Celibacy.

October 30, 2008

God.
This pebble in my heart rocks around my inside and bounces off my lungs like a tympani. It thuds across my brain like a million angry soldiers crossing a battlefield. We’re going to war, they say. Across from them my sensibility, my morality and my judgement. Their buttons shined and their shoes are tied in double knots.

Picking at the skin on my fingers and chipping at the layers on my fingernails. I’m digging this concave surface to crack and peel. I would drag them across your skin, but they are jagged and sadistic.
I’ve given it all up to avoid the battle raging in my psyche. I am too consumed with marrying the next man I meet and hiding in the safety of my comforter. I guess we all want to be loved, they say. And it’s true and we know it.

Take me in your arms and let me push you away, for both of our sakes.

I have been making a list

October 29, 2008

I am having difficulty figuring out if I am awake when I am sleeping or if I am sleeping when I’m awake.

In the meadow at dusk.

Good Time #39581

October 27, 2008

Watching/Screaming over Gossip Girl with Jackie, while eating fresh popcorn and drinking a whole bottle of our fav champagne. Preceded and followed by excessive girl talk, in both literal and musical forms. 

*Adds mental polaroid to scrapbook.

I would just like to take a moment to thank the friends that have really been there for me lately. You know who you are: the phone calls, the random invites out, keeping tabs on me so you know I’m not dead, etc. There has been a group of unexpected people that have really stepped up, and I really appreciate it.

It’s hard to be socially motivated when you’re counting down the days (47) until you move away permanently. But this group of people (regardless of their location around the nation) remind me that I still have friends, people I can talk to, even if they’re 3,000 miles away.

Certain close friends have faded away more recently, and I’ve been rationalizing it and saying that “we’re just growing apart” or “they’re busy.” But I think I’ve reached my limit on that front. If you just DON’T return a phone call, ever, that’s just rude. If I have to call you again a few days later because you didn’t call me back, I’m not happy. That’s just shitty of you. Shame on you for being a dick and shame on me for thinking you’d return my phone call.

</rant>

 

But seriously, cuts are coming up soon and you better rehearse your song and dance if you’re gonna make the cut. I’ll also remember this when I’m rich and famous and then you’ll be in trouble when you start begging me to get you in VIP and let you live in my pool house. Not happening.

seriously this time </rant>

 

To everyone else who’s cool, I love you, and keep on truckin.

Please note some of the content of this post may not be suitable for children. Children should ask their parents’ permission before going online and should not be left unattended. Also, do not judge me by my actions in this post; we all make poor choices sometimes.

Mistake #1: Not eating anything except for a bagel around noon. This is not real food, and this does not count as dinner. Therefore, when you start drinking around 8pm, and there is no food in your stomach, this only leads to bad things.

Mistake #2: Thinking it was a “beautiful evening.” I left the house and it was dark, but nice out. Very mild. I was in short leggings and a mid-sleeved short wool coat and that was fine… when I left my house. When I left Ryan’s house, it was a torrential downpour. The first this bad this season. The wool coat now smells rank. My Alifes are wet; I’ve been avoiding that since I bought them, almost always completely refusing to wear them out last spring in fear of rain. My hair is just… ugh. Luckily, my costume tail was in a garbage bag, which I held above my head for most of the trip home. (My arms hurt.)

Mistake #3: Drinking and dancing. I have always been really against drinking and driving, but now I am also really against drinking and dancing. Maybe it didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten, but drinking, dancing, drinking – not water, mind you – and then dancing (for about 3 hours) and I am sufficiently dehydrated and not perfectly sober-minded. Wundebar.

