word is born.

And Broke

The administrative assistant just came into my office to inform me that my employee number hasn't made it into the payroll system yet. Which means that yesterday was payday for everyone else but me.

Guess who I need to deal with in order to have this rectified? My Favorite Inept Employee in HR.

It's unfortunate that you can't simply will your life to halt while you're dealing with personal stuff. On that note, it would probably be wise to reserve a rental car and find directions to B's house, as I am flying out to San Francisco tomorrow morning.

Taking A Break

It's raining and I feel shitty and I can't seem to write about what's going on without sounding horribly pathetic.

So I won't.

Questions, Questions

All asked today...

1. How was your birthday party?

It was fun. It contained the usual amount of ridiculousness that comprises most of my events. We drank. We were silly. Pictures were taken. Details would probably be really boring if you weren’t there.

2. Did you meet anyone on match.com this summer?

Um, yes. But I can’t really comment because I’m afraid of The Jinx.

3. What is The Jinx?

Well, basically, as soon as I tell anyone about the person I am dating, the relationship ends. No kidding.

4. So, are you dating someone?

Absolutely not.

5. How’s your new job?

It’s a Dream Job and I love it. But it’s a new job, so I have my daily panic about how I know nothing about what I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m really hurting people more than I’m helping them, and that I should probably just move to Montana and raise sheep.

6. You’re a social worker. Do you have any good stories?

Well, define good. There's nothing particularly funny about my job, and if I tell you anything 'good', it will probably bring the mood down. Way down. I think I'll save the entertainment for my therapist.

7. You’re posting a lot lately. Don’t you have anything better to do?

This is a strange period of my life, and my recall isn’t great. So I NEED to post. And no, I don’t have anything better to do.

The 'Fridge Wins!

September 11th

Although we have been made to believe that if we let go we will end up with nothing, life itself reveals again and again the opposite: that letting go is the path to real freedom.

Just as when the waves lash at the shore, the rocks suffer no damage but are sculpted and eroded into beautiful shapes, so our character can be molded and our rough edges worn smooth by changes. Through weathering changes we can learn how to develop a gentle but unshakable composure. Our confidence in ourselves grows, and becomes so much greater that goodness and compassion begin naturally to radiate out from us and bring joy to others. That goodness is what survives death, a fundamental goodness that is in every one of us. The whole of our life is a teaching of how to uncover that strong goodness, and a training towards realizing it.

Sogyal Rinpoche

Thematic

1. This morning at brunch, I amused myself by thinking up mottos for Honeychild and Big Daddy. And after dashing off many similar sounding platitudes, Big Daddy told me that I was reminding him of a movie called 'Being There' in which the main character's statements are mistaken for insightfulness. When pressed, BD said that he felt this main character might have been 'mildly retarded'.

2. While on vacation, my niece kept describing me as 'simple'.

3. I spent much of my time at last night's party spinning in circles and attempting to deconstruct D's birthday cake.

1+2+3 = I'm not as smart as I think I am.

Ridin' Spinners

I'm seriously considering posting a video of me and The Fisherman playing the 'chair game' tonight at D's 40th birthday party, because it's pretty fuckin' funny. Especially the part where I collide with the refridgerator and can't stop laughing.

But then I'll no longer be anonymous, and that might be a little weird.

Decisions, decisions.

Correction

I didn't turn 34 yesterday. I think I turned 12, because I am currently giggling about The Lawyer's 'Penal Law' book, which she has just offered to give me. If that happens, I'll never leave the house...

Birthday!

There's not much to say about my birthday so far, as I am at work, and slammed like any other day.

But I *can* say that I turned 34 at 12:42 am on the downtown 1 train, somewhere between 86th and 79th Streets. And that I can't really think of a more appropriate or celebratory place to be for that moment...

Leftovers

- For no discovered reason, my niece is currently telling everyone that she meets that her name is Colleen. This is not her name. I'm glad she's growing up a little weird. Just like her aunt.

- According to the employee handbook, nose rings are 'not allowed to be worn' while on duty at my job. The ARH helpfully provided legal-sounding rebuttals against removing mine. I think I'll keep him around for a while.

- My family is having some scheduling issues around celebrating my birthday this weekend. I can only apologize that the celebration of my birth will not come at a more convenient time for them. And be thankful that I've assembled a party for myself on Thursday night.

- I just woke from a 2 hour nap. The likelihood that I will be able to go back to sleep tonight without the aid of Tylenol PM is slim.

