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I am so nervous, I could vomit.

And I’ve got until next Thursday to feel like this.

Everybody please distract me in the meantime, and, if possible, speak to me in French only.

Merci beaucoup. Je serai mort.

Coffee. Milk. Two… Splendas.

I’m not a fan of Splenda. It scares me, actually. The idea of adding more chemicals to something that is already not so great for me ain’t the smartest move, you know? Let’s get real: I ain’t the healthiest horse in the stable. There are days where I justify a can of coke as a meal (eeeeee) or, GOD, totally hit up McDonalds (Shut up, I love reliving my childhood.) Yeah, sure, I’m filling my body with toxins, but something with a scary name like SPLENDAAAAA makes me quake in my boots. I feel like I’m voluntarily adding a packet of MSG to everything I eat. And I just used a Flavia machine. That scares me too. Flavia machine, Splenda… GOD WHAT’S NEXT? SOY MILK?!

I made a very important, yet difficult, trip to ikea the other day. I pushed through, after about 4 hours of sleep the night before, and rode the G train down to 9 Streets station. I blame myself, really, in the past where I’ve insisted on taking a car or that one time I took the B61 bus or whatever; the car costs $15 each way (if I call my main man, Gerry) and the B61 bus takes an hour and a half. Ugh. Gag me.

But this time I took the train. It took maybe 30 minutes (tops!) and then it was a short walk in the sunshine over to ikea – I even saw Heather Graham shooting a movie and DAYAMNNN she’s pretty hot in person. I went into ikea with a game plan… I had picked everything out online – measured it already – and created a shopping list that I emailed to myself, printed out, and took into the store… it already had all the warehouse information on it already, so I got to skip the maze that is the showroom and march straight back to the flat packed boxes that are far too heavy and should be considered illegal. It occurred to me that maybe I needed some book ends (the bookshelves I bought are kind of open ended and sometimes the books don’t want to stay in) so I busted through the marketplace and tried to find bookends.

Why am I always surprised when nobody in ikea knows where ANYTHING is? I spent the next 45 minutes scouring the marketplace section, and almost gave up… I decided this was my trip to ikea, and I needed to make it work, so I marched right up to the show room, found a book end on a bookshelf (it looked really good!) and asked someone where I could find it in the marketplace… After several more minutes of wandering looking for a sales associate, navigating the maze AGAIN, and getting back to home organization section, I found the book ends, all together in one section, and hated every single one. I bought six of the cheapest and figured I’d return them if they didn’t work out right – worst case scenario. I headed back to the warehouse, couldn’t find my shopping list, attempted to find it on my cell phone, and then found it tucked into the back of my shirt (?). I drove my pallet cart through the aisles, knowing EXACTLY where I was headed, found my shelves (easy) and then the drawer sets, which, surprise, weighed at least 75 lbs a piece.

I have definitely effed up my body trying to move that ish.
After a long wait in line – I definitely picked the one where the credit card reader was having an attitude problem – I called a car and went downstairs to wait for it… there was no way I was taking one of the cars already waiting down there… those punks will charge you $40 a ride… I sat out in the cold (I wore a tshirt and vest, smart move, nat) and waited for the car. 45 minutes later it arrived, slightly irritated because it was waiting for me in the bus lane (when I specifically stated I’d be at the taxi drop off) and proceeded to drop one of my drawer sets on the latch of the trunk, completely shattering several of it’s pieces. GREAT.
I promptly returned inside and stated I had purchased it without noticing it was damaged – this isn’t exactly a lie because for all I knew, it was damaged already, however, I still blame the driver. I got it exchanged, but it took another 30 minutes and by the time I escaped ikea, it was rush hour, and it took me 45 minutes to get home. Sigh. When I got back to my apartment, I had to haul everything up the flight of stairs by myself, which was just stupid. Absolutely stupid. I started dismantling some of the boxes, hoping if I took out some of the pieces, they would weigh less and be easier to carry. Even when I split the boxes in half, it was still excruciating, and I ran up the stairs trying not to pass out. After 6 or so trips, I collapsed on the floor, ripped off all my clothes, and started putting furniture together.

