sleep betrayal

My dreams have become increasingly transparent. It makes me sad. I miss the days when I dreamt (I also miss the days of irregular conjugation. Did you know it's now supposed to be "dreamed?" Yech.) I was an old woman being chased by Hitler and an army of Nazis and I'd try to stop him by throwing explosive pineapples out of my one-person helicopter and I kept writing vague yet powerfully symbolic metaphoric one-liners on post-it notes to the other old women in the Nazi party warning them of impending doom. Those days are gone. Perhaps I'll buy some cran-raspberry juice and drink it right before going to bed. That always gave me weird dreams in the past.

Last night's dream didn't take place in any fantastic world but it did carry a lot of emotion. I was in some American town in my father and his wife's home. My dad was incredibly unstable, bordering on psychotic. My dad's wife wanted me to talk to him. I went into the bathroom, where he had trapped himself in the glass shower. He was fully clothed and had lost a lot of weight. When he saw me he started angrily screaming and yelling. He reached up to a rack on the wall which held a multitude of knives, blades and other sharp objects and took down a large razor blade. The whole time I just stood there, I knew exactly what was going to happen but couldn't see any way to stop it. He paused his screaming, look directly at me, yelled "Sacrifice is art!" and started slashing at his arm trying to cut off his hand. (I would never say that out loud but apparently I'd think it.)

It was later explained that the whole reason he basically went crazy had to do with my unborn brother that I had absorbed or killed or mutilated in some way or something. And then things went from there.

See? No flying. No super powers. No hot celebrity sex (though I don't really ever have those dreams). Just a lot of semi-subconscious guilt-shit cropping up.

I should probably call my dad. I need a vacation. And some imagination.

the real me?

According the The Golden Compass movie's website my Dæmon is:



I took this test a bunch of times and tried to answer as honestly as possible. Really. I was practically stressing out trying to be truthful. And I didn't just retake it because I didn't like the first few Dæmons it gave me.

Anyway, you should click on the picture and take the test about me to see if you agree. Here's the thing though, your answers affect what everyone else sees. The qualities associated with me stay the same because that's what came up when I took the test, that way when someone else views this they'll still answer the questions based on the original test's qualities. But the Dæmon will keep changing based on your answers. So don't go answering things willy-nilly; I don't want to end up with a cockroach or something. And you should probably only do it once. I started running into problems when I kept answering questions for myself over and over again just to see what would happen.

So take the test. And after taking the test you should read the book. And after reading the book you should see the movie, with me.

what?

Every Thursday my job has a "manager's meeting," which I am supposed to attend. And I have been attending...every Thursday...at 11AM...for the past 6 months.

But not today.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I really have no idea what day of the week it is anymore. Nothing divides my days because my entire week is a hodgepodge of work and Pilates. Different days just mean a different schedule of the same routines. This morning I totally sat at my desk playing solitaire while the meeting was happening. At one point I stopped and thought, huh, L & L have been gone a long time, I wonder where they are? On my way to the kitchen to fill up my water bottle I even walked by the conference room where the meeting was being held. I saw everyone in there and still nothing clicked. I figured they were probably having a reporting meeting that didn't concern me. I doubt I would have ever realized my mistake if my boss hadn't mentioned something when I just went to ask her about an unrelated problem.

lose weight now, ask me how!

You will need:

1 low paying job
3 senses of impending dread (life, love, money)
1 commitment that forces you to go to the gym
1 obsessive need to exercise
a healthy dose of low self-esteem
and lots and lots of natural aversion to food

It's so easy!*

A while ago I was tabulating all my expenses over the past few months (because my job is dull and I'm not going to work to make it better), trying to figure out if I could move (it turns out I can't, but that's another post that will never be). I discovered that since January I've spent almost the exact same amount on food every month, like, within a few dollars. And I don't plan my meals or budget when it comes to food. I mean, I don't actively budget, I just let my impending sense of dread, related to money, dictate when and what I eat. And apparently it keeps me on the mark. I thought this was pretty impressive until tarak pointed out that it might only mean that I eat the exact same thing every month. And she was right. That certainly turned this exciting phenomenon into a bland happenstance. The end.

Better go get on the treadmill.

*ice cream, brownie batter or smores are not valid substitutes for or add ins to the above ingredients

I'll be there

I think I finally understand the madness of those Hairy Pauter fans. I can't wait for this movie to come out. I love this book and indeed the whole His Dark Materials trilogy. I'm not sure if the movie can compete with my imagination but I'm willing to give it a try. I'm still willing even after watching the trailer, which was lackluster. I don't care; I'll be lining up to see the first viewing. I mean, maybe. But not if the line is like, really long. But still, I am excited.

I was at B&N the other day and wanted to buy The Golden Compass because the only other book I had in my bag was this one (don't ask) and lord, that wasn't gettin' me through my subway ride. Unfortunately the store only had copies of the next two books...but they also had the trilogy conveniently bound in one book. What to do? I actually already own the 2nd and 3rd books so I didnt' really need a full volume but wouldn't it be handy to have them all together and if I bought it then I could just let my other copies stay in circulation in Book Club and I could keep this one all for my greedy self and I know I'd have to use my credit card because I don't have any money but that's what credit cards are for right or should I spend that money on some other books that I don't already own? What a dilemma. I didn't buy it. But I did, a few hours later, take an unnecessarily long train ride to go to a different book store where I was either going to buy The Golden Compass or, if they didn't have it, give myself permission to buy the full volume. They (unfortunately) did have the single book but now I'm almost done and I don't have the other two, they're loaned out! Now what will I do? Read something new? Never!

bringing...back

I know sometimes I seem cold...distant...self conscious...sad. But that's not always the case. (At first I typed "but's that not true." I quickly realized my semantic mistake.) Get me in the right setting and I'll set my inner fool free. Usually that setting is my solitary room, late night, window shades drawn, lights off, pipe out and thoroughly smoked. But this time it was a pool.

Hooray! Water! I feel so free! And reflective!


Oo! Eeep! Hah hah, it's tickling me! Good thing I'm wearing sunglasses.

But where would we be without just a little bitta sexy?

Oooh yeah, baby. This is so hot and not at all completely annoying. No, I love chlorinated water getting splattered into my eyes. Gets me goin'!

It seems like in a lot of anime I watch a recurring power (usually of the evil character) is the ability to absorb another person (also usually including, and most importantly, that person's soul). Then they either gain that other person's power or their hair turns colors or they just get generally stronger or something. The point is, I think I might be developing that ability.

It begins. She can't escape.


Does that make me evil? Who cares! As long as I get better skin and softer hair out of it, that's fine with me.

I also like that though Miss M is holding the beer, I'm the one who appears to be drunk. Or am I just sleepily sexy? I've been cultivating that look a lot lately, though often dropping the sexy.

pretty (something)

"This is one time, growing up on the farm..."

Welcome words to some, dreaded to others. But no longer need you rely on my lackluster storytelling abilities. No longer need you use your imagination, or at least not as much. Come with me on a tour of my childhood.

It's starts, appropriately and stereotypically enough, with a barn.

This barn belongs to my old neighbor. Dry, weathered, dusty. Everything you'd expect.

And then there's this thing.

This is a really really old beet digger that's been sitting there for as long as I remember. I think maybe my grandfather used it when my dad was a kid. I think it's pretty cool. Of course, I think all these pictures are pretty cool.

And now, my cherished childhood stomping ground: the mighty WATERFALL!

Can't you just feel the danger?! I swear it was bigger when I was 6. It really freaked me out. It seemed like a rushing river. Those are my sisters sittin' on the bridge. We used to go swimming in that canal, pesticides and all. It's probably about 3 1/2 feet deep. That's enough to drown in.

And a view from the other side.
See those tall trees in the distance on the right? Well, just to the left of those are some shorter trees, that's my old house. I used to weed that field. It was filled with mint when I lived there and my sister, my dad and I would weed it all by hand and there's a lot more you don't see. That was a bitch, but having mint waft through the open windows of your house on a summer evening was pretty delightful.

And speaking of work, can you set a syphon?
Ida can do it one handed. I never could.

And lastly, one more picture of the swimmin' canal.

