June 24, 2008

So I’m in Williamsburg (“THE HEART OF WILLIAMSBURG!”) at least twice a week to work at VBS.TV. I walk down Bedford Ave. It’s pretty popular. I was surprised that I didn’t see an American Apparel store, because isn’t that everything uberhipster?

I apparently thought too soon.

Today on a run to the comp store as an “intern duty” I passed AP, and realized that life really isn’t that fair.

And then I bought myself a thing of rasberries from the natural foods store across the street and went back to work.

Sigh.

Smile. God Loves You.

June 24, 2008

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.

Tough Cookies

June 18, 2008

Yesterday was a tough day. Like a really tough day. Like I wanted to curl up in a ball and die sort of day. Somewhere around mid-afternoon I just had a giant crash and burn, and I basically cancelled everything I had planned for the week and decided to go to Boston for a brief session with my brain doctor. Things are just not working cool up there and I’m tired of it.

I’m basically going to tell her the sort of treatment I’m on is not working. And I’m sick of it. And I’d like to change things. After talking to Pat, I’ve also decided to try some alternate methods of treatment. Holistic, to be more specific. Upon my return from Boston, I’m going to start going to candlelight yoga and possibly look into acupuncture.

Yep. That’s about it. Tah dah.

Sowwy.

June 13, 2008

I really have no excuse for not writing. Except the following:

1. The things I want to write about I CAN’T write about because I censor myself a little bit all the time. Wah wah.
2. I am EXHAUSTED. It’s so hot sometimes in my apartment, I can’t write. And then other times I’m so busy I can’t write. I promise I’ll get better at this.
3. I’m hungry and want french fries. Now.

My Lonesome Cowboy

June 9, 2008

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.

New Yawhk, New Yawhk!

June 6, 2008

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…

The Last Laugh

June 3, 2008

I gnawed my fingernails down to the bone and I bit the side of my tongue until it bled. I didn’t notice it until a bit of blood dribbled out of the corner of my mouth; I probably looked like a murder victim.

There is something about physical pain that affects me so differently than emotional pain. I find emotion pain somewhat more distressing and debilitating, while physical pain you can combat with a shmorgasbourg of pills. I cannot cure my emotional pain, but in an attempt to do so, I lash out in other directions. I act out, aggressively. I attach myself to people and vices like barnicles; you have to practically kick me off to rid of me.

More recently, I have learned to express my emotional pain a little more differently. Walls that haven’t been around for a long time are rebuilt… fortified… and reinforced again. My emotional scars are not going to keep me from attaching again, but they numb the pain… the walls are my pain-killers.

In someone else’s warm arms, I instinctively pull away. He asks me what’s wrong but there’s nothing to say. Nothing is wrong. I give in. And in a moment of emotional disconnect, a brilliant epiphany occurs: I am no longer the person I used to be.

I emerge from a cocoon the next day, reborn with new wings. Shortly thereafter, I fly away. Free. I am now in a place that inspires happiness and makes me accomplish things I never thought I could do. I am suddenly the person I’ve been wanting to be since last summer, and my identity is no longer a siamese twin.

problem solved

Blistering Heat

June 2, 2008

I may have discovered today that I am the only person in New York City (boroughs included) that sweats. Seriously. I go outside, I don’t walk more than 6 blocks to the subway, I ride the air conditioned subway for about 5 minutes, and then walk another 6 blocks to work. Upon walking in the front door, I am sweating profusely. Like in a gross way. Like I don’t want to be around myself way.

However, it did not compare to the trek I took uptown to Columbus Circle and then to Chelsea today. After a substantial train ride from Wililamsburg, I had to go downtown to drop off what I picked up uptown. Now, I have NO problem running errands, in fact, I enjoy being busy; However, if anyone knows Manhattan, they know that only 1 train (no pun intended) that goes anywhere near Chelsea, however, the train stopped 2 streets and 4 avenues from where I needed to be. Death consumed me as I limped down the street. By the time I had reached my destination, my slip-ons had created the worst schmorgasbourg of blisters I could have possibly ever experienced. There are blisters on my achiles tendons, on the balls of my feet, and on the outside edge. My current stressor is I don’t know what pair of shoes I am going to wear tomorrow that won’t hurt my feet, not the amount of work I’m going to do.

I got some Chinese food when I got back to the apartment (questionable) and my roommate has yet to come home. (He told me originally he got off of work at 7 last night, but I have yet to see him enter the apartment or notice anything in the apartment has moved from it’s place.) I am exhausted and feeling gross and all I want to do is crawl into bed, turn on my new fan, and pass out. But it’s 7:30, and that would be pathetic.