It occurred to me, as I sat sweating in my underwear with the fan on full blast, that I have a gift: putting together Ikea furniture. I think I should start some sort of assembly business, that for an extra $50 or something, I’ll put it together in my underwear. I think I’d need a body guard, but everybody wins, I suppose. I should ask my mom about this – she’s very business savvy sometimes
Furniture assembled, I began to destroy my room… I got rid of a lot of stuff – which is always hard for me to do – and I think my room looks MUCH better. People who come see it might actually think I’m a tidy person. Little do they know…

But okay, here’s what grinds my gears: after all that hard work, and the reward of my room looking off the heeeeezyyyyy, I am incapable of moving. My back is so sore that lying down even hurts. My butt and upper thighs feel like I was kicked by a horse, several times. And my arms, holy balls… my upper arms are just laughing at me screaming “Natalie YOU JOKE YOU CANT CARRY THAT ISH” while my wrists and right in the center of the palm of my right hand (where I pressed down with my palm to get maximum pressure on the screwdriver) hurts like the dickens. My entire body hates me. A lot.
I think that’s where my entire ikea story was going – how much pain I’m in and how much I just want to go home and curl up and DIE. Thank GOD this coffee is kicking in or I’d definitely be a puddle on the floor.

There’s one more thing I want to address before I wrap this up:
This whole David Letterman thing. I like Dave, frankly, this whole “slept with an assistant” thing doesn’t really change the way I feel about him. I think the fact that everyone is up in arms about it and some people are calling for him to get fired… whatever. This ain’t the first time something like this has happened, and it certainly ain’t the last. I think everybody has got to keep in mind that it takes two to do the naked horizontal floor tango, and if he really paid for her to go to law school or whatever, everyone should be giving them both high fives and moving on. Sure, I feel bad for his wife, but I think at that time, she was only a girlfriend, and it was HELLA long ago. For all we know, they were going through a rough patch then. I give Dave props for coming clean and trying to move past it. I’m so on team Dave. Woot.

What happens at the Rivington…

Alright, let’s make one thing clear from the start: last night was amazing. I am horrible with odd social situations, but with the wonderful miss Anna, I somehow turned last night into a debaucherous shit show. And it started with the patron shots (bad Anna) and the fucking stupid $30 card tab minimum and the actual felon on the roof that shared a delightful story about his trip to Rikers. Yes, it was such a ritzy place that it involved a massive minimum and somehow a dude that went to Rikers for getting in a fight with like 17 guys. (At least that’s what he said.) I told him I was a big fan of Law and Order and they’re always talking about Rikers so I’d love to hear about what it was actually like. Shit.

While a confidentiality agreement I signed keeps me from telling you the whole story, here’s a story from last night I CAN tell you, and it’s about my new Turkish friend Censa. (By the way, the way you say her name is not even close to how it looks.)
Anna and I were at the bar early. When people were milling around trying to decide which empty table to sit at and taking pictures out the floor to ceiling windows of the view from the top. We were bring watched (being the only two girls in the room at the time) and as crowds started to shuffle in, a very lonely looking Censa sat down next to us. Perched on the edge of the seat, I looked to Anna and said “Let’s befriend her.” Thinking that getting in with another group of people at the Rivington might score us some bottle service; yeah, okay, bad motivation, but I made up for it. We start talking to her and hear some HORRIBLE story about her long distance boyfriend who broke up with her to be with another girl and she’s going back to Europe and blah blah blah. Anna and I then promised this girl we would find her someone at this bar for her to make out with so she could rub it in long distance boyfriend’s face, and possibly gain a little confidence boost.
“You point out the guy,” I said, “and I’ll make it happen.”
An hour or so later into the night and we run into her again.
“Find one?” I said.
“That one is kind of cute.” She told me. She pointed out a pretty cute guy, one that I had even eyed earlier.
“Consider it done.” I said.
I marched straight up to the guy and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me?” I said. “Hi. You see my friend in the red boots over there?” The guy smiled and let out a little laugh.
“Yeah. Behind the pole?”
“Yeah! Well, she’s absolutely lovely and she thinks you’re really cute.”
“Oh really? It’s pretty dark in here. She’s probably wrong about that.” Eff. Not biting. I pushed harder.
“What? You’re adorable. I’m just saying, maybe keep an eye on her.” I winked and walked back to Anna and Censa, who looked like she was going to die.
“Don’t even worry about it.” I said. She proceeded to hike up her boobies, and walk back into the crowd.
…
We ran into Censa again a few hours later, who had made no love connection with this cute guy (he was SO cute), but I saw him at the bar, and Censa’s drink was low, so I pushed her to go stand next to him and order another drink. She got too shy, so Anna and I walked over with her, thinking if he recognized me (believe me, it was hard to miss me last night) he would see her and maybe say something.
Suddenly, I look behind me, and Anna is talking to the cute guy. Censa looks like she’s about to barf on my heels and I tell her to relax and order another drink.
Anna suddenly grabs me by the arm, and like some horrible dream I keep reliving, she pulls me aside and said the two most popular words about boys I think are cute:
“He’s gay.”