- I really need to get my iPod fixed. My 40 minute ride into the city on the C this evening was dominated by the loud voice of a large woman awkwardly trying to flirt with her coworker (?) by discussing the meeting they had just attended.

- MC sent me a message this morning to let me know that the lamest bar near our hometown has a MySpace page. I need to 'friend' them immediately.

Yes!

This morning, as I sat and waited for my clothes to dry, I was helpfully reminded, via the laundromat's blaring radio, to 'hold the line...love isn't always on time.'

Thank you, Toto. Thank you. Truer words have never been spoken. And it's not often that I get the chance to rock out while I do laundry.

Expectations

As it happens in almost every relationship, my brother and I have our unwritten roles within our family. I hesitate to simplify this as a binary good child/bad child scenario because it's a bit more complicated than that. However, on the whole, our family story will prove that J has always been calmer, more patient, sunnier, happier (my parents still tell the story of our nightmarish trip up the California coastline when I was 8 months old, juxtaposed with J's contented gurgling throughout his infancy and toddler years).

Even as adults, the roles continue. J is happily married, estsblished in his career, owns his home, just started an MBA program, and has a child. I have the weight of rebellious teenage years, a disaster during my first year of college, a broken engagement, and a chaotic life in the city. He conforms, accepts, and carries on; I challenge, rage and push against the familiar. There is a great deal in freedom and constriction in the characters we have chosen/been assigned.

Knowing this history, it always surprises me when one of us steps out of our disposition. On our recent family vacation, J and i were standing in the ocean, talking. It was a clear, beautiful day. My SIL and The Peanut were happily playing on the beach nearby. All of a sudden, J scanned the horizon, then turned to me, and in all seriousness, asked what I would do if there was a tsunami. [Please note, we were not in a foreign locale where this was a possibility. We were in freakin' Delaware, probably the last place on earth in which a tsunami would occur.] He continued, detailing his plan if this should happen: that he would scoop up The Peanut and his wife and run for high land, or perhaps take shelter behind a tree.

And while he was talking, I remembered another sort of history - that my family used to sarcastically call J 'Little Darling' because he was always predicting doom and gloom. Drive over a bridge and he'd ponder its collapse. Take an elevator and he'd discuss the fragility of the cable wires holding the car. Go through a tunnel and, well, you know. He's always maintained that he would lose all of his hair by age 18 (something about male pattern baldness on my Mom's side of the family) and die of a heart attack at age 43 (the same age my Dad was when he almost died of heart disease). J honestly half-expects these tragedies to happen. It's the part of his personality that doesn't fit in with our ideas of him.

Back on the beach, J stopped talking, and looked at me expectantly. I laughed and dove into an oncoming wave.

What?

At the close of my first week of employment, I am exhausted. I haven't slept well at all this week, and it turns out that the afternoon naps that I enjoyed all summer are not a possibility at my new job.

Somewhat crazily, I've agreed to attend the Yankees game tonight with JP - the tickets and 'many, many beers' serving as my early birthday present. I guess I can also consider the predicted torrential rainshowers a gift of sorts...or perhaps an ode to my foolishness.

All I know is that I am going to sleep all day tomorrow.

Older Than Me

I was going to write a post about my impending birthday (next week) and whinge on about being 34 and how the idea of that just seems to suck lately, and how I am feeling old but young...

...but then I spent the afternoon in the ED with a survivor whose 20th birthday was yesterday...

...and it suddenly seems more important to get out of the house and go running than to dwell in my self-absorption.

Book Club

I only had time yesterday to run to Barnes and Noble after work, grab a copy of 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter', and then skim the first chapter whilst in the B&N cafe, devouring a rice krispie treat. (I have no excuse or discernible reason for not having purchased/read the book during my vacation, or at any point during the previous month while I was not working.)

Due to my lack of preparation, it was only fair that all of the major plot points of the book were revealed during the discussion, including this gem: 'I just can't figure out why [the author] kills off [the main character] at the end of the book.'

Ahem.

Quite Contrary

- After a week of acting like a surly teenager, I am now sitting on my couch, missing my family and wishing I was with them again.

- I went to work today, and it was amazing. I never thought I'd have a job like this.

- Due to a lack of caffeine in my household, I was forced to visit Starbucks this morning, where I couldn't seem to just get coffee, but went for the Grande Mocha and Oatmeal Banana Bread. Damn you, Starbucks!

- I didn't have the heart to tell 'Blanco' that his monumental efforts at styling and shaping my new haircut would not be appreciated by the masses tonight, unless you count the people I walked past on the way to my apartment.

