inspiration in the weirdest places

These past week or so may have been the hardest I’ve ever worked in my life. Next week is following in a similar fashion: long hours, exhaustion, and stress. Rob found new knots in my back yesterday that seemed to horrify him. Happens bud.

The fourth was an epic celebration with friends, food (an epic spread provided by yours truly, except for tacos, that I could probably never create so beautifully), magic, and fire. I drank too much too early and ended up falling asleep around 7… people arrived and went as I napped, and when I woke up, the fireworks had just began. I went to the roof and met up with the gang, who were drunkenly singing patriotic songs. I use the term “patriotic songs” loosely, because it ranged from “God Bless America” to “America, Fuck Yeah” and “More Than A Feeling.” Journey is somewhat patriotic I suppose, but my votes were pro-Bruce, “Born in the USA” style. Ya hearrrd?

Met some interesting people. Drank and ate some interesting things. Called some friends I had been out of touch with. Considered sparking up old habits that I’ve definitely kicked. 

Had brunch with Stef, Matt, and Caroline, a new love of my life. She’s a sparkler, that one. Kind of want to bottle her energy and pour it over my cereal every morning. We talked a lot about my future plans (aka what keeps coming up at work, and where it might lead me in the future… too unclear to write about specifically here…) and a lot of really good points came up. I just don’t know what I’m doing to a certain extent in a situation like this. I really like where I am right now. For once in my life, I am feeling balanced, healthy and happy. I’ve found that spot where I really feel great, and I’m not sure what exactly is doing it, but I like it and hope it will stay this way for awhile. Sudden changes in the near future may screw that all up, and I don’t like the sound of that. But turning down any opportunity is an option I don’t want to give myself; Turning down the chance they may be giving me could change everything for the better… or worse. Depends on if you see “flag at half mast” meaning national tragedy or a boner. 

Today I’m back on the job (sort of.) Making gift baskets for important people and then hitting up “The Wackness” with Jean in SoHo. Drop a line if you wanna kick it. We’ll probably be kicking it at the Daieli again. As usual. Tomorrow is another very silly, slightly hungover day.

You know binder clips? Those incredibly handy little clips that fold open and then can be closed around a very large stack of documents? I find them to be handier than paper clips (flimsy) and staples (restricting).

I have two giant ones on both of my shoulders.

Not really. It just feels like it. And I want to cry.

That’s what a car said on it’s side as it drove by this morning. Flabbergasted, it struck me that maybe God did love me and that maybe I should smile.

Oh sweet lord. The drugs ARE working.

It was intriguing in that short second to think that
a) God loves me?
b) there is a God?
c) I’m hungry.

Sorry I’ve been MIA (galang galang) for so long… been VERY busy. Busier than you can imagine.

The weekend was great. Went to Boston. Kicked it at H’s house. Made some sweet happy fun times with Pebbles. Played with Evan. It was a hell of a weekend. Most of it was drunk, but that’s okay. Sometimes you need a weekend like that. This was that weekend for me. Props to the home team (in Boston) who kept me going. It was good to see you and have some good snuggles.

Sometimes I question motivation. Specifically my own. I don’t know sometimes what I’m doing and for what reason, but I blame a lot of it on instinct. I realize that’s sort of vague, but there’s not really a story behind it either, so tough cookies. I suppose I just make big plans for everything, and then it’s often a let down.

Also, why am I always labeled “the whore” in a group of people? Is it because I’m more sexually open? God, no. It couldn’t be. Somehow just all the sex jokes come back to me. Maybe it’s because everyone wants to have sex with me? Nope. Def not. I don’t know. It just occurred to me yesterday, especially since it’s with a completely different group of people (this was a common theme in Boston as well.) It’s odd. I don’t mind it so much I suppose, I just wonder what sort of vibe I’ve got that encourages that sort of… jokery?