Look at that blue sky. I miss it. New York is great for a lot of things but open space isn't one of them.

stuffin' stuff

Today I: went on a date (sort-of), saw Harry Potter (eh) and got my written final back from my Pilates instructor (good). First, the date. This guy contacted me on Friendster (which actually I just remembered that I have a link to this blog posted on my friendster account so I'll have to delete that because he might read it, I mean, if I saw a link to his blog I would totally read it. I don't think he has a blog though). Anyway, we only three short email exchanges and today we met. We met at Columbus Circle and then took a walk through Central Park. I got nervous (the meeting place was my idea) so I ran into Whole Foods and bought some bread, cheese, apples and two different juices. We ended up walking all the way to 90th before we sat down and ate. He didn't eat anything, just drank his juice. But we talked the whole time. About what you ask? What else, art. We seriously only talked about art the whole two hours we were together. It was actually pretty interesting and I realized that he definitely had a more interesting education than me. We have a lot of similar opinions on art and it was nice to talk to someone who didn't worry about immediately talking about art and only art, because that's often what I want to do when I meet people. Here's the question though, do I have to be immediately attracted to him? Because I wasn't. I think I'm still too superficial, how do I change that?

Second, Harry Potter. Laurenj was nice enough to invite me along with her and some friends. It was fun to hang out with them, even though we were all facing forward and coudn't really talk. Still, what a bonding moment. But the movie: I was unimpressed. I mean, I had fun-ish but I didn't think this was was nearly as good as the last one. And I certainly don't think this one is the darkest so far. This movie reminded me too much of the first two, too much sappy happiness with "beautiful" sweeping shots and flowing sentimental string music. Ugh. For me, this movie captured a lot of what I find annoying about the books, all the plot holes and confusing situations. Plus I just kept waiting for ol' Fiennes to show up. That lack of a nose only makes him sexier in my book. That just means his tongue could get deeper. Hot! But he was really only in the last few minutes. Really, there wasn't enough adult acting in this movie at all. Almost every adult in these series is a wonderful actor and yet they never get to do anything. Oh Maggie.

Third, my Pilates instructor said my written final was great. That felt nice. She encouraged me to take my practical test so that she could start scheduling clients with me or, more accurately, have the potential to schedule clients with me. I don't know if there are enough clients to actually schedule. We'll see where that goes.

that's what the sun does

A few weeks ago the head of my department invited her staff out to her house for a little get together. She apparently does this every year and yet so far no one's been able to go. Well, not this year. I asked around to see who could come and at first the turnout looked good. Five of us peons plus my immediate boss and her husband. By the time last Sunday rolled around though two people dropped out. So three of us jumped on the bus Sunday morning at 10AM (did I mention she lives in New Jersey?) prepared for we didn't know what. It turns out my boss boss has a lovely house, a pretty great yard and a very nice pool...that only I went swimming in. No one else even brought a bathing suit; but I wasn't to be deterred. I stayed in that pool for as long as possible. I had two Bloody Marys, two margaritas and 4 cigarettes, some while still in the pool. I haven't smoked for quite a while but it just seemed right to smoke while all cool sunglassed up while hanging on the side of the pool.

We were there for about 6 hours. A pleasant retreat from New York, I don't think I heard a car honk once. We were pretty tuckered out (or at least I was) on the bus ride home but none of worse for it. HL graciously let me use his shoulder.

Awwww.

Yesterday on our lunch break, HL and I made up a new game called Spitty Splashy. It's played with, duh, two people. Splashy needs a cup of cold water, Spitty is empty handed. The rules are as follows:

Splashy: dip your fingers in the water and flick it as your opponent
Spitty: quickly lick your fingers and slap your opponent's arm

The object of the game is to win. Actually, the real object is to annoy the hell out of each other. It's pretty fun. Guess which player I was.

lessons

What I learned from Men's Health magazine
or as I usually think it should be called: Your Window Into the Idiotic Straight Male Psyche

Women are...interested in men who express alpha status. Accomplish this by using a loud voice, speaking often, taking up lots of space, and interrupting others.

In other words, get drunk and act like the asshole you know you are, asshole. That makes sense since I'm pretty sure men are interested in women who display omega status. Accomplish this by always agreeing, doing his laundry and keeping your dumb-ass mouth shut. What other gems can MH offer?

The message you must convey to women boils down to "I'm here, I'm male, and I won't hurt you."

That's definitely the first thing I'd like to know. (I'll have you know I didn't even add that color, HM used it on it's own.)

Maybe just one more:

Rather than what she says, how she acts is a much more reliable gauge of what she's thinking. Straightening her hair or orienting her body toward you means she's interested.

And if she says "no," she really means "Yes!"

These are just random quotes from the article printed on the accompanying photographs. I don't know if I have the wherewithal to read the entire blathering piece. Plus I might just end up quoting the entire thing on here.

What I learned last night

Semi-pleasurable sexual experiences do not provide enhanced artistic inspiration. Apparently I have to be utterly disappointed and unsatisfied to tap into my well of creativity. That uncomfortable mix of pleasure and mild shame just doesn't cut it. Maybe I'm expecting too much, it was at least a learning experience on my creative process. When it comes down to it, I'm really doing research. Where's my grant money?

What I learned right now

No matter how tired you are or how late you might be you should always check weather.com. Stupid rain. Stupid sandals.

What else I learned right now

If you're going to be at a gym for 4 hours you might as well bring some workout clothes, even if you don't feel like exercising, because you probably won't have anything better to do.

Also, this morning (at 5:30AM) I cried on the subway again from The Road. Again. I restrained myself a bit more this time. Who knows what other psychotic shit might have come spilling out that early?

math at the end of the world

l x w = ?

What's the answer? I'll give you a hint: it has to do with rectangles.

I was playing online pictionary (also called graffiti by those Yah*oo bastards, just to make it hard to find) and my "requesting to remain anonymous for this very reason" coworkers could not guess the answer. (I had actually drawn them a square as well.) I refused to start a new drawing. We sat there for over a minute while I kept saying Length times width! Length times width! I was flabbergasted. In an attempt to find someone to share my befuddlement I told this story to another coworker who also failed to provide the correct answer. How could this be?! They each justified their woefully lacking knowledge of math by pointing out that they majored in theater. Damn arts, ruining the scientific minds of our "youth."

Let's jump to a new topic.

Have you read The Road by Cormac McCarthy? It's really good. Really really good. This is my second time reading it in less than a year and it made me cry on the subway this morning. It was a pretty crowded train at 7:30AM and I was sobbing. His writing completely caught me off guard. I think it's becoming one of my favorite books ever. You should read it.

You know what's better than lukewarm V8? Probably most things.

I did send off most of the emails that I was supposed to though. It's really hard to try to keep track of 8 different people's schedules. I need a better planner. I wish I had an electronic one with an actual type schedule in it. Like the one on my computer at home. That would be great.

Ugh, I still have 3 1/2 more hours of sitting alone in the box office before I can go home and figure out what kind of food to eat, based on what currently grosses me out the least. That'll be fun, won't it?

some problems

It's funny how little things can still upset me so completely. Not so much funny "ha ha" more funny "psycho."

I just received a "thanks but no thanks" email from my pilates instructor concerning my pilates notes. The book of exercise notes she gave my "class" was written a while ago by her husband and she didn't like the way it was done. She noticed that I had been retyping all of the notes in a better format and adding notes from the DVDs she had given us. She mentioned she was interested in buying either my notes or another girl's. So I sent off my notes for her to look at and she just emailed me saying she's going with the other girl's. Now, normally that would only hurt a little bit but here's the thing. I've trained with this other girl and while she's training me she keeps consulting her notes but can't figure out what they're referring to. For instance, we'd be doing an exercise and she'd read "reach arms overhead for stretch" and she would say, "Hmm, I don't know if that means behind you or to the ceiling or what. Let's try some different things." And we did and I didn't feel a stretch so obviously her notes weren't helping. I deliberately made my notes explicitly clear so that if you couldn't exactly remember how an exercise was to be accomplished it would tell you. I don't see the point of using notes that don't make any sense. But her notes were apparently almost verbatim from the DVDs which I'll admit I didn't do because my instructor doesn't cover everything in the DVDs and rambles a lot. Anyway, the rejection just hurt and the thing is it hurt way more than it should have. That's not even much of a rejection but I really went temporarily crazy-hate in my head. Literally, it was like rage was coming out every pore of my skin. I should probably work on that with my therapist. (Who still doesn't exist sooo...I'm done!)