- I've happily continued my trend of eating hummus and Wheat Thins for dinner.

- My SIL was right about that dress at Banana Republic being useful someday when I had nothing to wear to work. And when I say 'someday', I mean 'Monday, August 28th'.

- Beach attire and business casual are very far away from each other on the clothing style continuum.

- I have not heard from the ARH and I have a weird feeling that I am never going to see him again.

I Just Walked In The Door...

...and I think I start my new job tomorrow. That is, I've been cleared by Human Resources to start my new job tomorrow, but have not received 1) an official letter which offers me the job/clarifies my salary/initiates my union membership OR 2) a return call from my supervisor indicating my start time.

I am in desperate need of a haircut and a pedicure. This has very little to do with my job, but I feel it ties in with 'general preparedness' so I'm mentioning it here.

Along the same tangent, I don't think I have any coffee in the house and I'm not sure what I'm going to wear to work.

Also...

I'm starting a new list called 'Unsolicited Opinions of Ridiculouschick's Character Traits, Offered By Someone She Is On A Date With.'

So far we have:

Reserved (Old Man)
Obstinate (Musician)
Not Italian, Irish (Leprechan)
Kooky (Just A Friend)

Gotcha

Ok, I lied.

I'm not on the beach.

Today is L's surprise baby shower. This blog was used as a part of the scheming (non-evil variety) to keep my trip to Boston a secret. However, as of last night, approximately 7:03 pm, the gig is up. Were you surprised, L? Did it work? Because I'd hate to think I manipulated my readers for no good reason...

[The Reporter just pointed out that I didn't completely lie, as I am in a place that starts with 'B'. Good one. ]

We'll be celebrating today with most of the girls (sadly, The Librarian and Nashville are missing) and lots of food. Because what you really want to do is bulk up before spending a week on the beach.

Time on the beach, for the record, will begin with a long-ass car trip tomorrow morning at 6:00 am.

And I swear I'm not lying about that one. Honestly.

ridiculouschick, out!

Ok people, I'm outta here.

I'm off to sit on the beach for a while, and to not think any more deeply than to worry about my tan lines.

My heart has experienced some contusions this week, but that always heals...and I'm not sure it's my heart we were dealing with anyway.

Holla!

I'm beautiful like me.

The Good News

I do not have tuberculosis.

My past employers are able to write coherent references (which was in some doubt with JC at TelecomCompany).

With a few minor changes, I can accept the proposal of the random stranger I met on the C train today ('If you get rid of tattoo and nose jewelry, you can be my wife.')

I will be on the beach in less than 48 hours.

Yesterday...

...All my troubles seemed so far...no. No. Fuck that. All my troubles were pretty much right there, staring me in the face. Mocking me. All. Day.

Luckily, my quasi-trauma was mitigated by a lovely afternoon yoga class with Cliff, who is fast becoming my favorite instructor. And then a really funny conversation about toilet-papering with The Lawyer, and high school reminiscing/internet smackdowns/boy advice with MC. And following that, a dive-bar night out in Soho (in which 3 separate people asked me directions - sadly, I was of no help, but hey, psyched to be asked) with The Leprechan.

And I didn't even stop to get pizza on the way home. Imagine that. My thighs are thanking me even as I type.

Doing The Limbo

I have a confession to make: I'm no good at waiting. At heart, I'm a planner. I live by my calendar, my appointments, and my schedule. As much as I'd like to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl (what does that mean anyway? pants?), I can't let go of my need to organize and obsess.

Lately, my life has been all about passing time. Everything feels like it is on delay. I can't start my job until I pass the physical exam, the tuberculosis test, and the toxicology screening. I can't go on vacation next week until I am sure that the above requirements have been met.

I stay home, and I suddenly want to be outside. I go out, and then all I want is to be back in my apartment, buried under my covers. I call friends to talk, but just want to be left alone.

This is a strange and beautiful time.

Little Ms. Crankypants

No sleep. Employee health worker at Dream Job attempting 5 tiimes, in 5 different spots, to find a vein from which to draw blood. PPD in my arm that is slightly oozing. A 2 mile walk through Manhattanville (the A train does not stop at 96th street - go figure). Immobilized right arm from the last of my Hepatitis B vaccinations. Hungry. Over-zealous GNC employee trying to sell me vitamins, chewable acidophilus, herbal supplements, and protein drinks. Long line at the grocery store. Apartment hallway smelling suspiciously like vomit.