At work. Been thinking a lot about working at Vice/VBS and what that actually means. After reading a lot of haterade on Gawker, I guess I somewhat question what I’m doing here. I see myself as much more of a “Gawker” person than I do a “Vice” person (I don’t dress nearly cool enough or smoke enough cigarettes.) I probably shouldn’t say that; Gawker and Vice have some sort of rivalry I don’t exactly understand. I like that the people here are a little more themselves (than at other internships I’ve had in the past) and most seem to look at this like it’s not so much of a job, just this cool warehouse loft they hang out in all day. I could see myself working here in the future, but I do question how exactly I’d be able to contribute. Sometimes I just feel terribly out of place here: flashback to Insomnia picking the “prettier” intern to go to Vegas. Ugh. No good.

This week, Natalie recommends listening to the Death Cab for Cutie album “Narrow Stairs” (if you haven’t been listening to it nonstop already) and Girl Talk’s “Feed the Animals.”

Have a nice day. Don’t forget to smile because Natalie loves you.

A phone conversation was abruptly ended (on my accord) after the most awkward line ever to be said was spoken. I suppose it caught me most off guard to be shown that even the slightest things can be erased from memory.

I however have a memory for detail that should be reckoned with. Not the sort of detail where someone can list a lot of things and I’ll remember them all, but I remember the tiny specific things that are important and a part of my life. The things that are unique to a person. I have a friend that used men’s deodorant all through high school because she thought she sweat a lot. I think what ended up happening was her deodorant would just remind me of my boyfriend from sophomore year; it was the same brand. I know someone who thinks being kissed on their stomach is the hottest thing a woman can do; I think because kissing a dudes abs is close to kissing… well… you know where that goes. I know someone who used to insist on tying their shoes the exact same way every time: left then right, tighten from the bottom on the right, tighten on the left, tie the left, tie the right.

Originally this post was password protected. I’m not sure why I did it. I suppose it’s because I wanted to finally write and feel uncensored. To finally write all of the anger and frustration, those things I thought I had really contained and put away. It’s like moldy food in the fridge - when you open it, you can smell it even after you’ve closed it. It’s why I’ve been ordering out lately.

I’ve been taking things too personally lately, in my work and in my life. My heart says that it’s what is right, and I shouldn’t be censoring my emotions for the sake of others. I am an incredibly sensitive person with an incredibly open heart, I’ll be the first to admit that. But I suppose in the last few hours of today, a balance was recognized. My roommate said something in passing that I hadn’t thought of (really), and I guess it speaks a lot of truth, especially in my life: “Don’t make your friends your therapists, because it will only drive them away.”

Imagine that.

The weekend was splendiferous. I feel terrible knowing that my readership is going down due to lack of posting, but I am going to try WAY harder to update. I mean, I just sent my mom an email that was longer than most of the posts I write, so I really have no excuse.
It’s not like I don’t have the time. Honestly, it is too hot to write. I feel as if I could write on the west coast if it was that hot, I mean, 90 degrees of DRY heat is way different than 90 degrees of HUMIDITY. It makes me want to die. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to sell my soul in exchange for air conditioning. My roommate already has done that.

I honestly can’t justify an investment like an air conditioner for an apartment I’m going to live in for 2.5 more months. If I buy one, it’s not like I can put it in storage until I move in February - seriously, it would be a storage unit with an air conditioner, maybe some of my summer clothes, and quite possibly my new best friend, Mr. Box Fan.

To distract myself from the heat, I’ve been trying to keep busy in air conditioned places. And if I’m at the apartment, I sit in front of my fan in a swimsuit (seriously.) On Saturday, I spent most of the day in front of the fan, using my dove bronzing lotion and painting my fingernails while catching up on all the MTV I’ve missed during the week (AMERICAS BEST DANCE CREW AUDITIONS, YES PLEASE!) then went out for dinner with Stef and a coworker. We got Tapas (SO GOOD) and saw Sex and the City (SO LONG). It was fun, but I wouldn’t force any non-fan to sit through over 2 hours of outfit montages and carrie-isms. I certainly enjoyed it, but I have an annual SATC marathon where I watch every episode in order. You may call me a loser, but I see it as dedication.