I know the feeling

My my. I don't know if this song is work appropriate, nevertheless it's what's playing right now. Good thing I'm alone up here.
____________________________
Once I had taste
Once I crossed the line
Once it overflowed
I lost my mind

The smell of you is sex
The thought of you is cream
The taste of you it makes me scream

Once I bit the fruit
Once I turned the key
Once is not enough when
You're deep in me
____________________________
Mmm-hmm.

accurate

Isaac was once again accusing me of lacking feelings (brought on by my desire to go to Fashion Soup for lunch, figure that connection out):

HL: Your heart is made of ice.
pause
Me (softly whimpering): It can still break.

an achievement?

When I arrived at work yesterday I had a lovely sense of satisfaction over my many accomplishments already finished that morning. What were those grand accomplishments? Waking up early, riding the subway from the south end of Brooklyn to the north end of Manhattan, showering, then riding back to midtown and only arriving to work 15 minutes late. So my accomplishments basically consisted of basic hygiene, sitting on my ass and arriving to work late. If I can keep up this awesome potential I'll be curing cancer in no time.

Did I tell you I went on a "date" the other day? I know, can you believe it? Maybe I won't be alone forever. To recount the entire "date" would be annoying so I'll just tell you this: it began with a train ride and ended with me washing his shorts. Let that titillate your imagination, you'll probably come up with something better than what really happened. Of course, we all know the real ending is my remaining alone but whatever. It kind of blows that when I finally get up the nerve to ask someone out it has to be someone who's soon to be unavailable (he's from Montreal and going back soon). Am I turning into my mother? He is originally from Normandy and speaks French so maybe I am. (See francophile blog, that's ma mere.)

gay blogilates

I haven't posted for so long that I almost forgot my blogger password.

Today's post starts off all about pilates and I think YorN might be the only person who'll be genuinely interested. You'll see why soon, I'm about to get dancer dorky. I had a session with a fellow trainee and she rocks. She has a great eye and has really helped to start balance me out. She's noticed that the right side of my body is much more developed than my left and that I totally cheat at exercises to compensate. This morning I told her that I wanted to work on a specific series because I was having a lot of trouble with my scapulae flaring out. I mentioned that my scapulae are crazy because even when I'm just standing there they start to poke out from my back and I could not figure out how to keep them down. First and only of all, in my pilates and my old dance classes, the instructors were always talking about finding the lats (the latissimus dorsi, a huge muscle of the back) and pulling them down. So today, Megan (the fellow trainee) and I started experimenting and we discovered that when I'm told to pull my lats down what I actually do is depress my scapulae by contracting my rhomboids. I couldn't access my lats at all! And this whole time that's totally what I thought I was doing! I was horribly upset that I was so lacking in body awareness. We spent the next 10 minutes just trying to get me to find my lats. I was finally able to but then keeping that awareness and performing exercises is really hard. Like, really hard. Then, after we had done some more pilates, Megan showed me some more exercises I could do just for my lats because once again, my right side is more developed than my left. I started concentrating on those and noticed that when looking in the mirror in front of me I actually had a great view of my back, it being reflected from the mirror behind me. So I of course stripped off my shirt so I could really see those lats working. It helped a lot. And really, my back looks pretty good, maybe hot even. I then became fascinated with the imbalances in my back when I was just standing still. Namely, my right scapula juts out and up much more noticeably than my left. I played with trying to bring it back into alignment but now it's 5 hours later and I must have concentrated on it too much because now all I can feel is that shouderblade poking out and it's starting to hurt and really drive me crazy.

No segue...

A few nights ago MNS and Pants had a karaoke party and I was invited. Now, I've never sang karaoke before, ever and I told MNS that I probably wasn't going to start anytime soon. She and I are pretty much on the same wavelength when it comes to karaoke. But after watching her brave a few songs I figured I'd better step up. And step up I did. I quickly drank 3 beers, which gave me an extra boost of light headed confidence (particularly since I hadn't eaten since lunch), went to the front of the room and belted out Bjork's It's Oh So Quiet. Wow bam! Zing boom! I put energy into that fucker! When I sat down MNS just looked at me for a moment then said, "I've never seen this side of you. I've known you for so long and have never seen you like this." And that was just a precursor. Later I sang Don't Tell Mama with MNS's sister, Beta, complete with ass slaps and body caresses. Upon sitting down this time MNS leaned over and whispered in a surprised, slightly conspiratorial/complimentary tone, "You are such a fag. Really faggy." Who knew? Now you do.

And finally...

More disastrous combinations

semantics

A quote from my boss at the theater:

"I know you're not calling our members hookers."

Who knew she had such good hearing?

The ability to recognize negative behavior often has no correlation with correcting that behavior. At least that's how it often is with me. I can usually easily spot when I'm being whiny, pitiful or self-destructive but do I stop? Nosirree. Even when my behavior is so secretive that the only person that knows its happening (and hence the main person it hurts) is me. Petulance reigns supreme. Why can't I just enjoy aspects of life? Why do I crumble when my plans are disrupted? Why do I feel like I deserve this loneliness? Only my therapist (who doesn't exist) can tell.

In other news, I wish I could stay at the gym all day. I love it there (right now, I'm pretty fickle when it comes to things that make me happy so we'll see how long this lasts). I love spending hours and hours exercising and stretching. Yesterday I had to go open the studio at 6AM. I then did some cardio for about 35 minutes, watched some pilates training then had an hour of a sort of personal pilates/weight/cardio class where a teacher was trying to create a new routine so she tried it out on me. I felt so tired when I left but that evening I decided to skip the closest subway stop and walk the 20 blocks to the next express stop. Then I come to work at the theater and get down down down. Enclosed in a windowless cube, I arrive and immediately begin to gorge on sugar. Perhaps someday I'll be able to do something I love. Isn't that everyone's goal? Has anyone achieved it? No one I know, it seems.

When I arrived home around 11PM last night and opened the cupboard to put away some soy milk I had bought I noticed that my peanut butter was nearly gone. That's not how I left it. I immediately went to my room, grabbed a sheet of paper, left my passive-aggressive note on the stove and went to bed. Before I fell asleep I heard one of my roommates come home and when I got up this morning the note was gone. That's too bad, because it was for both of them. I also took my chips out of my room and put them back in the kitchen, you know, as a temptation. We'll see what happens.

I had only been at the pilates studio this morning for about 10 minutes before the cops showed up. Apparently the alarm had gone off. I thought something was weird with the alarm but since I was able to deactivate it and now it says "Ready" I figured everything was fine. Guess not. After telling me that I needed to contact the alarm company one officer said, in a condescending tone, "So what, this place is filled with girls and the other one is for guys?" (There's a gritty boxing studio right across the hallway.) I gave him a mixed skeptical/incredulous look and said, "No, men come here too. What do you think I am?" Which I immediately realized was not the right thing to say. I pretty much expected him to respond, "Not a man." It was definitely in their eyes, particularly the 2nd officer's. I should have said, "And there are plenty of women at the boxing studio too, all of whom could kick your ass."

not my mom

The Earth Day website didn't make me feeling like saving ol' mother earth. Instead it made me mad, because it tried to make me feel guilty. I took the footprint quiz and yes, I could buy more non-processed foods but really, I felt like I was pretty good in the grand sweep of America. But then when I finished it hit me with the guilt: If everyone lived like you, we would need 3 planets. I think that pretty much implies: If everyone lived like you, you fucking uncaring bastard, we would need 3 planets. I understand what they're saying and that it's interesting, it just comes across as acusatory and I don't think that's the best way to get someone on your side. At least not with me; guilt usually has the opposite effect. So in honor of Earth Day I'm going to go chop down a tree, use it to kill a cow, freeze the meat and ship it off as the only cargo of a 757 to California. Now how many planets do we need, huh?

it's probably true

Prompted by a recount of my morning, a quote from HL:

It's safe to say that if you're not at work, at BAM or at DTW then you're home masturbating.