History and Mystery

At what point do you talk about your past with the person you are dating? When can you be sure that your ugliness/their pity won't permanently frame the way that this person sees you? Do you really want to look into someone's eyes and know that they're seeing the person that was? How much of that girl is hidden until you tell them? When do you stop erecting the walls and dancing out of reach? Can you trust them? Can you trust yourself?

In any event, it's too complicated to figure out tonight...

Continued...

Excessive drinking is also an excellent way to dumb yourself down.

The Exception to the Rule

I'm generally concerned with trying to turn my brain off. I tend to over-analyze, over-think, and complicate even the most simple situations. Sleep used to be an excellent way to achieve thought-free bliss, but that's not happening much lately. Perhaps a lobotomy is included with the health benefits at my new job? At some point in my life, I'd just like to be dumb and happy.

This morning, though, I've realized that there is an area where my stupidity can excel. Dating turns me into an absolute fool. Correction. Dating someone that I really like turns me into an absolute fool. I become so idiotic that I could probably be called Fool and The Gang, because my lack of common sense is Just. That. Large.

Case in point: I went out with Anti-Robin Hood last night and couldn't stop kissing him. In public. And we were sober. Given that I usually mock overly-affectionate couples, this is quite alarming. I also couldn't seem to complete an intelligent sentence or stop looking at him and grinning. Everything about last night is kinda hazy, except for when I finally reigned myself in, had a semi-graceful panic, and abruptly left his apartment around 1:00 am.

Oh Snap!

Ok, I kinda love The Lawyer. I mean, she's one of my closest friends, so of course I love her, but it's stuff like this that makes me really, really love her. Maybe even want to be her for a little while.

The Setup: A friend of a friend, G, was seriously flirting with The Lawyer while at a party this past Saturday. Things have been, um, boiling between then for a while now, so The Lawyer asked G to meet up for a drink at some point this week. G replied that it sounded too much like a date, but that she'd be up for 'some fun'. Since The Lawyer is on a quest for non-committal sex (she calls it her 'holy grail') she replied that this would be perfect for her. G then proceeded to hedge and waver between suggesting that they 'make out' and telling her that she was still hung up on her ex-girlfriend. After going back and forth most of the day via e-mail, The Lawyer responded:

'I stopped thinking about this 3 hours ago. You’re all over the place. In one email you would make out with me. In the next email you’re telling me that you can’t predict your mood. In another email you want to have fun. Your vacillating feelings are overwhelming and I don’t want to deal with it. I’m not comfortable with the fact that you’re a different person to me every five minutes. And besides, what makes you think that everything is about you? This is not entirely your decision. I have a voice in it as well. I wouldn’t have even addressed the issue on Saturday but you seemed pretty willing. And the part where you screamed sexy to me when I was on the phone with M while you were in the cab gave me a clue that you may have wanted something. However, that will not be happening.
I don’t know what kind of women you’ve dealt with in the past but I can assure you that I don’t play these types of games. If you’re head is not together then by all means take whatever steps you need to get it together. I certainly don’t want to see you emotionally distraught over anything. So we’ll see each other when we see each other. I still like you. You’re funny and sometimes have interesting things to say. You’re a good acquaintance and fun at parties. We’ll continue as we have all along.'

Sum, Parts, Whole

1. I made the unfortunate decision to weigh myself this past weekend after eating all of Boston. It was quite unpleasant. This is why I don't own a scale. And also why I had an apple for dinner last night.

2. Apparently, all of the arm strength that I've built up over the last several months can suddenly disappear if I skip yoga for a week. I couldn't even get halfway up into a headstand last night.

3. At Big Daddy's suggestion, I spent much of my time in Boston trying to 'dumb it down' (he's convinced it will improve my dating life) with moderate success. Just need to subtract the vocabulary and add more hair twirling.

4. Honeychild also contributed her theory: 'Make his personality your personality. You are a blank slate and have no interests of your own, other than doing shots or watching SportsCenter.'

5. MM might be moving out of the 'hood, which devastates me. I can't possibly be expected to walk longer than 5 blocks or get on the subway for our weekly ridiculousness.

6. I believe I am going to join my family at the beach, even though this summer has been one long vacation with bouts of job hunting thrown in. Plus, who could resist spending a solid week with The Peanut?

7. I am currently waking up around 6:15 each morning without the aid of an alarm clock, a fact which remains constant regardless of my bedtime. I'm sure this will change in a few weeks when I am working, and will be dragging my ass out of bed at the last possible minute to run for the subway.

Hmmm

Very unexpectedly, I started sobbing at the end of yoga tonight. Luckily, we were in Savasana, so I don't think anyone witnessed my breakdown. Which is good. I like to keep my occasional craziness confined to my home. Or my blog.

