'Tis the morning before my 27th Birthday, and all I have to say,
is that Im ready to go to NYC and celebrate in a big way.
I was going to write a post, 101 things about me,
but that would make me a tad late for the train you see.
I hope to blog again sometime tomorrow,
a post filled with joy, without a drop of sorrow.
So now I must go upstairs to take my shower,
as my train is scheduled to depart in one hour.
Saturday, December 27, 2003
Monday, December 22, 2003
I had one crazy fun weekend.
Friday night I went into NYC for my friends 32nd Birthday. I didnt want to go, but no one else was going, so I went.
We ended up going Webster Hall, which is a big club. I hate big clubs with an evil passion. I prefer the smaller places which are lounges/clubs. At least you can talk and mingle much easier.
We walked in, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to get into the club. I was not too happy about that, but then again, it wasnt my birthday. If we had gotten into the club before 12, the admission was free. We got in at 12:08am.
We first went to the reggae room, where I had my Watermelon Martini, and she had a Hypnotic. I wasnt out to meet anyone that night, I just wanted to dance. I dont think guys have the "Im going to the club to dance" mentality. Random guys came up from behind, put their arms around my waist and tried dancing with me. Im prudish enough to be disgusted and irritated by this form of a salutation, and I would either just walk away, or turn around and tell them to leave me alone. Then I was chillin' by the wall, and someone thought it would be ok to pretend he was dancing with me. I told him to go away.
At this point I was in full bitch mode. We moved up to the second floor, and there was my kind of music. All sorts of 80's and early 90s pop music. They even played Baby Got Back. I was psyched. Then some of my strange buddies from the reggae floor found me on the 2nd floor and tried dancing with me. When one of them came up to me and got a little too close (yet again), I said,"Oh no, not this shit again!" I think I turned him off entirely. But I was happy dancing with my friend.
TO get all of our money's worth, we had to go up to the techno/house floor which was cool. At least there, everyone was entranced by the music and there were some fun people to mingle with. Then all of a sudden, a man in a very tight Santa suit was swinging from a trapeeze that hung from the ceiling. This was interesting, because I thought he was going to hit the ceiling more than once. And his Santa Suit was really tight. It really accentuated every curve in his skinny little body. Plus, I've never seen a trapeeze inside a building at all. I was intrigued.
Finally after floor hopping and avoiding weird people who insisted on invading my personal space, we sat in a chair, where a guy asked my friend if he could talk to me.She told him to ask me, and he said, "She looks like she'll say no." My friend told him, that if he asked me right, I may say yes. Once again, a wacky guy felt like the only way he could have a conversation with me, was keeping his face a half an inch from my face. His breath stunk, and I obviously not interested, so he went away.
Yes, Im slightly prudish. I dont like it when some random person thinks he can just rub himself and his dirty sweat against me. I also think its possible to have a conversation with someone who is at least 5 inches away from my face. Far enough so no spittle can rest on my skin.
I actually did have fun when I had the chance to dance peacefully. Then by 3:30, we were poopooed. We went to get our coats, and got into a nice 45 minute conversation with the guy at the coat check. That was my favorite part of the night. He was too funny, and we were just cracking up.
So that was Friday night/Saturday morning. I went home Saturday afternoon, and as soon as I turned into my driveway, I hit the curb (dont drive and talk on the cell phone at the same time), and the sidewall of my tire suffered a gash, and I got a flat. I changed the tire, and put the donut tire on. THen Sunday morning, I went to the garage, and had to wait 2 goddamn hours for them to change my tire.
I've left out Saturday night and Sunday afternoon...more to come as time permits.
Friday night I went into NYC for my friends 32nd Birthday. I didnt want to go, but no one else was going, so I went.
We ended up going Webster Hall, which is a big club. I hate big clubs with an evil passion. I prefer the smaller places which are lounges/clubs. At least you can talk and mingle much easier.
We walked in, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to get into the club. I was not too happy about that, but then again, it wasnt my birthday. If we had gotten into the club before 12, the admission was free. We got in at 12:08am.