I could say nearly the same for him.

future chips

The chip wars continue at my apartment. My roommates are most definitely eating my chips. I don't think they're eating anything else I buy (at least not consistently) but the chip snacking is driving me crazy. To make doubly sure that I wasn't placing false accusations (even though I heard Horsey open my chip bag and munch away) I carefully and specifically folded the last bag and placed binder clips on the sides. When I came home the bag was haphazardly folded and the clips were not in the same place. I refolded and replaced the clips and the same thing happened the next day. When I arrived home the apartment was empty. Perfect. Since I would be heading out soon this was my chance to employ my normal passive-aggressive tactics and avoid confrontation at the same time. I wrote up a quick note:

Please stop nibbling at my food. It is incredibly inconsiderate. If you would like something please ask me first.

I was all set to put it on the fridge when suddenly both! my roommates walked in the door. Damn damn damn. So instead I sulked in my room. I thought about putting a note directly on the chip bag:

Stop. Are these yours? Then don't eat them.

But that seemed a little too snotty. I should just talk to them. The next morning I screwed my courage to the sticking place and walked into the living room to kill my roommates and become King of Scotland! I mean, Washington Heights! But of course, I chickened out. I keep thinking that to complain about something I should be the model roommate in all other areas and I'm not. Yes yes, if a friend told me that I'd say they were crazy and should stand up for themselves. But instead I just kept my chips in my room that day. Maybe I'll deal with the problem the next time I buy chips. For now, if I ever feel like I'm not the model roommate I just remember the food nibbling and the fact that I have to wash any dish before I use it, because I can't count on the roomies to thoroughly wash anything.

And speaking of gun control and weapons and stuff (see NSP's blog), has anyone seen that show Future Weapons on the Discovery channel? It's fucking creepy. It might be the most unsettling thing on television. I've only watched about 5 minutes of it but it made me extremely uncomfortable. The show is all about new weapons research and how things are becoming faster, smaller and more accurate. Part of the episode I saw featured an interview with a pilot on an aircraft carrier. He was talking about some new plane he flies and proudly pointed out the bombs it carried and talked about how great they were. What kept going through my mind was that everything featured on the show was made specifically to kill people. None of the "toys" shown had any other use. I found their pride and joy unsettling.

art schmart fart fat

It turns out that my inspiration for art comes from unsatisfying sexual experiences. Is that really a surprise? Isn't that the origin of a lot of art?

Last night was one such experience. He was attractive enough (I mean, if someone other than myself were judging him, in my opinion he could've been more attractive) and it felt good but when we were done I realized that I'd much rather be sleeping with someone I'd actually want to talk to afterwards. Anyway, while lying on his chest, experiencing the emptiness of my soul, an idea for a performance piece began to formulate in my mind. Unfortunately I can't remember much of it now but I think I've found a way to tap my creativity. This is the second time that's happened. The first time was with a different man and that experience spurned the creation of my meat cleaver piece. Coincidence or source material? You decide.

My dad and his wife were in town this weekend. Here're two new things that happened:

1. Peeing while Dad was just one urinal over...and talking to me
2. Dad's Wife pointing out men who're checking me out

And two new things I discovered:

1. Dad and Dad's Wife both take off their shoes at the theater.
2. Dad's Wife sucks mints while watching performances.

Though I have nothing against taking off your shoes, I do it too, discreetly, in other respects Dad & Dad's Wife were quickly becoming bad theater goers. Mostly it was the mints. And that she asked my dad, during the play, if he wanted one. I'll at least acknowledge that she did try to take them out of her purse as quietly as possible but still, it was a metal box with a bunch of rattling small orbs inside, those are hard to keep quiet.

We had an art filled week. On Thursday we went to the Met, which was great. After living here for nearly 3 years I'd still never been. Pathetic. I saw a self-portrait of Pablo Picasso that made me fall in love with him. Now if he were my boyfriend I'd really have some inspirational sex. We then went to the Museum of Arts & Design to see an exhibit on subversive knitting. (Thanks for the tip, MNS.) That was also awesome. One piece was a huge knitting project captured on film involving telephone poles and tractors. I could tell my dad liked that one. And then we went to see Journey's End. They liked it well enough. Their main comment, "Wow. That's certainly better than the college productions we usually see at BYU (Brigham Young University)." Good enough for me.

On Friday we went to a small movie house to watch an artsy French film, Private Fears in Public Places. We all found that to be a disappointment, not bad exactly, just not that good. Later we went to MoMA, where I rediscovered the joy of David Smith. Then we had to rush out to BAM for a performance of The Magic Flute, also a disappointment. I was so excited to take them to BAM, it feels like such a New York thing to me but the opera really was bad. The singers, professional opera singers from Belgium's national company I'm pretty sure, couldn't even fill the house with their voices. We could barely hear them. And I'm pretty sure the woman playing the Queen of the Night might have been a bird in disguise. She literally squawked out those notes.

On Saturday I had to work so Dad & Dad's Wife went to the Bodies exhibit, which they said was "good." When pressed for more they added "fine." Then that night we saw The Lion King. No, I didn't ever cry, neither did they as far as I could tell. But here's what I have to say: Julie Taymor is awesome, that grass was fucking brilliant but the basic story and many of the songs of this show are godawful boring. And tourists are weird. And fascinating up close.

And that's how it went down. Next time we're going to more experimental theater. At least they'll be expecting that to be bad.

If you had purchased tickets this morning to the theater where I work, here's part of an email you might have received:

Dear Patron:

Your Such&Such ticket order has been processed and mailed to you on (insert full date).

Please remember that there are no refunds or exchanges for any performance.

Sincerely,

What am I, a bumbling 16 year old intern? I fixed the email and sent it out again. Idiotic.

have I told you lately that I love you?

There's a reason why.

I didn't have any food in my apartment this morning for breakfast (unless I wanted to make macaroni & cheese and prune juice, which I didn't) so I headed out early to stop by Whole Foods on my way to work. I spend my time on the train fantasizing about the delicious assortment of foodstuffs I could potentially buy. These fantasies mostly centered around baked goods, scones, bagels, whathaveyou. But when I arrived and looked at the selection I remember that the Columbus Circle Whole Foods has shit ass baked goods. Everything is always too dry and overcooked, thick and hard. I was immensely disappointed. I ended up buying a champagne mango (I'd never seen one before) and some kefir. That's my breakfast and lunch. Washed down with mini peanut butter cups and some tears.

I was on the phone with a local book store and had the urge to go crazy. A specific kind of crazy. I wanted to be that person who sincerely believed he was always in the right even when making things up that never happened. I think it's called self-delusion and it's very appealing.

When I woke up this morning I decided that my task for today was would was would

I've changed my mind. My task for today is to work on my grammar.

I decided my task for today would be to make a list of what I love and what I hate about my life. Does anyone see where this is going? While I was "making" breakfast I began the list in my head but after about a minute I realized it was just going to make me unhappy. My list of pros took about 15 seconds to flesh out but my list of cons seemed unending. I had to stop. I had already been pretty upset and despondent over the role of art in my life and, more specifically, the role of my life in art. I couldn't see my life changing in any way to allow myself to become the artist I want to be. It's scary and deeply depressing. I think part of the problem is that I like to take safe "risks." I can't talk about that anymore, at least not in the blogging forum.

So here's the thing that I'm excited about and alluded to earlier. I'm going to be in a pilates machine certification course. And I don't have to pay! That's really the best part. I'm at the pilates studio right now typing this. The owner prefer to call it a fitness lab. It's not a gym (I agree) but it's more than a pilates studio so: fitness lab. That's just hard for me to say. In return for free certification I owe them 300 hours of my life, starting last Sunday. I'll be "working" here until about next December. I'm working the front desk and let me tell you, I work it, baby. Meaning I bull shit prospective clients hoping they won't discover that I don't know what I'm talking about. I really don't. I've never attending any of the classes here, nor met any of the personal trainers. The thing I'm best at is talking about pilates because even though I haven't seen anyone in action I know enough about the body in relation to pilates to sound pretty convincing. The actual classes for the certification haven't started yet, first one's this Tuesday. I'll let you know how it goes. But for now I'm enjoying myself. Sitting alone in a sunny large studio reading and listening to whatever music I want. Sounds great huh?

zen

If you spill orange colored soup on an orange colored shirt, will it leave a stain?

Ponder that question and find inner peace.

P.S. The answer is yes.

in the beginning

I've started a new project.

Here's a closer shot.