I'm not sure what this was all about. Perhaps it was the slight fun-weekend-hangover I've been feeling all day, or the ton of hip-openers we did during class.

Home!

Honeychild and Big Daddy are amazing hosts. That being said, I am truly happy to be home today. I'm sitting on my couch, drinking iced coffee, listening to iTunes and writing.

The only way this could be better is if I had remembered to buy toilet paper and cereal last night...

L is for Loser

Sometimes I amaze myself with just how sad I am.

This morning, I flipped on the television in the guest room where I am staying. It hadn't been on since I stumbed to bed in the early hours on Sunday morning, where I vaguely recall watching about 15 minutes of...something...before I passed out. The television is currently on the same channel. Which is Lifetime.

I'm so glad to be entering this new phase of my life. Apparently, I'm a sad, middle-aged woman with too many cats who enjoys 'Television for Women'. Gah.

Booty Vortex, Geek Vortex

On Friday night, after a shitty 6 hour bus ride up to Boston, Honeychild, her husband, and I went to a local pub to see Georgia Overdrive, who "play the best (and some of the worst) classic country from Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash to Glenn Campbell and Johnny Paycheck, paying homage to the great songs and artists of country music songs about truck drivin', heartache, and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer".

(By the way, Honeychild's husband has a new moniker, and shall heretofore be referred to as 'Big Daddy', at least for the purposes of this blog).

The band was really entertaining, and we amused ourselves further by looking over the other bar patrons and attempting to figure out if they had been there since happy hour (in most cases, it was readily obvious: eyes at half-mast, rumpled business attire, stumbling). The bar was very crowded when we arrived at 10, then cleared out around midnight (most celebrants left to pass out, or vomit, or both). Around 1:30, Honeychild and I were sitting at the back of the bar, while Big Daddy was off performing his unofficial social duties as the mayor of Davis/Porter Square, and the bar got super crowded again, with people stopping by on their way home from somewhere else. We were still listening to the band (and I was hoping for an introduction to the lead singer) when we found ourselves surrounded by a whole new cast of characters.

These boys were very drunk, slightly geeky, trying to hook up, and not at all subtle about any of it. We named some of the more interesting contenders: Samurai Lumberjack (ponytail on the top of his head, beard), The Lizard (platinum-dyed hair, disturbing stare), Mr. Clean (bald), Striped Shirt Guy (um, striped shirt, bad sandals). A few approached, and we did our best to rebuff kindly. I got trapped in a conversation with The Russian, who told me that I had 'big eyes' and that I reminded him of his 10th grade math teacher, whom he wanted to 'bang'. Honeychild was accosted by Mr. Clean, who walked up, kissed her hand and then stood there and said nothing. Most of them just stared at us, and there might have been some winking or smiling. Hard to tell through the laughter.

After enduring about 10 minutes of this, we spotted Big Daddy talking to the band, and we escaped the vortex to hang with them. Which was infinitely better.

Guest Post By Honeychild

Hello Babies! Honeychild is so honored to be guest blogging today. I’m 34 now. Officially in my “mid-thirties.” Had a fantastic birthday that turned fantastically ugly just after midnight.

My girl ridiculouschick came up to Boston to celebrate her new job and my new gig with the righteous funk band Booty Vortex. Got some badass gifts from my family (a red rubber dress can only be described as bad ass), went for a hike, had a delicious lunch, then headed out to the club. The gig rocked. (Or more appropriately, it funk’d) The band sounded great and lots of friends turned out to celebrate with me. That’s where the trouble begins - many friends wanting to buy Honeychild shots for her big birthday. What’s wrong with free drinks you say? Honeychild isn’t much of a drinker. But birthdays and post-gig adrenaline have been known to paralyze the judgment of even the most conservative people.

Here now are some of the lessons learned on my 34th birthday:

- Don’t do shots (especially 3 different shots, especially when you don’t usually drink more than a couple glasses of wine a week)
- Don’t mix shots and gin and tonic
- Don’t do all of the above in the span of one hour

Thankfully, the lovely ridiculouschick and my very understanding husband were there to hold my long, curly locks and coach me through a very painful 3 hours of retching, during which I distinctly remember:

- Hearing “Time of My Life” on the radio, feeling my stomach turn, retching again, then screaming for someone to TURN OFF THE FREAKING 80’S STATION!
- Telling my dog Stella that “Mommy is drunk” and then begging someone to remove her from the bathroom in a lame attempt to protect her opinion of me

So, I spent my 34th birthday acting more like I was 24…okay 14. Good friends got me into it and good friends got me out of it. Friends are good, Maker’s Mark is bad.