We first went to the reggae room, where I had my Watermelon Martini, and she had a Hypnotic. I wasnt out to meet anyone that night, I just wanted to dance. I dont think guys have the "Im going to the club to dance" mentality. Random guys came up from behind, put their arms around my waist and tried dancing with me. Im prudish enough to be disgusted and irritated by this form of a salutation, and I would either just walk away, or turn around and tell them to leave me alone. Then I was chillin' by the wall, and someone thought it would be ok to pretend he was dancing with me. I told him to go away.
At this point I was in full bitch mode. We moved up to the second floor, and there was my kind of music. All sorts of 80's and early 90s pop music. They even played Baby Got Back. I was psyched. Then some of my strange buddies from the reggae floor found me on the 2nd floor and tried dancing with me. When one of them came up to me and got a little too close (yet again), I said,"Oh no, not this shit again!" I think I turned him off entirely. But I was happy dancing with my friend.
TO get all of our money's worth, we had to go up to the techno/house floor which was cool. At least there, everyone was entranced by the music and there were some fun people to mingle with. Then all of a sudden, a man in a very tight Santa suit was swinging from a trapeeze that hung from the ceiling. This was interesting, because I thought he was going to hit the ceiling more than once. And his Santa Suit was really tight. It really accentuated every curve in his skinny little body. Plus, I've never seen a trapeeze inside a building at all. I was intrigued.
Finally after floor hopping and avoiding weird people who insisted on invading my personal space, we sat in a chair, where a guy asked my friend if he could talk to me.She told him to ask me, and he said, "She looks like she'll say no." My friend told him, that if he asked me right, I may say yes. Once again, a wacky guy felt like the only way he could have a conversation with me, was keeping his face a half an inch from my face. His breath stunk, and I obviously not interested, so he went away.
Yes, Im slightly prudish. I dont like it when some random person thinks he can just rub himself and his dirty sweat against me. I also think its possible to have a conversation with someone who is at least 5 inches away from my face. Far enough so no spittle can rest on my skin.
I actually did have fun when I had the chance to dance peacefully. Then by 3:30, we were poopooed. We went to get our coats, and got into a nice 45 minute conversation with the guy at the coat check. That was my favorite part of the night. He was too funny, and we were just cracking up.
So that was Friday night/Saturday morning. I went home Saturday afternoon, and as soon as I turned into my driveway, I hit the curb (dont drive and talk on the cell phone at the same time), and the sidewall of my tire suffered a gash, and I got a flat. I changed the tire, and put the donut tire on. THen Sunday morning, I went to the garage, and had to wait 2 goddamn hours for them to change my tire.
I've left out Saturday night and Sunday afternoon...more to come as time permits.
Friday, December 19, 2003
As I walked by a window, I caught a little reflection of myself. I noticed my hair. In one word, "Ugh."
I recently learned the secret to getting long hair, is not to cut it. Instead of my monthly haircuts, its been 2 months since I have gotten a haircut. My hair has taken an odd shape, and it looks like my big ol' head has been morphed with the help of a baseball bat.
The objects my hair resembles:
1.A Christmas tree or the bottom half of the Star of David (ok, at least Im in season)
2.A portabella mushroom
3.An Obtuse Triangle
4.My own personal umbrella
5.A Mop
6.Krusty the Klown's hair
I would elaborate, but Im at work now, and I must hit the post and publish button before I am caught.
Happy Hanukkah!
I recently learned the secret to getting long hair, is not to cut it. Instead of my monthly haircuts, its been 2 months since I have gotten a haircut. My hair has taken an odd shape, and it looks like my big ol' head has been morphed with the help of a baseball bat.
The objects my hair resembles:
1.A Christmas tree or the bottom half of the Star of David (ok, at least Im in season)
2.A portabella mushroom
3.An Obtuse Triangle
4.My own personal umbrella
5.A Mop
6.Krusty the Klown's hair
I would elaborate, but Im at work now, and I must hit the post and publish button before I am caught.
Happy Hanukkah!
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Sometimes I find being confronted with sadness keeps me humble.