Doesn't it look complicated? And annoying? Well, it isn't one of those but is the other. It may not seem like much now but pretty soon it'll be a beautiful, though scratchy, something. And I didn't spend money on new yarn! Hence the scratchiness. I'm using yarn I bought over 11 years ago when I lived in France. That's where I learned how to knit. My first project was a sweater (a little ambitious) and I bought too much yarn by about 7 skeins*. Those skeins have since been living in my various closets. I don't remember the yarn being so scruffy when I bought it but it certainly is now. Maybe I can soften it up somehow.

During lunch today I bought yet another bag of mini eggs. HL at first made fun of my obsession but after eating about 20 he's coming around. They are so good. My little eggies. My little chocolate abortions. Tasty.

*skein: a loosely coiled length of yarn or thread wound on a reel

bland-o-rama

Something happened today that could potentially be good. I don't want to talk about it too much in case it doesn't work out. But I'm pretty excited. Of course, the last time I was this excited about this type of thing I turned out to be pretty miserable by the end.

Today I planned on making some gloves out of yarn that I bought in France when I was 16 but, when I finally found a pattern (I have no idea how to make gloves) I discovered that I brought the wrong needles to work. So now that's my task for Monday. I wonder if there's a way to soften this yarn. I remember it being softer when I first bought it but it's been 11 years, sitting in various closets the whole time. Now it's pretty scratchy. I don't care. I need some gloves. Nothing too fancy, this'll be another practice project. Later on they'll get more stylin'.

I have a strike to work tomorrow and I'm not going to let it get me down. I signed up for it with gusto over a month ago but now I'm regretting it. Whatever, I need the money.

In closing, would you like to read an interview that provides insight into the state of dance and its intelligent, thougtful artists? Click here. I know you want to...and some of you have to [Erin]. (This is not the same artist I was complaining about before.)

past pride

For my post today I present

My First Fair Isle Project

It's knitting with two colors at the same time! Isn't it something? Or other? It didn't fit anyone. It was too slim and too tall. A little like me. I used some yarn I had purchased for a different project to practice this technique so I could later make a similar hat for Bannie, which I did. At that one was a little too big. So much for my practicing. Later, I unraveled this hat and remade it with a new pattern to (almost) fit my sister's head. Of course, as soon as I put it in the mail I remembered that I'd wanted to take a picture of it. Hopefully she'll soon send me a picture of her wearing it that I can post.

all about crafts

It turns out that the knitting book for men I just bought isn't so great. I was just looking it over and nowhere does the author list a table for the abbreviations he uses. I think they're probably hidden throughout the book when he describes different techniques but when, right on page 30, he already introduces the first knitting pattern and uses terms like "Sl 1 pwise wyif" I don't know how he expects his readers to follow along. When I glance at that I like to read it as "knit 1 purlwise what the fuck!" Luckily I know enough to accurately decipher that mess but what's an inexperienced knitter to do. Good thing I mostly just bought it for the patterns anyway.

Speaking of which, I need to start a knitting project soon! I'm going crazy at work. Today was incredibly slow and though I'm enjoying the Amy Tan book I'm reading I can only read it for so long. I need to alternate my activities during the day and I've come to depend on knitting. What to do? I can't really afford to go buy yarn right now. I guess I could take time to read more about types of yarn and how to read yarn labels but I hate that stuff. Plus it's hard to read about knitting without actually doing anything. And frustrating.

I picked up my coat from the dry cleaners this morning and put it on right before I left for work. I had brought in a couple of buttons that had come off and asked them to be sewn back on after the coat was cleaned. This was done but the buttons were sewn in the wrong place. But they were almost right! Instead of three buttons matching the three button holes, I had two buttons matching the lower two holes and then one extra button below those two matching nothing. I was so annoyed. Why in the hell would someone sew them that way? Clearly I wanted the buttons sewn on so I could, um, button them, right? I didn't have enough time to take the coat back to the cleaners but I'll probably do it tomorrow. I was going to just buy some needle and thread during lunch today and do it myself but I don't want to do it myself, that's why I paid someone else. And they should do it right. I might have to give up going there. This will delight HL, who thinks the main woman at the counter is crazy; I think she's just really really nice.

who the hell cares?

I saw The Pirate Queen last night (for free, that's important). A new(?) musical written by the creators of the musical version of Les Miserables. But before I saw The Pirate Queen I was a bad friend. I completely forgot about a previous engagement and felt awful about it, for several reasons. All I can say about that is that the next one will be better and I'll stay for more than 15 minutes. I'm very sorry MNS and Miss M. I'll make it up to you somehow.

Since I was attending the final dress of The Pirate Queen the audience was filled with people from "the industry." A lot of people who were connected with the show in some way or with other Broadway shows. So mostly a lot of young people who were really into musicals, really into themselves and really into each other. It was awkward and fascinating at the same time. Sadly, I had no one with which to share this experience so most of the night I made snide comments to myself, I'm my own best friend! We're so good together. What a bore that show was. It wasn't quite bad, nothing made me particularly angry, it was just incredibly boring. The songs were all over the place, nothing memorable at all, the set was unimpressive, the choreography subpar, an all around snooze. At intermission I took my bag with me to the bathroom; I didn't trust any of the musical buffs around me to watch my stuff, they had such shifty eyes. Then when I left the bathroom I thought it would be just as easy to walk out the door as walk back to my seat. So I left. No second act. I don't think I missed much.

theatre theater

Last week was another week of theater for me. As I already said I saw Meredith Monk (+) and William Forsythe (-). Then yesterday I saw Spalding Gray: Stories Left to Tell (+) and An Evening with Philippe Decoufle (+)*, who's a French choreographer and director. The company I work for was given free tickets to Spalding Gray, or else I probably wouldn't have gone. And that would have been okay. The show consisted of four actors, two men and two women, retelling a compilation of Gray's stories. When one actor would begin to speak, I would think, "Hmm, you're my least favorite" only to have that title given to the very next actor who spoke. So most of the performance I tried to figure out who I liked least. I didn't hate any of them but I didn't particularly like them either. This was quite the breasty show too, where the women were concerned. For some reason their breasts were pushed up and in like nobody's business. It was pretty distracting. What carried this show was Spalding Gray's superb writing. At the end of the show one of the women was retelling a story about a time Gray danced around with his family to a Chumbawamba song. At the end, that song began playing while a video of Spalding Gray telling the same story (sans sound) was played on the back wall. It brought a tear to my eye. A few tears. It was such a great, sweet story and the video brought home that he was really gone. I'm not usually one to remember specifics concerning other's lives but I remember what I was doing when I heard Spalding Gray's body was found.

Later Sunday evening I saw a bunch of videos choreographed/directed by Philippe Decoufle. I first saw his work when I was in college and the ad in Time Out had a still of the video I had seen. I recognized it and bought a ticket and I'm glad I did. He's a pretty clever guy. Some of his work was a little dull but mostly only when he fell dance conventions, for the most part he's inventive and original and fun and strange. Here's the video I first saw in college. I think it's a more accessible example of his work. Yes, yes, I know you don't want to watch a video on someone's blog, but it's fun. I promise.


And here's a probably less accessible one, but I still love it.


I like his work enough to actually consider seeing his solo show playing at The Joyce. The Joyce! Crunchy bone central. Where old women go to see non-offensive traditional but billed as avant-garde dance. I think they'll be in for a surprise with this show. That's probably why it's not selling that well.

*Not all (+)s are equal.

I've been spending money on a whim lately. It needs to stop. Or maybe it doesn't. A few days ago I bought a book by Michael Dorris and one by Salman Rushdie. Then I bought The Road, the book Meredith Monk mentioned, a CD of her music and another book that I haven't read for about 7 years but remember loving, so I hope I still do. And today I bought a book on knitting for men. I didn't even take much time to read it. But I saw a few patterns I liked and techniques I hadn't done before so I grabbed it. Granted I've been spending most of my money on books but still. I didn't buy any ice cream when I got home today. That took some effort.

I'm coming for you!

Watch your back. Look under your bed. My evil lizard and I are prowling the streets and if we find you, you'd better believe we're gonna make you watch some creepy performance art! Mwaa ha ha!

Seriously though, I wish I could make myself look this way in real life, I'd use it all the time.