—-

There were a few things from last night I’m trying to forget, and I guess what happens at the Rivington is going to stay at the Rivington. Too bad Anna said we’re going back next Wednesday. (And I’m not so secretly looking forward to it.)

PS: Anna, I love you.

Snapshots

I’m a bit lazy to get too much into detail about things at this point because my brain is a little squirreled and I probably couldn’t tell you North from South anymore…

- There has been a SERIOUS lack of work for the past week. Yo film peoples, if you need a PA last minute (or even in general), I am SO there.

- Been working really hard on my art. Spent yesterday on a serious mission to find felt and did a pretty good job. Newest project is looking like one of the better ones I’ve produced in awhile.

- Saw Jason for lunch yesterday, which was crazy because sometimes we fall SO out of touch. But one of the things I love about my relationship with Jason is that we can fall off the planet for awhile and still meet up and have a great time catching up. It’s almost more fun if we’ve got shit to gossip about It was funny to realize that for the first time in a long time, we were both in really good places mentally. Sure, we both have stressors (mine being the, oh, lack of income), but for the most part, we’re happy. I haven’t been able to say that in awhile.

- Had some sort of crazy ridiculous breakthrough with my therapist recently and then fucked it up going back to old habits. I think I’m clinically insane. Like, I’m making mistakes I’m not learning from, so I’m making the same mistakes again. I thought I had learned from them, but it appears instincts lead me elsewhere…

- Getting SUPER excited for the MJR retreat at the end of the month.

- I am getting constant bloody noses lately. I know, gross right? I think that thing that happens on Lost with the time jumps is happening to me. If I just like collapse and die one day from all the time travel, could somebody make sure to find a subletter so my roommate isn’t in a pickle? Thanks.

- I need another bookshelf SO bad. I’ve already picked them out from Ikea, I just gotta get my shit (and my moneys) together so I can buy themmmmm…

- I love that it’s fall and I finally get to wear a jacket. This snuggly weather is AWESOME.

- I feel like I have been doing a really great job recently of not spending money on superfluous things. That’s huge, considering I’m such a compulsive shopper.

- Might be going to visit lil bro this weekend. Might be the first time I drive on the East Coast. This is another situation where I might die, so someone take good care of my roommate… and my mom.

- I still think if you haven’t already you should check out THIS if you haven’t already. (And tell your friends… I’ve been “hired” to promote

- I want breakfast.

Scrapple

So I’m back to being unemployed. It ain’t so bad, really, but I’ve been unemployed before, and I know the system… I know how to manage the time, fill the void, and goddamnit, it’s most simple terms: keep busy.

I’ve become a little more dedicated to the smaller projects in my arsenal. My alarm clock goes off at 9:30 every morning and I do wake up. (I try to be out of bed by 10.) Maintaining focus and drive is crucial.

Lately, I’ve been working on art. I’ve been dating. I’ve been keeping up with friends a bit better. I’ve been excavating my room, figuring out how my cell phone ACTUALLY works, looking into galleries to submit to, and actually doing my laundry myself (it’s been awhile, but when there’s no income, I can’t justify dropping it off…)

With this “work,” however, comes a shadow of immaturity. I’ve been drinking more (mostly on the cheap or whatever is left in the fridge.) I’ve been staying up later and keeping up with my DVR a bit better than I did when I was unemployed. I haven’t baked or cooked in awhile (ramen is the extent of the stove use at this juncture.) I’ll even justify taking a few hours to do nothing: lie out in the park and stare up at the warped gray sky (figure out if you’re gonna be sunny or rainy, New York fall!)

In other news, I have mixed feelings here and there. How’s that for vague?