Mistake #4: The T. Ryan, I love you, but the T ride to your house was incredibly painful. I often feel queasy on the T for some reason, but never bad enough to vom, which almost happened. I think I could have made better choices for this evening deciding to KEEP PARTYING and go out to Brookline to visit Ryan. By the time I got there, I was incredibly ill-feeling, terrified of Ryan (an incredibly convincing Nurse Joker), and really anti-social. It didn’t help that when I tried to introduce myself to another one of the loners (aka, the three or so people that didn’t really know anyone else at the party), I was ignored the first time around and ended up saying aloud: “Okay. Let’s try again. Hi! My name is Natalie!” Hand outstretched, ready to put myself out there and try to make friends, and the guy looks at me like I’ve just told him that I think Sarah Palin should be the next president of the United States. For those of you not following along, or living under a horrifying conservative rock, the resulting response was not pretty. Not. Pretty. I mean, he was pretty, but when I said hi, he was no longer. I proceeded to sit on Ryan’s couch (in his room, not in the living room where people may attack me) text Josh and guilting him into showing up to a party that I ended up leaving before he arrived (I AM SORRY.)

Mistake #5: Deciding it would be a good idea to “get the alcohol out of my stomach.” Alright, I went to bartending school, and they teach you that throwing up after you drink to “get rid of the alcohol” is just silly. And bad for your teeth. But sometimes, after a night of drinking, you feel better after you vom. (I know I do.) However, after I purged of what remained – let me tell you, not a lot. If it had been an hour or so later, it would have just been bile. Sexy, right? – and somewhere soon after, there was something seriously wrong with the toilet. Alright, so I live in an old building, and my toilet is kind of crap anyway, and the plumbing sucks and every once and awhile I have to plunge. Not because I’m taking giant dumps or voms or flushing dead puppies and guppies down the toilet or whatever (seriously) but because the building is sooo oooooold (MY SINK IS CAST IRON. FO REALZ.) the plumbing occasionally craps out (probably doesn’t help that I live in the basement. I’m just waiting for the water heater to explode and blow through the wall behind my sink. That entire wall is hot cause of that thing. Come over an feel it sometime.) I can deal with toilets. I’ve watched my parents attack a bathroom several times, so I know the drill, and figured i could plunge through this problem, per usual.
And then the water in the tank turned dark brown. We’re not talking like rusty brown, we’re talkin brown as we dirt brown. Now the toilet flushes with dark brown water, and even so, I’m afraid to flush it again (I’ve got a free hand to grab the doohickie that makes the tank refill with water if I have to stop it) because if I do (without grabbing the doohickie) then the toilet will overflow and I will be an incredibly unhappy person. Not that I wasn’t an incredibly unhappy person in that moment, it just would have been bad. Really not cool. Like, worse. So I essentially plunge all the water out of the bowl and then try to flush again. The fucking thing almost fills to the top and I gotta watch that puppy with a hawk eye just to make sure something terrible doesn’t go wrong. Another thing, the water is brown. In the bowl. It’s horrible. Gah. So I continue to plunge and flush, hoping that one of these times a little bubble will pop up and then all will go back to normal with the flushing and working toilet per usual that I signed up for. After spending a solid 30 minutes trying to solve the problem, I started to hear my mother’s voice in my head: “You can’t fix this tonight, there’s no use freaking out about it.” Either my anti-depressants are working REALLLLLY well or a little part of me just gave up and let the toilet win this one. I left the plunger in the bowl so I wouldn’t wake up and mindlessly use it. I’m calling my landlord in the morning – everyone pray for me that he picks up – or else I’m calling a 24 hour emergency plumber and sending him the invoice.

So, that’s about it. I’m sure there’s more but I’m repressing the memories already. I know the downpour outside is kind of making me paranoid. The apartment I lived in before this one had some serious structural problems and every time it rained for the first 3 months I lived there, the window frames would drip brown yellow water (kind of like what’s chillin out in my toilet right now) and basically ruined some of my personal belongings and caused me to move my bed as far away from the window as possible. (Side note: the first time it rained and dripped water on me in bed, I wasn’t alone, and it took us a solid 15 minutes to find out where the water was coming from. It was weird. Really weird. Sorry, you came over to spend the night in my twin bed and it decided to rain on you INSIDE. Just like my soul.) Anywho, after I yelled at my landcompany (we didn’t have a landLORD, just a big group of people who never fixed anything) and threatened them with legal action, they fixed it.
But what I was saying is that I sleep with my window open in my bedroom (it opens from the top and tilts in) and I can hear the rain, which is nice and reminds me of Oregon, but also scares the crap out of me because I have this deep-rooted fear that water will just come deluging through the window one night and destroy all my personal belongings. Not that it would surprise me, as this apartment seems to crumble more and more each day before my eyes.