Or maybe like this

But still be able to go back to my normal, narcissistic, beautiful self.

MNS and I went to BAM last night to see Three Atmospheric Studies, choreographed by William Forsythe. I don't know why I ever go to theater without bringing a notebook and pencil. Do they expect me to just sit and watch the performance? I can't do that. I find I get some great thinking done at bland performances, but I have to be able to write my thoughts down. I thought more about the muumuu piece, a scene involving a rolling pin and lipstick and a lot of repetition. What will become of that thought? Who knows. The best thing I can say about last night was that I got to spend time with MNS. The second best thing I can say is that I had long train ride home and got to spend lots of time reading a book I just bought. There was a part of the performance where a woman was kind of going crazy and getting all disjointed, that was kind of interesting. And that's all I have to say about that.

Pictures taken by HL on his brand new gorgeous Mac that he wouldn't leave me alone in his room with because he knew I'd just get naked.

get your fleas outta my chips

Last night I was up late in my room with my door open, doing whatever it is I do at 1:30 in the morning, when I heard my roommate walk out of her room and into the kitchen. I didn't have any music playing so it was fairly quiet but then what did I hear but a plastic bag ruffle and then some crunching noises. Horsey was eating my goddamn chips. I always suspected she did that (and maybe ate other food of mine too) but I never had any proof. I would open up a bag of chips and notice that the level might have gone done but I wasn't positive so I never said anything. I nonchalantly walked into the kitchen last night and when I was about 10 feet away the floor creaked. I heard a slight ruffle and then saw Horsey's shadow jump towards the sink, which she turned on right when I walked in. I was too tired to say anything last night but the next time I see her I will. I actually resent having to say anything at all. It should be a common courtesy not to eat your roommate's food without their permission. Of course, it also might be a common courtesy to close the frickin' front door but that doesn't happen either. I don't know why I keep expected "so" much. I will admit that I've used a few of her eggs before but I would immediately buy more the next day to replace them. I wouldn't mind if she did that, but she never does.

But I'm not going to let that get me down. YorN and I went to a concert last night featuring Bang On A Can and Meredith Monk. It was so good. I couldn't help but smile during the entire evening. When it ended we were both extremely happy and it felt wonderful. It was like Meredith Monk had given us a present in the form of her music. She's now on my short list of artists that I will always see if they're nearby. Watching her was amazing. She clearly loves what she's doing and is good at it. Her energy was infectious. When explaining the idea behind one of her pieces she mentioned that she had just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy and that she was really into it and it inspired her. Right after the concert YorN and I went straight to Barn*s & Nobl* to buy that book. That's how much we liked her music. But they didn't have it. I'll be buying it soon though, along with more of her music.

I also noticed that a certain choreographer that I recently complained about on this blog received a full page write up in Time Out New York. Ugh. But I don't care. Good art still exists. Last night was proof of that.

another wish

This morning, pursuant of our conversation concerning living locations and long train rides, HL suggested I spend my time knitting on the subway. I looked at him and said, "I'm not that brave. I might as well just have some guy fucking me from behind while I'm at it. Oh wait, that would really kind of be my ideal date: knitting while getting fucked. I'd just need to throw on some anime and things'd be perfect."

Now how well do you know me?

without even trying

I didn't even notice that I posted an entry about how I'm allergic to eggs and then immediately following that an entry about how I love mini-eggs. HL had to point that out. What's wrong with me?

To pay tribute to MNS and beta (i.e. steal from) I was going to create one of those online quizzes but 10 questions is too many. So here are a few I've come up with so far. In an actual tribute those girls (particularly MNS) my answers are sneaky and based on what I'm feeling right this moment. Here goes:

1. I most often wish I were:
A) successful
B) a robot
C) a few inches shorter
D) more muscular
E) a slut

2. I most sincerely wish I were:
A) successful
B) a robot
C) a few inches shorter
D) more muscular
E) a Japanese woman

3. In my bag you will almost always find:
A) tweezers
B) a book (fiction)
C) my checkbook (non-fiction)
D) flushable towelettes

4. The item I value most in my bag is:
A) the tweezers
B) the book
C) the checkbook
D) the flushable towelettes

5. I spend this amount of time staring at myself in the mirror (cumulatively) each day:
A) 5 minutes (enough time to do my hair)
B) 10 minutes (hair's not quite right)
C) 15 minutes (I'm beautiful)
D) 20 minutes (how can I make my eyes more soulful?)

That's it. How well do you know me?

why oh why?

Jesus Christ. I just got an email from a dance space here about a new work coming up soon. It's by a certain choreographer whose work I can't stand. Granted I've only seen one of his pieces but I so vehemently hated it that I can't even think about seeing something of his again. I can't stress enough how unpleasant an evening that was. Here's a blurb from the email about the new piece, undoubtedly written by the choreographer himself. The piece is called Everyone.

Everyone is about the world right now and right now and right now. Nothing is interesting. Everything is interesting. This is a huge failure. Nothing works. Nothing is going anywhere. There is nowhere to go. Everything is perfect. Everything is a perfect mess. I know now. I know who this is for. This is for us. This is for me. This is for everyone.

Don't you want to go? Doesn't it sound like a lot of thought was put into this piece? Doesn't that make you think it won't be a complete waste of time?

"This is a huge failure." Thanks for the warning. How considerate.

Even if I didn't already have opinions about this choreographer I still wouldn't be interested in this show. This blurb encapsulates much that I dislike about "progressive" contemporary dance. There's this kind of blase attitude infecting the dance scene where shows no longer have to have any sort of entertainment value but can merely exist as the creators' exploration of themselves. Cohesive themes? Who needs 'em! I'm certainly not saying that all theater must only be entertainment, that usually ends up being awful. But the beauty of art is that it can be entertaining and educational, often in unexpected and unique ways.

lactoserific

I wanted bagels and cream cheese for lunch but since I also wanted a few other items I didn't go to a bakery, I went to a grocery store. When I arrived at 3:30PM the bagel selection was slim and poor, just a few flat unappetizing pieces of bread, but I had already made up my mind. To balance the fact that I was buying crappy bagels I also bought a crappy custard doughnut. Makes sense, right? On a whim I decided to treat myself and also bought some brie and wheat crackers. Now back at the office I just ate one bagel slathered with cream cheese, the doughnut and am about to dig into the brie. It's a very cheesy lunch. One that I at first thought would be healthyish but is quickly turning out to be stomach churning. I bought some V8 too, they say that counts as like, 3 servings of vegetables. Salty, salty vegetables.

I don't know why I have the tendency to avoid people, even people I like. I was walking over to the office building a few days ago and right before I got to the door I noticed a coworker about 15 feet away. I actually like this guy, he's nice and I enjoy talking to him but instead of waiting to say hello I put on a concerned face and walked into the building. We hadn't made eye contact so I wasn't being pointedly rude but as I was being stupid. I think I sometimes inadvertently revert to my junior high days where I made a point of seeming intensely occupied with my thoughts thereby discouraging any conversation. When I do that now though, I'm usually just daydreaming about winning the lottery.

my true love

Really. I love them. I would marry them if I could and then we'd have delicious chocolate babies. And I would eat them. My own children. That's how much I love these things. Even though I ate an entire pint of mint chip ice cream last night I couldn't resist buying of pack of chocolate goodness. My diet is really falling apart. I'll totally exercise tonight though.

I've discovered a problem with gay dating, one that I'm sure I've thought about before, but I have I ever blogged about it? Non-separate public restrooms. Yesterday Also-I (that's how I'm going to refer to him from now on after dropping his other, more offensive title) and I went to a movie. After it finished I needed to use the bathroom and as I walked toward it I noticed he was doing the same...and we walked in together...and stood at adjoining urinals. Normally that wouldn't bother me except for this time I really had to fart. And it's hard to release one set of muscles and constrict another. The solution may have been to go into a stall but the bathroom was quite small, one stall, two urinals and we were the only ones in it so I still would have been the obvious loud culprit. I ended up pretty much just pretending to pee then washing my hands. We soon parted ways at the subway and when I got home I ran to the bathroom.

I've also discovered that I almost always spell "separate" and "negative" wrong.

addendum: I did exercise. I did eat the entire bag.