Celebration Tour

I arrived back in NYC last night (where was the apocryphal rainstorm they were predicting?). I'm off shortly to Dream Job HR to receive a formal job offer, negotiate salary, start date, etc.

Then it's onto another bus to Boston to visit Honeychild, celebrate her birthday, and rock out to her band.

When The Going Gets Tough...

...I go to the beach.

I'm leaving this afternoon for the Jerz shore. Given my badly sprained (and self-doctored) taped-up thumb, the pending collapse of my bathroom ceiling, and the sweltering humidity - I'm out.

PS: The Lawyer says that my apartment karma is so bad that I must have been a slumlord in my previous life. Heh.

Virgo

I am a Virgo. While I do not possess all typical Virgoan traits, I thoroughly embrace neatness and order.

This morning, to my great dismay, I woke to find water pouring out of my bathroom ceiling and tiles. It was even more upsetting to go charging upstairs to discover the source of the leak, and to have my neighbor answer his door clad only in his dingy underwear. I raced back downstairs (throwing up a little in my mouth) to find water seeping into my living room. After locating a bucket and placing all of my towels on the floor, my Super entered the apartment, assessed the damage, and told me nothing could be fixed for at least a week, so that the beams and the wood could dry out. I did the only thing I could: escaped to MM's where we spent the day on her couch, watching movies and bemoaning our cramps.

I'm home now, contemplating the soggy mess on my bathroom floor. Do you think if I go to yoga, the bathroom elves will have this cleaned up by the time I get back?

Uh Oh

My brother just called to invite me over for dinner. The Peanut is making dessert. When I asked if I could bring anything, he replied 'Your liver. Let's get our drink on and celebrate.'

Sunday Morning

Last week was extremely ridiculous, even by my standards. It was so ridiculous that last night, I was in bed by 8:30, and asleep shortly after that.

Monday: LK and I met up with her close friend, The Photographer, at El Centro for 'a drink'. Which turned into several drinks and dinner, followed by hanging out with MS, whom I called on my way home and cajoled into coming downstairs to smoke with me.

Tuesday: Late night craziness at my apartment with The Librarian.

Wednesday: Dinner in the 'hood, drinks at The Snug (which finally opened, yay!), champagne at The Renaissance, more drinks at Vintage.

Thursday: Book Club. (and no, we didn't ask or answer any of those discussion questions.. We mostly drank wine and deconstructed the latest US Weekly.) Then onto The Phoenix, followed by Bamboo52, and Posh. At Posh, I was unabashedly mean to a Sweaty PR Annoying Guy who just wouldn't go away. So I got meaner and meaner, and he still didn't leave us alone. Huh.

Friday: Dinner with JP to discuss the recent events between us, his hurt feelings at my non-attendance of his cocktail party, the woman that he is in love with in Boston, and the woman he is dating in New York. Feelings are soothed and the wine was good. Then off to Flatiron Lounge for a 2nd date with Anti-Robin Hood. It was good. Very, very good. Frighteningly good.

Saturday: 9:00 am train to Jones Beach. Sun, sand, gay men in satin jumpsuits, Lance in the water 99.9% of the time, Coronas from the beer man, hilarity.

I think I'm going to pause next week and spend some time at Long Beach Island. I need a break.

Happiness

Thank you to everyone for your congratulations and good wishes. And to MM for the awesome Rod Stewart 1983 concert t-shirt which I'm currently wearing for the second day in a row. And to MM and Lost Girl for indulging in Renaissance Diner champagne last night (horrible, just horrible). And to MS for jumping up and down on 9th Avenue with me.

THE BEST NEWS EVER

I got the job.

Waiting

So, The Librarian graciously agreed to come over tonight and help me 'cope'. Because nothing sucks more than waiting. For news. About a job that you really want.

And after several margaritas, we just went to the trusty corner deli and bought
(2) 40 oz. Coronas
(1) Vanilla Silk Soymilk
(1) pack Camel Lights

Let the games begin...

Weird

I'm feeling so strange. MM thinks it's very entertaining, because I'm crazy. I feel elated at the possibility of the Dream Job, but also trying to keep everything in check in case I don't get it.

This makes for a strange space in which to live.

Yup

In the words of The Official Band of New Jersey, 'I've seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all.'

The interview was great. And on the way out, I ran into an acquaintance from graduate school who works there, who volunteered to put in a good word for me. The Interviewer said I would be notified on Wednesday.