Yesterday was fabulous, in the most fabulous sense of the word. Brunch was fabulous. The Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum was fabulous. Rob was fabulous (hah.) and dinner with Matt and Stef and Rob was delicious - seriously go to Momofuku. the pork will change your life. fo reals.

I am just so unmotivated to do anything now. Somebody give me a new blog to read… hopefully one that updates every 45 seconds plz. k thanks.

So okay, I have a quick second to jot down some things/ideas/feelings/SO EMOOOOO from the city. I’ve finally arrived, settled, and practically completed a full week of work. So far my “don’t have things scheduled Friday, Saturday, or Sunday so you can get extra work” is working just the way I planned… I’m in the office today waiting to go to set later this afternoon… wahoo!

My first week was quite a whirlwind of exhaustion. I am back in my lame-o habit of “wakeup. work. eat. sleep”, which I suppose is alright for now, because that’s what I’m here to do. My roommate is a doll - although our schedules vary (we wake up around the same time some days, but he works SO late) we still catch each other sometimes on the way to the bathroom.

Working at VBS is not completely what I expected, but it’s workin for me. So far there hasn’t been a whole lot to do, but I’m hoping that I’ll learn some final cut next week and start being able to edit and upload footage and whatnot. The office is crazy - it’s like Bedford/Williamsburg Hipster central… I almost feel NOT COOL enough to be in the office. But there are some normal people too, and I dig em. Everybody seems to be really nice and laid back… occasionally some VBS personality will tromp through the office an I have some sort of “OMG ITS SO-AND-SO” and then I get really excited and realize that none of my friends really watch VBS so I get excited by myself. (The guy from “Garbage Island” was in the office last week… omg so adorable.) I’m waiting for Trace to run through the office and for me to pass out on my desk in sheer ecstasy. (I hope my coworkers read this… wah wah.)

Partizan is just what I wanted to be. Miguel and I kick it in the office and basically talk all day while doing things for Raffi and Andrew. Upon my starting date, there was no big campaign in the office or anything, but there’s still plenty to do. I love the office and the balance between people working REALLY hard and just kicking back and having a good laugh about something in common. Yesterday’s theme of the day was “Lakers v. Celtics” which I wasn’t really involved in, but the rivalry was still hilarious to witness. Going on set was kind of a last minute decision, but I’m amped to spend the afternoon working. It’s better than sitting around in my AC-free apartment watching TV… or going into the city to spend money I don’t have. I’m curious to see if the director is different from the last time I worked with him.

Weekend plans are huge: Saturday I’m going with Stef (Matt’s GF) and a coworker who just moved to the city, Sarah, to see the Sex and the City movie. Then on Sunday, I’ve got a brunch reservation at Essex with Rob, his friend Justine, Stef, Josh, and Miguel. It’s going to be quite a lovely, bubbly brunch.

So I’m back to the daily grind. More thoughts/ideas/whatever to follow. There’s just no really good time to write - I’d rather be sleeping some days…

This is the second time this week that I’ve stayed up incredibly late and slept only a few hours before waking up and being active… I fell asleep a little after 3, and woke up a little after 7 this morning. I started finishing things up around the house - packing up my sheets, finishing up some last minute dishes, double checking my information and whatnot… It’s now 8:30, my subletter isn’t coming until 9:45, and I secretly wish I had slept another hour or so. I guess I would have stressed out if I got up later. Ugh.

Really excited about getting into the city this afternoon… I hope I sleep all the way on the train or I might not make it to dinner with Matt and Stef. Unghhhhhhhhh. (I’m surprised you can’t hear that, Alex.) Everything in my body says “VOMIT!!!” but I already tried that and it definitely didn’t change anything.

SLEEP. WANT.

Leaving for NYC tomorrow morning… getting really excited. My dad just called and it turns out he scored us SWEET seats to “Boeing Boeing” (Bradley Witford - the guy from West Wing who’s married to to Jane Kazmarak, the mom on Malcolm in the Middle, and Christine Baranski) and “Young Frankenstien” (with Roger Bart, Sutton Foster, and MEGAN MULLALLY -THATS KAREN WALKER TO YOU, BITCHES!) and I’m really excited. Tomorrow night, after I drop off my stuff at my new apartment, I’m meeting up with Matt and Stef (!) for dinner and some catch up time.