I think I'm slightly allergic to eggs. At brunch today I decided to order an omelette even though I've always said I don't like eggs. I haven't had an omelette in a long time, years and years, so I thought that perhaps aversion to eggs might have changed. Nope. The first bite was okay, it was still edible but by the time I was half way through I was disgusted. I couldn't eat any more at all. I hated the texture and the taste. A few hours later my stomach started to hurt quite a bit. So I think I can't take large quantities of eggs. I'm probably still okay if I get them in smaller doses, like in cookies, brownies and ice cream. I'm sure that's fine.

Sometimes I feel like my emotional and psychological being is stuck at, let's say age 12. Little things can set me in a funk from which I have to fiercely fight my way out. Battles I consistently lose. Some events can be easily predicted and I do my best to stay away from those. But then I being the constant dilemma of am I reinforcing my behavior by not subjecting myself to those types of situations or is it that I really just don't like those situations? I don't know. Then there are unexpected happenings that seem to shoot straight into me, find that switch marked "depression" and flip it.

On the train today I was thinking about how I often use the words "just, like, really" and other vague modifiers. My father criticizes my speech and writing for this and tells me to be specific but the problem is that I can't. I can't be specific. I don't know what I'm trying to say and even when I do I don't know how to say it. So I need my qualifiers to leave things slightly more opened ended. I can't make a direct statement. They scare me. There's always something I don't know.

repress

I woke up this morning on my right side with my shoulders scrunched up and my head tilted way back to the right with my pillow smashed underneath. I think I have some anger issues that are manifesting themselves in my sleep. It could be that or just that my life completely lacks direction. That doesn't seem to lend itself to happy sleepy time either. My boss thinks it's because I'm too tall and don't quite fit on my bed but I think it's more complicated than that. Maybe it's time to actualize my goal of sleeping on my back. The only times I've been able to sleep on my back are when I've been extraordinarily tired and on the floor. My plan is to get really tired then lie in my bed on my back for progressively longer periods of time before I allow myself to flip to my side. I know the phrasing of that sentence is questionable but I need to go to the bathroom and can't think clearly when my bladder is full. And my teeth hurt and feel cold (when I have to go to the bathroom), which I've already mentioned though no one else appears to have this peculiar problem.

take that

A few months ago HL and I were talking and he said something slightly derogatory towards me (in a funny way, that's our relationship, that's my relationship with most people) and I almost spit my gum at him in response. I asked what he would have done if I had spit my gum on him and he said he'd have thought it was funny. What? This was a new side I had never seen. So I decided that I got one free spit out my gum to use in the future whenever I felt the occasion warranted it.

On Tuesday HL and I were waiting in the subway for the A train to take us home. He once again said something slightly insulting. I looked at him and pteuwie! Out shot my gum. The problem was that I had only just put the gum in my mouth a few seconds before so it wasn't chewed very much and the fresh piece was making my salivary glands work overtime so what ended up coming out wasn't a well aimed compact wad but a flat chunk surrounding by spit. It flung itself onto the sleeve of his coat then dropped to the ground. A woman walking by stared at us in disgust. And that was my one chance to do something funny with my gum. It worked out in a predictable ipj way, but not how I'd intended.

insensitive

During our morning meeting today I kept glancing at my boss' head. Boy, I guess she didn't really have time to wash her hair this morning, there are a few greasy strands kind of stuck to her scalp. What was she doing last night? Oh wait, no, she just has a little smudge. How strange, she's usually pretty immaculate. As I begin to open my mouth to inform her (I can't have her walking around all day not knowing she has dirt on her head, did she walk into a subway bar?) I realize that the smudge is actually closer to the center of her forehead and seems to have a particular shape. Ash Wednesday. And instead of saying anything I started laughing. Unfortunately, the whole time I was laughing I was still staring at her forehead. I hope she didn't notice, I don't think I was too overt but she is savvy.

My eyes popped open this morning at 4AM and I immediately knew that I was sick. I often wake up in the middle of the night, usually several times but normally it's a sort of groggy, moaning waking up, not an eyes wide open kind. Also, I had kicked off all my blankets and still felt a little warm. Now I know New York weather has improved since a few days ago but it's still cold and it certainly wasn't warm enough in my room to warrant no covers at all. So I pulled my blankets back on, huddled into a ball and smushed my head farther (further?) into my pillow. And now I'm sick at work though not feeling near as awful as many people I know. I'm grateful for that. There is one part I like about being sick though. It's never felt so good to close my eyes.

pants o' the mornin'

I had a good test for my new jeans this morning: I was bloated. Like crazy, y'all. I had a smoothie for breakfast with soy milk, bananas, blueberries and peanut butter but I've had that before and nothing's happened so I don't know what set it off today. Maybe I just had too much. It was out of control though. My jeans held up well, they still felt comfortable. Of course, I'm wearing the pair I bought specifically because they were more comfortable and less snazzy. The other pairs I bought are tighter and might not have fared as well. This was definitely a concern of mine when I bought them. I pretty much can't gain any weight in the stomach area, or in my legs, or my butt. And yet if my butt ever gets so hard and perky to actually do any damage to my jeans my happiness over my new perfect ass will totally overshadow any anger I might feel. If it just gets fat that's another story.

Last night it took me until 11:00PM to convince myself to go buy some dinner. If I had just gone around 9 when I first thought of it I would have been fine but I didn't really want to get dressed to go outside again and would much rather have just continued playing video games. But I finally did and it was a bad idea. I may have also smoked a little, which was also a bad idea as I had already been coughing up phlegm for most of the day. And I returned to an old friend, brownie mix. Some of the mix had gotten hard and stuck together into little hard pebblies. What a disappointing experience.

I need to remember to look for books on trauma at the library today. MNS suggested I get a degree in performance art with an emphasis in trauma studies and while I think that's an awesome idea I'm not quite ready to commit to a degree. So instead I'll do my own research and see where that takes me. The thought of it has already given me some images to work with. Like a woman in a big comfy chair wearing a muumuu talking about her past and present. Don't traumatic events make you want to wear a muumuu?

Here's what one patron wrote on her order form she faxed in to the theater the other day:

Question: What years were the kids with whom you will be attending born?
Answer: None yet!

I thought that was pretty funny.

Damn it. I just noticed that I've already spilled soup on my new pants. I'm certainly not surprised, just very very annoyed.

It just stays the same. My priorities are skewed and I have no direction. I keep using the word "just." I have nothing to report. Last night went better than I thought it would. I actually had a good time mostly. I need to go get some food. It may or may not happen.

Okay, granted I did first see this around midnight so I might have been a little tired but I still think it's pretty hi-larious.


I may or may not be going on a date tonight. I mean, I will mostly likely probably be going, I'm just not sure if it's a date or not. I haven't been on a date since I moved to New York. I was going to say it's not from a lack of trying but really, that's exactly the reason. This did give me a reason to pluck my eyebrows; I've been lax in their upkeep lately. I'd rather have had them threaded but that would have cost money and I don't know this person well enough for that. Also, I'm lazy.

thank god

I bought some pants! YorN graciously went clothes shopping with me today, a task that we both abhor so I'm very appreciative that she kept me company. She was really helpful too, going to search for different sizes and colors. And kept telling me my butt looked hott. Whether it actually did or not is irrelevant. What a good friend. I ended up spending too much money on three pairs that are basically the same jeans, with slight variances between them. We then trodded over to Urb*n Outf*tters, a store I dislike on principle, which we almost didn't go to but then I caved. It was incredibly crowded, no surprise. I picked up a few more pants to try on and, on a whim, a jacket that mildly reminded me of one my father used to wear to church. I didn't think it would fit at all but I'm trying to broaden my shopping to include trying on items I have no intention of purchasing. None of the pants fit, they were all to small and too short, the very things that have made me hate shopping over the years, but then I tried on the jacket. It wasn't quite as slim in the waist as I would have liked but otherwise I thought it looked good, really good. Uh oh. I bought it. Why not spend more money that I don't have?