I’m sorry about talking so much about toilets and puking and rain and trauma and drinking and whatever. I’m not feeling very tipsy anymore, but I can tell I’m going to regret this in the morning. I hope that writing this all down will help me, as I will read it and remember how much worse the night before was. Who knows, maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ve just traumatized everyone who has been reading this with TMI…

But I did win “funniest costume” at the dance thing I went to. Go me.

Goodnight.

sneaky monkey

October 25, 2008

1. My costume makes its big debut tonight and I’m a little nervous about it. I’m not sure if people will know what I am or if they think I’m some sort of red ant or something. I guess it’s not so bad if I’m a red ant. Whatevs.

2. Saw “Burn After Reading” with my friend Mike today. I would say it’s a definite must-see. Like if you really haven’t seen it, you should. I’m pissed at myself for waiting this long. Weaksauce. The film was great, I’m still as terrified of John Malkovitch as I was last time I saw him in a movie… the whole cast is fantastic and I think I’m going to go see it again because I felt like there’s no way I could have possibly caught every hilarious thing in the movie.

3. Tonight is a big night. We’ll see if I survive until tomorrow cause I got a bunch of reading and and stuff to do for next week. If I don’t answer my phone, I’m sorry. Natalie isn’t there anymore. Mark would say “Lucy” is, but that’s another story for another time…

1. Zach Braff has done far too many voiceovers for commercials lately. That puppy Charmin commercial or whatever that is. Then Pur water filters… who knows what else he’s done.

2. Watching “Kath & Kim” every week since it’s premier has finally paid off. The show is not actually “Kath & Kim,” it’s “The Molly Shannon Show.” Last night’s episode included 3 dance sequences, two of which were in a gay bar. Molly Shannon is so delightfully inappropriate and I have decided to keep watching the show just to have SNL flashbacks.

3. I don’t understand why more people don’t watch “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” I wish I knew what made people THAT funny. “Dennis Reynolds: An Erotic Life” was last night’s new episode. I saw some episodes a good long time ago (we’re talking the FIRST time I lived in LA.), and I thought the show was brilliant. I got a little upset when they added Danny DeVito. I thought it was all badness once they added him, and I admit, the show did get a little more complicated after they added him in and I think that Charlie and Mac changed a lot in terms of character. Well they all did. They all got a little more extreme, and I just don’t know if everything that followed was as tight as the first season.

3B. I don’t understand how you huff glue. Could someone explain that to me? I don’t want to do it or anything, they just keep talking about it on “Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and I feel weird for not knowing.

4. I am almost done with my Halloween costume. I’m not sure if I want to post pictures here, but if you know who I am on facebook, pictures will probably exist after this weekend. I will tell you, my first three original ideas for my costume were bust: A red crayon, a ketchup bottle, and clifford the big red dog. I hope that gives you a little hint to what I ended up being.

5. I voted.

Oh. Oh my.

Last night I went to MFA with the lovely Jackie Shuman for a good escape from regular life. We saw Mirah and No Kids, which was a rockin good time. I went in with really low expectations, considering I’ve heard from MULTIPLE sources that a regular Mirah concert consists of her with some random band making up songs about insects and dinosaurs and not playing anything from “C’mon Miracle”. (I wouldn’t have minded to have heard “Lucky Little Shark” though.) But this was a solo tour – that was made clear – she stood by herself in the spotlight for the entire show, even doing a “stand up routine” on all the injuries she’s had lately; this lead to the admission that she was playing songs that didn’t require the use of her pinky, which had been chopped off when she was making soup stock last week. So, lucky us, Mirah proceeded to play multiple tracks off of “C’mon Miracle” and a bunch of new songs off her new album which is coming out in a few months (yay!) 