Helping Out A Friend

Know someone that likes Lost? Pass it on…

http://loststanzas.tumblr.com/

Fall Movies I’d Like to See:

Up in the Air
I think George Clooney was an interesting choice, but it gave off a little bit of a fight clubby voice-overy feeling that made me.

The Maid
There’s something really awkward inside of me that really likes the reality that this film presents.

Blind Date
Stanley Tucci is probably my third favorite actor of all time. Patricia Clarkson, well, she’s just a genius.
This movie has the potential to be a really sweet moment, or a horrifyingly depressing speck of dust on a reel. That sounds horrible, but it’s trueee.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
Alright, so you’re going to have to rip your brain into two to separate the book from the movie, but this looks somewhat entertaining. And the cast is pretty solid.

The Men Who Stare at Goats
Uh, yep.

The September Issue
Oh. My. God. Yes. Finally. Thank you. This is going to be like that Louis Vuitton Documentary that came out years ago. Humanized Marc Jacobs, who is obviously not human. Bananas.

Ong Bak 2
Don’t laugh. Tony Jaa is a baller.

Oh, and if someone could explain to me who was in charge of Paula Abdul’s wig at the VH1 Divas show? It may be the cheapest piece of synthetic hair I’ve ever seen. Also, when she almost fell off the stage I almost peed my pants.

Lines in the Dirt

I was recently asked not to blog about something. I’ll be the first to admit, yeah, I probably would have blogged about it. It’s a life changing moment – a dot on my timeline – but out of respect for those involved, as I usually take into consideration when I write, I won’t. But it brought a few things into perspective:

a. everyone actually reads my blog? is it broadcasting in times square? why am I only getting about 24 hits every day then…

b. perhaps i should choose my words more carefully. every day i’ve noticed that more and more people seem to misconstrue things i say, write, or try to express. It’s frustrating, to a certain degree, that what I say isn’t understood. It’s like being a baby – I’m crying but nobody knows what I want.

c. lately I’ve been writing very minimally. what will happen is I’ll start writing, I’ll delete it, start again, delete it, start again, delete it… the cycle repeats itself until I get frustrated and have to just step away… do something else. I recently started carrying around my tape recorder in hopes of catching some words, some conversation, some moment, that will re-inspire me. will remind me why i studied writing in the first place.

and it’s funny, really, because right before I went home, I had a really crucial moment that I’ve been itching to write about for weeks. i just can’t verbalize it… i think it’s because i care too much.

I just want to crawl under my big green comforter with you and laugh until we both pass out in warm fog… one window was slammed shut while I was home and such a beautiful one opened. I can’t wait to crawl through and see the other side.

“Good Luck with Love”

i still can’t write. i’m sorry.

Let it Rain

Watching a catastrophe is frighteningly consuming. In that moment, you don’t really remember what else is going on. What you’re supposed to be doing. To put your laundry in the dryer. Buy your groceries. Wash your hair.

Last week I was pretty depressed. I couldn’t do much of anything and everything I used to love felt dead. My creative source dried up and I lost my muse. I lost most will to move forward with projects or give attention to new ideas. I was so lost, and nobody was in a place to find me.

And then I adopted some houseguests. Unexpected ones at that… late Friday afternoon I got a text asking if my house was free to crash at, and I let them, thinking a night wouldn’t be too high maintenance. We’d go out, have some drinks, party a bit… maybe finally getting out of the house is something I needed.

Yet when they arrived, catastrophe had struck. The energy was shifted. The smiles I expected were forced and almost sarcastic to cover up pain and suffering. So I watched and absorbed and tried to listen and felt like my true self was just curling up inside of me and my priority was to fix this to the best of my ability. Be the best friend to someone I can be. Give and expect nothing in return. I consumed myself with someone else’s problem, and seemed to forget my own…

… until today.

I woke up this morning wondering what I was doing. How I can’t accomplish everything I want. How nobody else really knows what I want or how to give it to me. Who is going to be there when I need to crash on the couch? Who is going to give and expect nothing? I feel like I have placed myself in a position where I am almost always putting others before myself, and suddenly I’m poor… financially and emotionally. I am unable to recognize and approach my own problems. I am incapable of caring. My own personal catastrophe… all I can do is sit back, watch in awe, and soak up the pain all over again.

It splashes in to puddles on the sidewalk and seeps in through the soles of my shoes.