YorN and I had a quick lunch before the shopping spree in which we had an interesting discussion on the meaning of being masculine, feminine, transgendered, transexual, queer and a whole slew of other related terms. We found that we had a hard time discussing any of those terms without making sweeping generalizations and relying on stereotypes.

oh my god

It's finally happened. I knew it would, I just kept hoping that it wouldn't. I was sitting at work and felt, well, for some reason I suddenly needed to feel my butt and there it was: a hole. And since I wore a thong today I brushed my finger right against my ass. I knew the ass of my jeans would give out sometime, all I do is sit around. I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror and it's definitely noticeable. Luckily my sweatshirt is long enough to cover my ass, literally and figuratively. There was a question in my mind whether or not I'd be going out tonight but now I think it's been answered.

I may not have love

Happy Discount Valentine's Day Candy Day! HL and I went to Duane Reade during our lunch break and it took all my willpower not to fill my arms with 50% off boxes of chocolate. I only bought one small one for my office and only ate slightly over 1/3 of it. Good thing I didn't buy any ice cream last night.

Miss M had asked me to be her valentine, which I felt was quite the honor. That's her name for this blog from now on. We had planned on dinner and a movie but the selection of films was disappointing. Between the two of us we had either already seen most of them or were not at all interested in ever seeing them (Factory Girl). We casually agreed on a 9:30 show and went to find a restaurant. We walked for a while and finally entered an Indian place. The owner (I think he was the owner anyway) approached us and asked to wait a moment. He never said why exactly. We watched as he and his staff prepared a table (we assumed for us) and in the meantime we were approached 2 or 3 more times by staff members asking if we had been helped. When the table was ready we were given a choice to sit at it or at some other tables in the back. We thought it slightly odd that we weren't just immediately seated at the other already prepared tables but then maybe they were also fixing those tables at the same time, I don't know. I'm usually not a fan of Valentine's Day and can get pretty downcast but the couples around us helped to lift my mood. They perfectly demonstrated that just being in a relationship certainly doesn't guarantee happiness. To one side was the bitchy demanding couple and to the other was the bland "do they even like each other?" couple. All Miss M and I wanted to do was talk about them but of course, they were less than a foot away. I said we should try to disguise our conversation in metaphor.

My head is spinning. I've eaten way too much sugar. Is this what love feels like?

Ah crap. He ended up emailing me back this morning. And he was once again funny. And furthered the inane Netflix babble that I started. Now I have to be "on." But I have to wait to write him back. He waited 4 days; I don't want to seem desperate; he doesn't need to see that side of me.

repeatedly

I've done it again. I've been emailing, pretty frequently, with a guy on friend*ster, also with the name i. Things seemed to be going well, he was funny, I was funny (I think). Then he suggested a meeting. Apparently that's where I screwed up because his emails have stopped. It could be because I let my true feelings about his suggestion be known and I didn't offer an alternate suggestion or it could be that, as MNS pointed out, "you're making yourself sound crazier than you really are." That's what happened last time I spoke with someone online. It's kind of a relief. I know I bemoan the fact that I'm alone but I also don't want to do any of the work required in a beginning relationship. I basically want to date someone I can assimilate into my already set life. Of course, what's the fun in that? None, and that's the point. I'm not looking for fun.

This morning when I got up there was a note left for me on the kitchen counter. It was written by my roommate Horsey and let me know that the pipes in our kitchen sink are leaking (again) and could I knock on the super's door and take care of it because she's going to be gone all day every day. Apparently our sink has been leaking for about 3-4 days. I looked under the sink and sure enough, there was a bucket with water in it. Did either of my roommates tell me this? Nope. My other roommate left this morning to go to Florida for about 3 days. I really kind of feel that since he takes up the most space (in the fridge, freezer, cupboards, bathroom or any other room he's in), has lived there for 10 years and I'm really just renting a room, it should be his responsibility to take care of things like this. Plus, last time when our kitchen sink pipe actually broke I was the one the super yelled at for filling it with food. So I turned the note over and wrote that I had woken up late and just saw the note as I was heading out the door, Horsey will have to talk to the super when she gets home. At least I'm consistently passive-aggressive but not enough to push me into that crazy roommate category (I hope). Although I am prepared to go to a movie tonight specifically to get home after Horsey.

realizations

2 crumpets
1 glass half orange juice, half vanilla soy milk
1 cup hot chocolate
1 beer

When I was in high school, maybe junior high, I read a short story (you probably did too) about a totalitarian society where the government forced everyone to be equal. This entailed giving everyone a handicap particular to their strengths. The two characters I most remember were the father and son. The father was considered too smart and thus regularly had electrical shocks administered to his brain, to lessen his awareness. The son was too athletic and strong and had sandbags attached to his body. I was thinking about this story yesterday. I was thinking about how maybe we create our own hinderances. More accurately, about how I create my own hinderances so that I don't reach my full potential. And how amazing I could really be if I did utulize that potential. But then I understood that part of the reason I create these problems is so that I don't have to ever discover that that potential doesn't exist in the first place. It's much easier to believe that you could be great rather than truly discover that you actually don't have the talent for it.

lil' whiny

My nose won't stop running but I'm not sick. I don't have any tissues, just rough toilet paper. My room is a mess. I don't want to go outside. I have a two hour break today in which to do nothing because I don't want to do anything and I still don't know what I'm going to eat.

cleanliness is next to

HL and ipj are watching Grey's Anatomy. One character, overcome with happiness, leans down and kisses a patient who has just successfully come from a long and intense surgery session.

ipj: Ew. I bet his breath is terrible. He's been unconscious in surgery for hours.
HL stares at ipj incredulously.
HL: Sometimes people's emotions transcend personal hygiene! You probably would've made him brush his teeth before you kissed.
beat
ipj (thoughtfully): Yeah.

frickin' frick

It's cold in my apartment. I woke up this morning as a blanketly bundled ball of ipj. I kept rolling in my bed trying to get my blankets wrapped tighter around me but that didn't help. I didn't have much to look foward to either. I figured that if the heat wasn't working then the hot water probably wasn't working too. Yep. Once again, no hot water in my apartment. No shower this morning. I left for work half an hour early because I was just sitting on my couch with my coat on. At work I could at least be in my t-shirt and get some knitting done.

I'm still mad at my roommates. I'm doing my best to let it go. The garbage smelled rank the other day and no one took it out all day long. I finally did when I got home after 9:30PM. I'm pretty sure one of my roommates had been home all day too. And really, it smelled down the hallway. Stanky. And it sure wasn't something I threw away.

Here's a call I got at work the other day.

ring ring
ipj: NVT. How can I help you?
female caller: Can I ask who I'm speaking with?
ipj: My name is i.
female caller: You have a sexy voice.
ipj: Excuse me?
female caller: You have a sexy voice.

And then it went from there.

I've taken a short tech job this week. After the first day I realized why I had decided that I didn't want to do any more tech stuff. I don't like working for people who create art that I don't respect. This piece includes a lot of eggshells selectively placed around the stage forming a circle. It's ridiculous. I watched the last 10 minutes of the piece and wanted to scream. And just today I saw that the choreographer has a full page write up in Time Out, right at the first page of the dance section. Shows how much I know.

more angry knitting

This is my new favorite store. And this is my new favorite person who works at said store. I went there today during my lunch break to buy some yarn for a hat I want to make a friend of mine. She was so helpful and nice and it was a wonderful experience. I'll definitely be going back there. I also spent a bunch of money that I don't really have since I went to the dentist this morning and had two (two!) crowns put on my teeth. Those fuckers are expensive. I was hoping to set aside some money each month to later use towards getting certified in pilates but it looks like that'll have to wait, again.

I've been really angry lately. I think it's a combination of the weather, my roommates and my natural disposition towards anger. I've been pulling away from my friends and into myself. I'm sorry. It'll pass, probably. I will try to call you. I just feel like this cold weather has put me in a daze. It's hard to want to go anywhere or do anything. That's funny, that's how I remember feeling in the summer when it's ridiculously hot outside. I guess I'm only mostly functional during fall and spring though those seasons have their problems too. See? I just put my angry pants right back on.

It's been one of those days. And it's not even over yet. I did nothing today. Really. The most I can say is I took a shower, which I guess it some sort of an accomplishment since I could have just wallowed in my own filth instead. It's one of the days where little things are freaking me out. I got all jittery earlier at the thought of going to a tech gig I have tonight. I still can't think about it too much. It's probably going to be really easy and no big deal and yet I just can't calm down. I hate these times. This is why I need structure in my life. And I do have some structure and it does help, I'd just rather have some structure that I can actually appreciate.

blather blather