Im reading a book called "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," by Jean-Dominique Bauby. (The French title is "le scaphandre et le papillon") Bauby was the editor of the French version of Elle Magazine. He suffered a massive stroke at the age of 43, which left him quadraplegic. The only movement he could make was blinking his left eye. He wrote the entire book with a code that he created through the blinking of his eye. I just couldnt imagine if my mind was intact and I could not express anything at all. No facial expressions, no hand movements, no responding at all, yet having all these things in my head that I want to say. The worst was when he talked about his children came to visit him, and he couldnt touch them, or respond to their stories. Bauby died a year after his stroke, 2 days after his book was published.
I've seen movies like Stepmom, or My Life where a parent is faced with death. They know they will die and miss their childs life. They prepare by making movies, writing letters, and making scrapbooks. They somehow try to be present at an event that hasnt even occured yet, but knowing it will happen.
There is a patient who knows she is going to die. There was the one defining symptom which occured. At first, she was hysterical. She's only 45. She has 2 kids aged 12 and 14. Its not her time. Now, when she comes in for her chemo, instead of being in the treatment room with the rest of the patients, she goes to a room in the back. There, her sister helps her create a scrapbook for her daughters. She sits quietly and writes letters
meant for each milestone in their lives that she will miss, in an attempt to be there for her girls. I pass by her room to see her reaction to what she's doing. She is so focused and diligently working on leaving a bit of herself with her kids.
It takes a brave person to accept their fate. Both Bauby and my patient dealt with the unexpected and fought as much as they could, until they knew the only thing they could do was join them. Its only recently that I could feel the meaning of the words, "They were courageous til the very end."
Im reading a book called "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," by Jean-Dominique Bauby. (The French title is "le scaphandre et le papillon") Bauby was the editor of the French version of Elle Magazine. He suffered a massive stroke at the age of 43, which left him quadraplegic. The only movement he could make was blinking his left eye. He wrote the entire book with a code that he created through the blinking of his eye. I just couldnt imagine if my mind was intact and I could not express anything at all. No facial expressions, no hand movements, no responding at all, yet having all these things in my head that I want to say. The worst was when he talked about his children came to visit him, and he couldnt touch them, or respond to their stories. Bauby died a year after his stroke, 2 days after his book was published.
I've seen movies like Stepmom, or My Life where a parent is faced with death. They know they will die and miss their childs life. They prepare by making movies, writing letters, and making scrapbooks. They somehow try to be present at an event that hasnt even occured yet, but knowing it will happen.
There is a patient who knows she is going to die. There was the one defining symptom which occured. At first, she was hysterical. She's only 45. She has 2 kids aged 12 and 14. Its not her time. Now, when she comes in for her chemo, instead of being in the treatment room with the rest of the patients, she goes to a room in the back. There, her sister helps her create a scrapbook for her daughters. She sits quietly and writes letters
meant for each milestone in their lives that she will miss, in an attempt to be there for her girls. I pass by her room to see her reaction to what she's doing. She is so focused and diligently working on leaving a bit of herself with her kids.
It takes a brave person to accept their fate. Both Bauby and my patient dealt with the unexpected and fought as much as they could, until they knew the only thing they could do was join them. Its only recently that I could feel the meaning of the words, "They were courageous til the very end."
Sunday, December 14, 2003
I would much rather be in the loving arms of a hot Italian named Vincenzo, Lorenzo, Marco, Antonio, Claudio, Roberto or even a Luigi.
At the moment, Im enduring this head cold coupled with a very nauseaus feeling in the pit of my stomach as Im working on applications. I just want to aspirate my head and then vomit.
I should have at least brought my comforter with me.
At the moment, Im enduring this head cold coupled with a very nauseaus feeling in the pit of my stomach as Im working on applications. I just want to aspirate my head and then vomit.
I should have at least brought my comforter with me.
Saturday, December 13, 2003
So I wrote my email to Cali Law Student Boy. He seemed cool with it as he said, "You cant blame a guy for trying!" Im glad that went off without a hitch. (I think)
A friend of mine from work is recently divorced (She's 35). By recently, I mean the papers were signed 2 weeks ago. To add insult to injury, her car engine went kaput on her, and she hasnt been able to do a darn thing.
I asked her at work if she set up her Christmas tree yet, and she said, "I cant even get one, the damn car is in the shop, and Im not in the Christmas mood this year." I told her I would take her to buy a tree.