I'm off to sit in the sun with LK. Maybe have some Coronas...

The Dream Is Alive!

My 2nd interview with Dream Job is scheduled for Monday morning at 10:00.

What do I do? Well, first blog, then continuous shower.

Breathing Room

I just spoke with Agency #2, and they want to check my references. And the position would not start until August 1st.

All readers, please direct any psychic energy that you possess toward Brooklyn, the Dream Job HR department and the Dream Job hiring manager.

I'm off to take another shower...

Working It

Just woke up from a much needed nap to discover a voicemail message from Social Service Agency #2, offering me a job. Crap. I mean, great. But crap. This is SO my second choice and I'm still waiting to hear from Dream Job. Do I take this offer and then quit if I get the other job?

I think I'll take a shower and think about this. Because when you have a difficult decision to make...you shower.

It's Not The Heat...

Yeah, that's right. I'm going to talk about the weather. Because, well, everyone else is talking about the weather lately, and I need to be just like everyone else, all the time.

You'd think NYC was under some kind of siege - what with the stalled subway lines, and the 'interupting this program to bring you a special report', and the cooling centers, and the heat indices...I haven't yet seen any signs of disaster-type shopping (you know, people loading up on bottled water, loaves of bread, and US Weekly) but then again, I've been avoiding convenience stores and supermarkets in a misguided attempt to Eat Out Of My Cupboards and Save Some Money.

I don't want to suggest that everyone is crazy, that this is just hot weather, and that I am immune to it all. For the better part of the past few days, I've been holed up in my apartment, cranking up my air conditioning and hoping that there won't be a blackout (although, if there *is* a blackout, it's certainly not my fault). I have to admit that I have been watching the news and looking at the weather maps with a certain sense of grim determination. When I have ventured out, I've seen people striding by who are barely breaking a sweat, and those who look like they might collapse at any moment. My particularly foolhardy moment was choosing to attend a 90 minute yoga class last night. I was a sodden, collapsed mess.

Oh well. At least I was smart enough to decline an invitation to a cocktail party this Thursday, hosted by my friend JP that I just hooked up with, and very possibly attended by A. Awkward!

Job Update

I just spoke with the Social Worker at my Dream Job, and I can only hope that I didn't sound as stressed out and nervous as I felt.

The good news: she wants to bring me in for a 2nd interview.
The bad news: she is also interviewing two other people, and she has space to hire two Social Workers. One of us will be voted off the island. Also, she is waiting to hear from her HR department, so she is not sure when the positions will open up.

She asked if I was currently working, and I said that I was close to receiving an offer from another agency (which I am). Does playing 'hard to get' extend to employment opportunities?

Haiku

of course we hooked up
prosecco at 1 am
will do that to you

oh lovely shame-walk!
up 10th and past the convent
good morning, sister

oh [your friend] loves you
MS sing-songs in a taunt
no, he just loves sex

Action

Well, I guess one possible way of figuring it out is to randomly hook up with one of your closest friends...

Comfort Is The Enemy Of Progress

I'm reflective lately (no, not with mirrors) and I'm examining my patterns, and the walls and the nests that I have built, and how much effort I've put into maintaining that comfortable space within and around my world. I'm happy, but I know I need to reach. I'm taking the risks, but only by half. The center will not hold forever.

This doesn't mean treating this summer as my own personal version of 'The Bachelorette', or, conversely, withdrawing into myself. The trick is to let people in (calm it down over there, Groomzilla) in a way that feels right to me.

I just don't know how. Any ideas???

Trust

It has recently been suggested to me that I have trouble letting people into my life. Last night, I was described as 'reserved'.

And then there's my horoscope for today...

Nobody is an island -- it's an obvious statement to say that you need relationships to get you through life. Other people provide the acid to your base, and can often be a perfect sounding board for your ideas. But in order to make the deep connections you need for total honesty, you must develop trust. The only way to do this is to take a risk and let someone in. So reach out today -- lower your drawbridge and invite someone to cross your moat.

Coney Island

Yesterday, The Librarian and I went to Coney Island to celebrate her birthday...

...with hot dogs and cheese fries. I've been eating a lot of hot dogs lately. Maybe I should turn this into a career.



...and funnel cake. Mmm, sweet funnel cake.



...and crazy-ass Grandma fortune tellers. You can't really see it, but there is an empty bottle of Bacardi in the booth with her, and she has a lazy eye.