I turned to Jackie before the show started. “I’ll be so happy if she plays ‘La Familia’,” she said. “I’ll die if she plays “We’re Both So Sorry.” I said.

She opened with “We’re Both So Sorry.” I didn’t die, but I was incredibly satisfied with the situation. She went on to play “Apples in the Trees,” “Don’t Die in Me,” “Jerusalem,” and “Cold Cold Water,” just to name a few.

I don’t know if it was just the concert that was so satisfying. Lately I’ve been taking mental inventories of who I have actual friendships with, and who are fair-weather friends. Last night, Jackie seriously proved her presence in my life. Knowing my life had gone to shit recently and inviting me out of the blue was really thoughtful. We had some good catch up time, and had one of those “girl talk” moments that I wish I had on tape so I could put it in a script. Le sigh. At first, I really wasn’t into the idea of going out last night, but Jackie, you made me really glad I did. Thank you for being there, and making me realize I’m not as alone in this stupid city as I thought I was.

 

This weekend is full of… things. I have to finish my halloween costume ASAP and hit up Ryan’s Halloween party this weekend. I’ve got a few presentations to work out, a few papers to begin writing. Nothing major… midterms are almost over, so I can sleep with a clear conscience that I’m not blowing off anything serious.

I’m still feeling really lost. Haven’t heard back from GE/NBC. They don’t really take phone calls, so I literally have to wait until they call me. Haven’t really thought about what I’m going to do yet. Seriously considering taking some time off and just getting a waitressing job or some ish and figuring out what the fuck is going on. I’m such a lost cause with a worthless degree at this point, I feel like grad school is one of my only options, and that’s a real turn off.

I am taking a break from my novel. I feel as if I’m writing too much from my imagination and because I have things so visually stuck in my head, I’m not writing it out enough so the audience can see it too. I gotta go back through what I have and add some description stat or it’s going to be a really blank-space novel.

Alright. Enough bitching for now. Mirah and Halloween costume pictures to come.

Fifty-Six

October 19, 2008

There’s not much to say, but this weekend had some really disappointing moments. It just reinforces all my feelings about moving to New York… I’m kind of exhausted of Boston’s monotony. How predictable, how lame.

I’m just losing my cool. Not that I had any in the first place.

I’m not a quitter, I am just sick of this shit.

My landlord is coming by my apartment next week, and that means I need to start excavating my personal belongings from the hurricane that hit my apartment. By excavating, I mean cleaning, and by hurricane, I mean how I haven’t cleaned up after myself in a week. Something is probably Kimchi-ing in my sink. However, this is not the worst I’ve seen my apartment, and that’s terrifying.

I cleaned out my closet the other night. I have a HUGE box of clothes to give away. If you want first stab before they go to Salvation Army or whoever is picking them up, let me know. There’s some good stuff in there, it’s just stuff I don’t wear anymore, and Tim Gunn told me the other night if I haven’t worn it in a year, I should give it away. It was a big step: I’m not really good at getting rid of shit because I get emotionally attached to everything. I’m giving away all my Johnny Cupcakes tshirts (I think they all shrank or I blew up and they don’t fit anymore blahhhh) and it feels weird because that kind of pinpoints a stage in my life. It’s just weird. God, I’ll have to buy more clothes or something. Wahwah.

Went out to dinner with my Aunt last night. It’s kind of interesting to hear that social things don’t change much between my age and hers… there’s still plenty of bullshit and immaturity to go around. I think lately I’ve been holding my expectations too high for the people I love. I’ve always held high expectations for myself and for others, but lately, I’m failed by almost everyone I know… I’m beginning to see patterns in my close relationships… specifically with levels of intimacy and to what extent I trust people and how they reciprocate that. I’ve always been a trusting person – I think I’m a humanist in my heart – and I guess I go into every social situation thinking that everyone is intrinsically good and won’t fuck me over. This is becoming a consistent disappointment, and to a certain degree, I am beginning to question if I’m going about this all wrong: if I have conditioned myself into thinking that it’s everyone else – not me – that are fucked up.

And this dead boy, he’s real. I just don’t know if he knows it yet.