Yesterday after work, we went to The Christmas Tree Shop (This is the actual name of the store). It was packed of course, but we were armed with our cart. We bought all of the ornaments, stockings, a Santa hat for 89 cents, and a big red bow. The last thing left on the list was the (artificial) tree. We searched and searched. There was no way that The Christmas Tree Shop could not have a Christmas tree. We found the section, and got the LAST tree. We were psyched.
Afterwards, we went for Jamaican food. She's of Jamaican descent, so I figured she could be my Jamaican food guide. Oh boy oh boy. That was some goooood stuff. Not as spicy as I expected, but it was yummylicious. This restaurant had posters of Jamaica all over the place and now I want to get out of this cold, frosty weather and run to the loving sun rays of the Carribean.
We went to her place, and me, her, and her daughter set up the Christmas tree. It was so pretty. My friend was so excited. She said, "Its so pretty we should put it up in Macy's!" It really was though.
Then I came home, tended to a few phone calls. I love talking on the phone late at night, under my cozy comforter. Its so relaxing.
Now its early morning and Im up. I actually have some things I'll probably procrastinate on. I should hang up the Christmas cards I've been getting. Sounds exciting? Its a pretty normal thing to do I guess.
A friend of mine from work is recently divorced (She's 35). By recently, I mean the papers were signed 2 weeks ago. To add insult to injury, her car engine went kaput on her, and she hasnt been able to do a darn thing.
I asked her at work if she set up her Christmas tree yet, and she said, "I cant even get one, the damn car is in the shop, and Im not in the Christmas mood this year." I told her I would take her to buy a tree.
Yesterday after work, we went to The Christmas Tree Shop (This is the actual name of the store). It was packed of course, but we were armed with our cart. We bought all of the ornaments, stockings, a Santa hat for 89 cents, and a big red bow. The last thing left on the list was the (artificial) tree. We searched and searched. There was no way that The Christmas Tree Shop could not have a Christmas tree. We found the section, and got the LAST tree. We were psyched.
Afterwards, we went for Jamaican food. She's of Jamaican descent, so I figured she could be my Jamaican food guide. Oh boy oh boy. That was some goooood stuff. Not as spicy as I expected, but it was yummylicious. This restaurant had posters of Jamaica all over the place and now I want to get out of this cold, frosty weather and run to the loving sun rays of the Carribean.
We went to her place, and me, her, and her daughter set up the Christmas tree. It was so pretty. My friend was so excited. She said, "Its so pretty we should put it up in Macy's!" It really was though.
Then I came home, tended to a few phone calls. I love talking on the phone late at night, under my cozy comforter. Its so relaxing.
Now its early morning and Im up. I actually have some things I'll probably procrastinate on. I should hang up the Christmas cards I've been getting. Sounds exciting? Its a pretty normal thing to do I guess.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
I got an email from Cali Law Student Boy. He basically told me that he likes me. Its very strange. I dont know why. He made it plainly obvious, but how do you respond when someone is on the other side of the country? I've only met him once, and even though we email, you dont know what you get when face to face. He described me as "poised and charming with a radiant smile." Damn. The nicest description D'ex had for me was "You dont nag me, your cheesecake is phenomenal, and you have a great ass." (Not that I mind that description either, but Cali Law Student Boy had a more eloquent version.) Im not sure what to do. I dont take starting a relationship lightly, especially if it has to be long distance right from the beginning. I suppose I should tell him the previous sentence I wrote. I dont think Im being illogical or irrational. We could still be friends. Maybe. We'll see.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
What to say? Im tired. I need to get to the gym. I have all this application stuff to do, and catch up on sleep! I try and take walks at lunchtime now. I like to be in the sun.
Yesterday I come home, and in my little pack of mail is a little package. I see the return address and its Cali Law Student Boy. I love getting presents, so I ran to my room to open it. I was so excited. It was a CD. He once asked me what my favorite CD's were, and I mentioned a whole bunch, and one I had lost at some point in life and never bothered replacing. Thats the CD he sent. I was smiling from ear to ear because of his thoughtfulness. The cute note didnt hurt either. Too bad he's 3000 miles away. It would have been nice to go on a date. In any case, living with my parents will cause me to have a date with a therapist once or twice a week in the near future.