Fabulousity

Well. I had planned to regale all 10 million of my readers with tales from Ju's bachelorette party, which was held last night at The Soho House. I had hoped to post of pictures of the roof deck where we had dinner, or share gossip about canoodling famous people. I had at least thought that I'd be able to share my outrage at drink prices. Nope. Nada. Photography is forbidden due to possible Page 6 leakage, it seemed that there was nary a celebrity available for my reportage, and beverages were no more costly than in any other bar in the city.

We had a lovely dinner, followed by sedate cocktail drinking in the lounge, ending with a cab ride back to Hell's Kitchen and gravy fries at the Renaissance Diner. Actually, the most exciting part of last night, at least for me, was that I had somehow managed to coordinate a $10.99 dress and a $10.00 necklace into an outfit worthy of Soho House fabulousness. Oh, and that in that dress, I didn't inadvertently expose my chest in public.

Things I Am Not In The Mood For Today

1. Coffee with no Splenda and no ice. And no-one to blame but me for my Splenda-less and ice-less state.

2. Crappy, half-assed apologies from a friend who blew me off last night, and who has been blowing me off for the better part of the past week.

3. Laundry.

4. The kind of frantic apartment cleaning that comes from the realization that a) I haven't cleaned my apartment in a really long time, b) I have 8 people coming over for dinner and drinks tonight, and c) I have another friend staying with me for the weekend.

5. Coffee with no Splenda and no ice spilled all over my coffee table. Ha Ha.

6. Slightly aggressive e-mails from potential dates via match.com, asking if I've 'disappeared'.

7. Thoughts about why I've let my apartment get so dirty. I'm not working, and I'm obviously not cleaning, so what the hell am I doing with my life?

8. A slight nicotine and alcohol hangover.

9. A broken iPod and a frustrating conversation with customer service about my expired warranty.

10. Sunshine, honking horns, and people who won't get the fuck out of my way on the sidewalk.

Community

Thanks, MM!

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

Wailin' Jennys

Perspective

Just back from New Jersey (is there an echo in here?). Again. My SIL's mother was suddenly hospitalized early in the week, so she went home to Connecticut to help with the crisis. I stayed with my brother to watch The Peanut while he went to work.

[Note to Self: May be wise to curb those thoughts about having a child on my own at age 35. I could never do this alone, and my niece is the most well-behaved child on the planet.]

I've spent the past few days laughin' and goofin' (her words) and watching Barney far too many times, and Eskimo kissing, and doing bead projects, and hearing 'love you, JoJo', and splashing in baths, and listening to the elaborate stories The Peanut concocts on her way to falling asleep in her 'chib' (her words). Despite the exhaustion, we've had fun. And in the back of my mind, this has felt like an extended playdate, rather than my SIL's family emergency. My niece breaks my heart with her innocence, the way she says 'water' (wager) and 'little' (wiggle), the way she clings to me just after waking up in the morning. It's very likely she is going to lose her grandmother ('amma D) soon.

I ache for her, for my SIL and for my brother.

Dream Job

Just got back into the city after an idyllic time in New Jersey (ponder that for a while) on my parent's deck, barbequeing and playing with The Peanut.

I have a huge job interview tomorrow. This position would be a great opportunity for me, and would fit perfectly with the career that I want to develop. I can't even write much more about this for fear of the jinx.

I'm already starting to feel jittery.

Lazy Sunday

Oh! It's July. This means that I absolutely need to check my horoscope. Other than a 9:00 pm showing of Superman Returns, my only other agenda item for the day is sitting on my couch and nursing a cold. I hate summer colds. They seem to linger more than other colds, and they just feel wrong. If my nose is running and my head aches and my cough sounds like something that belongs to a chain-smoking 80-year-old, and it's December - fine. But when it's bright and sunny outside? Wrong.

Friday night, had an awesome dinner in Fort Greene with DJ & BC *and* got to drool over their super-cute new apartment. I think I need to move to Brooklyn.

Yesterday, had an awesome (really need to stop using that word so much) day at Jones Beach, and an even better time eating dumplings and drinking gin & tonic in Miss Margaret's backyard garden (alcohol generously donated by MS & Groom, leftover from the wedding), followed by a bizarre foray into the Meatpacking District with the aforementioned grooms (during which we received roughly 1,274 dismissive looks, probably based upon our beach attire/bags) to meet up with my high school friend for a regrettably brief encounter after which I returned home and took the second best shower of my life (the first) and fell into bed.

Random Thought: Would it be appropriate during a job interview, when asked what my biggest weakness is, to tell the interviewer about my overuse of the word awesome?