I’ve been cleaning like a crazy person today and I question whether I’m going to be done in time. I really shouldn’t be taking the time to write this anyway, but I needed a break. I’m having serious fatigue for some reason and occasionally I feel faint. I don’t know if I’m actually sick, or just tired. I’ve had a few late nights recently, and getting to sleep has been harder due to my jet lag, which has yet to switch over to the east coast time yet.

Back to tidying the house. Sigh. More exciting things to come, I’m sure.

I’ve always questioned the “I was drunk” defense. At points in my life, I’ve probably used it, and sure, it lowers inhibitions. But while I was “making good choices” last night, I recall a completely lucid moment where I knew that I was capable of making a conscious decision. It was an out of body experience; I could see myself thinking and making decisions. There was no “I was drunk.” That was just not an option at that point. I question if it ever has been, or ever will be again.

Regardless of decisions made, last night was fun. I went to H’s for a night of Wii and cards with a bunch of dudes. Epic sausagefest - which anyone who knows me knows is my favorite - into the wee hours. Pebbles, the most adorable puppy EVER, and I were the only bitches in the house. Word.

After taking the bus home around 6am this morning and crawling back into bed after a bacon, egg and cheese from my favorite beacon hill coffee shop, I passed out until around 1, but was interrupted every few hours by a friendly phone calls; I would literally wake up to answer, talk, and then pass back out. After finally getting out of bed around 2, I got busy and worked more on packing. I think I’ve overpacked, but whatever. I always overpack, and I’m over it. Tomorrow, I’m sweeping, swiffering, dishes, final cleaning, etc. Then I’m going to a birthday party with H. Hopefully not staying too late… I have a train to catch the next morning… UGH.

I’m fascinated by my mind’s ability to adapt lately. I don’t know if it’s because of the end of a relationship or just that I’m in an extremely transitional point in my life that my mind is changing and my emotions react different than I expect. I’m not sure what I was trying to explain, but that’s what came out I guess.

I forgot to mention I saw “Priceless,” with Audrey Tautou the other day. It was a sweet comedy (”I hate chick flicks,” my companion mentioned) but nothing extraordinary. It made me think I could pull off golddigging though, which I thought was a seriously bad influence. I also prayed that Audrey wouldn’t die from not eating, because I was pretty sure I could see every bone in her body; my forearms were bigger than her calves.

Back in Boston. The flight was long and grueling, but luckily for the first half I was sitting next to an Oregon State student who was really nice and shared the same hate for the amount of leg room united provides if you are not in “economy plus” (literally about 8″.) Crossing my legs on an airplane is a trying task.

Lesley called me while I was picking up my bags at baggage claim. I was shocked to hear from her, considering I thought she might never come back from France. We had a good chat and arranged to have another “catchup” chat because we haven’t really spoken much over the past year, and good lord we are excellent at gossiping. Our conversation was no more than 20 minutes long, but I learned and shared more than I probably ‘ought to…

I arrived back in my apartment a bit after midnight. My flight got in early around 11:45, and on the cab ride home I seriously considered calling the chinese food place next door and picking it up upon arrival. I settled for an episode of law and order and some cream cheese and wheat thins. I felt ill (I hadn’t eaten for about 9 hours) and I wanted to die. So I crawled into bed and watched “Smokin Aces” which wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Woke up today, started doing laundry, packing, and cleaning. For a place that is “mine,” I really don’t feel at home right now. Not sure why. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust and although everything in the house is mine, it feels like something has changed since I’ve returned to it. The air felt stale, like there was no circulation (I left a back window open to avoid this.) But I’m glad I didn’t attempt to clean anything before I left. That would have just been… bad.

Back to work. Much to do, and only 4 days to really do it in. Meeting Mattaboo at Shabu Shabu tonight and I am psyched… I love that shit for some reason even though I’m paying to cook my own food. Perhaps it’s just the fabulous company I seem to do it in…