Yesterday I come home, and in my little pack of mail is a little package. I see the return address and its Cali Law Student Boy. I love getting presents, so I ran to my room to open it. I was so excited. It was a CD. He once asked me what my favorite CD's were, and I mentioned a whole bunch, and one I had lost at some point in life and never bothered replacing. Thats the CD he sent. I was smiling from ear to ear because of his thoughtfulness. The cute note didnt hurt either. Too bad he's 3000 miles away. It would have been nice to go on a date. In any case, living with my parents will cause me to have a date with a therapist once or twice a week in the near future.
Monday, December 08, 2003
Good news. I got into Community College! Yay!
I have to take a math credit for my masters degree, which is why the days of community college will begin. Nice to know I can get into some college.
I just got back from our department Christmas party. The food and wine was great, and the $100 stuffed in the Christmas card was even better. Happy Holidays!!
I've been slightly worried about my karma. I have good intentions with everything I do. Sometimes I do and say things that arent so nice, especially when I have the unsettling feeling that people are not being sincere with me. I do as much good as I can. I deserve a little good karma once in a while. Sometimes I see people who are mean and insincere, but all sorts of luck is bestowed upon them. Then I see people who are very kind and generous, and it seems like they get kicked down so many times. Some people become bitter, and some people become even more kind and generous. I was bitter for a long time, and I've been trying the power of positive thinking. Especially since everyday I see cancer patients who have such uplifting spirits about everything, and I have also seen these same patients vent, cry, and look dejected. Will the power of positive thinking ever take effect, or are we merely playing with our own minds?
I have to take a math credit for my masters degree, which is why the days of community college will begin. Nice to know I can get into some college.
I just got back from our department Christmas party. The food and wine was great, and the $100 stuffed in the Christmas card was even better. Happy Holidays!!
I've been slightly worried about my karma. I have good intentions with everything I do. Sometimes I do and say things that arent so nice, especially when I have the unsettling feeling that people are not being sincere with me. I do as much good as I can. I deserve a little good karma once in a while. Sometimes I see people who are mean and insincere, but all sorts of luck is bestowed upon them. Then I see people who are very kind and generous, and it seems like they get kicked down so many times. Some people become bitter, and some people become even more kind and generous. I was bitter for a long time, and I've been trying the power of positive thinking. Especially since everyday I see cancer patients who have such uplifting spirits about everything, and I have also seen these same patients vent, cry, and look dejected. Will the power of positive thinking ever take effect, or are we merely playing with our own minds?
Sunday, December 07, 2003
Friday, December 05, 2003
Im posting while at work. Oooh scandalous!
The nicest thing just happened. One of the chemo patients brought in a jar filled with ingredients, and attached a recipe for "Holiday Happiness Cookies." Im relatively new, and she stopped me as I was walking and said, "It looks like I missed you in the beginning! Happy Holidays!" Then she gave me the jar.
Then I went into the chemo treatment room, and 2 of the patients getting treatment were saying how they have it better than others.
Puts things in perspective. I wanted to cry.
The nicest thing just happened. One of the chemo patients brought in a jar filled with ingredients, and attached a recipe for "Holiday Happiness Cookies." Im relatively new, and she stopped me as I was walking and said, "It looks like I missed you in the beginning! Happy Holidays!" Then she gave me the jar.
Then I went into the chemo treatment room, and 2 of the patients getting treatment were saying how they have it better than others.
Puts things in perspective. I wanted to cry.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Fun moments with friends. (Not this time)
I've been agonizing over a friend who invited herself to go to a New Years party with me. This same chick also invited herself to stay at my friends apartment in NYC. Someone whom she hasnt even met. Without asking to see if it was ok with me, or even checking with me to see if my friends had any sort of problem with it. I kept all my anger pent up and I found myself resenting her, and she didnt know why. So I did the sensible thing. I told a semi-lie. I said, "My cousins from Phoenix will be in that week, so I dont think I'll be going to the city for New Years."
Her response: "Well, tell your friends that I'll be taggin along with them."
My internal reaction, "She did not say that. She did NOT just say that she was going out with my friends. She did not fuckin say that. Please tell me the acoustics in this room are bad."
My response: "What?!"
Her response: "I can hang with your friends if you're not going to be there."
My internal reaction: "Is she still talking? I've got to take this chick along for my birthday? Maybe I should come up with an excuse for that too. Why is all this lack of common courtesy being thrown in my face?"
My response: "They're going to a party at someone else's loft. They cant bring any number of people they want." (This is the truth.)
Her response: "Oh ok. I get it."
I wonder if she knew I didnt want her to come. Lately I've been feeling like the only reason she wants me to go to NYC with her, is because Im the one with the friends there. Im not getting a sincere vibe anymore. At this point, I dont care. I was so mad. Im not even upset that I told my little white lie. I should probably think of one for my birthday too. Maybe I should join Friendster...Nahhh...
I've been agonizing over a friend who invited herself to go to a New Years party with me. This same chick also invited herself to stay at my friends apartment in NYC. Someone whom she hasnt even met. Without asking to see if it was ok with me, or even checking with me to see if my friends had any sort of problem with it. I kept all my anger pent up and I found myself resenting her, and she didnt know why. So I did the sensible thing. I told a semi-lie. I said, "My cousins from Phoenix will be in that week, so I dont think I'll be going to the city for New Years."
Her response: "Well, tell your friends that I'll be taggin along with them."
My internal reaction, "She did not say that. She did NOT just say that she was going out with my friends. She did not fuckin say that. Please tell me the acoustics in this room are bad."
My response: "What?!"
Her response: "I can hang with your friends if you're not going to be there."
My internal reaction: "Is she still talking? I've got to take this chick along for my birthday? Maybe I should come up with an excuse for that too. Why is all this lack of common courtesy being thrown in my face?"
My response: "They're going to a party at someone else's loft. They cant bring any number of people they want." (This is the truth.)
Her response: "Oh ok. I get it."
I wonder if she knew I didnt want her to come. Lately I've been feeling like the only reason she wants me to go to NYC with her, is because Im the one with the friends there. Im not getting a sincere vibe anymore. At this point, I dont care. I was so mad. Im not even upset that I told my little white lie. I should probably think of one for my birthday too. Maybe I should join Friendster...Nahhh...
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
In the whirlwind that is my life, I received an email from my cousin. It started off a little something like this:
M.M invites you to join Friendster!!
This definitely decreases the six degrees of separation that I quite enjoy. There's a certain mystery I savor in not knowing everyone I pass on the street. A couple people have told me about the wonderful friends/mates/ assorted peeps they have met on Friendster. I hardly have time to see the all the friends I already have, whats the point in making new 'friends' through friends of friends of friends of cousins of brothers (you get the point) that I wont be able to see? If I have a friend, I want to be able to be a friend to them. Or at least feel the connection. You cant get that warm fuzzy feeling from everyone.
I noticed that in the world of blogs, six degrees of separation has decreased to four. I've checked out a few random blogs, and seen a blog here and there that I read on their link list. I even see my blog buddies comments on many of the various blogs I read. Maybe the blogging world is like Friendster. I feel more connected to someone reading their blog than I would reading about what their hobbies are. Its all so random. Globalization seeping through the world like 'tea from a teabag'--silent and rapid.
In any case, Im still not joining Friendster.
M.M invites you to join Friendster!!
This definitely decreases the six degrees of separation that I quite enjoy. There's a certain mystery I savor in not knowing everyone I pass on the street. A couple people have told me about the wonderful friends/mates/ assorted peeps they have met on Friendster. I hardly have time to see the all the friends I already have, whats the point in making new 'friends' through friends of friends of friends of cousins of brothers (you get the point) that I wont be able to see? If I have a friend, I want to be able to be a friend to them. Or at least feel the connection. You cant get that warm fuzzy feeling from everyone.
I noticed that in the world of blogs, six degrees of separation has decreased to four. I've checked out a few random blogs, and seen a blog here and there that I read on their link list. I even see my blog buddies comments on many of the various blogs I read. Maybe the blogging world is like Friendster. I feel more connected to someone reading their blog than I would reading about what their hobbies are. Its all so random. Globalization seeping through the world like 'tea from a teabag'--silent and rapid.
In any case, Im still not joining Friendster.