up with the sun

June 30, 2009

I’ve been working like a madwoman all day on my writing project, which should be done either next month or early August, when I will reveal it. I’m really cautious about WHEN I’m going to publish it due to the content. It’s not exactly gonna go down in one gulp… It’s going to make several people incredibly uncomfortable, but on the other hand, a lot of people are going to think it’s insightful and hilarious. I don’t usually brag about my writing, but this is gonna be worth reading. Promise.

Because I’ve been all up in this project, I’ve really been ignoring most other thoughts floating through my head all day, so obviously this post is going to be a little lackluster. Sorry.

In my personal life, I’ve really been waiting for a sign lately. There have been smidgens of signs – tiny miracles, I’ll call them – and I’m beginning to wonder what they mean, if anything at all. Is it weird I don’t believe in something if I don’t see it or hear it for myself? My faith has always wavered… but my belief is certainly attached to my will, and that does not fluctuate. Regardless of the times I’ve been kicked down the metaphorical stairs, I still climb back up, tail wagging, eyes bright.

What sort of sign is it going to take to know when to stop? Where do you draw the line?

I’m not going to say where or when I saw it, but I recently witnessed some thoughts on forgiveness that really touched me. Letting go of something is the best thing you can do for yourself… holding on to that resentment is only hurting you, not whoever is causing you that pain. I think somehow I’ve always known this, and I’ve been quick to forgive. Sure, I won’t forget (I got that from my mother. Seriously. That woman doesn’t forget SHIT.) but learning when I shouldn’t let go so easily is still a struggle.

I’m not sure if I know what I want anymore. I do and I don’t. I think honesty is going to be the hardest thing in the next few months – fessing up and accepting responsibility are going to be major players. Even in the work I’ll be publishing soon am I admitting to something that even my own parents don’t know about… only a few of my very close friends have been privy to the experience, and even then, I’m fairly tight lipped except to a chosen few.

This brutal honesty is going to hopefully break down a wall or two. What I discovered through the experience has proved that what I thought I wanted is the ultimate truth. It’s just a question of can I be honest, open, and vulnerable enough to let it happen.

It won’t be tomorrow, but it will be soon. 6000 words and counting, my longest work to date…

Today has been the end to quite the odd week. Yesterday I couldn’t really bring myself to write anything funny because my brain was stained with misery. Sometimes I can be funny without thinking about it, but that’s often when I’m not writing. I’m not good at writing comedy. It’s one of the reasons I gave up screenwriting. Sure, I can pump out a gut-wrenching personal essay, but dear God, asking me to write something funny is about as effortless as putting an elephant on an airplane. (Please reference this and this. Believe me, if there are whole movies about elephants on airplanes, it’s not easy.)

I’m not funny. I’m sarcastic and self-deprecating… things that go hand in hand or hand in glove or skull in cap or something. My writing is poor (I often just write as if I’m speaking aloud, so those who actually know me find all of this very charming) so studying writing and literature in college is basically just one big joke in my head. I think the writing I do that requires the most thought is twitter. Seriously. My thoughts are usually more than 140 characters… it’s like micro-fiction but annoying.

Lately I’ve been preparing a piece I’m going to post about my last few months in New York. I embarked on a project (that ended up being wayyyy too expensive) that I thought was either going to make me or break me as a person, and at this point it broke me. I’ve kind of given up on it because I got tired. With my circle of friends, I’ve been quite open about the fact I’ve been doing it, and most are supportive and curious about my experience. Soon it will all be revealed. For now, I’ve decided to give you a few clues:
– it involves free alcohol.
– it involves sex (I’m using this term INCREDIBLY loosely here. Not necessarily the act, but the idea in general.)
– it involves strangers.
I hope that gets your brains ticking enough.

In other news, today I wore this cute little H&M wrap dress I haven’t worn in a million years because I’ve never been much of a dress girl and I can’t even remember why I bought it in the first place. Well I wore it (after repairing a button on the inside and effectively dropping my deodorant on it this morning. cute.) and was complimented by my coworkers, per usual when I wear a skirt. I think the kicker was I wore a dress to distract them from the fact my hair is a hot mess (I think I slept on it weird) but, ugh, per usual, my breasts were more distracting than the dress itself. Well friends, lets just say everyone was really nice to me today, even the women, and a baby at the cafe was fascinated by me. (Yeah, even babies like my tits.)

Somedays I question if I’d have a chance in this world if I didn’t have them. I don’t take these puppies for granted… they’ve gotten me far in the world (oof. but true.) and they’ve also hindered me from participating in golf, tennis, and archery – which I’m actually pretty good at (tennis to) but I look absolutely ridiculous. I’m on the edge of being a 2 sports bra sort of girl. Sigh.

I talk about my tits way too much. Whatever. Like you care.

On a friendlier note, I would like to give a big ol wave to a new acquaintance Anderson Evans who writes a blog that I just discovered this morning and wish I had the time to read more of instead of doing work. The oddest part of the entire thing is that I unexpectedly received a facebook email from him this morning asking if it was actually my blog he was reading. What? I have readers? Who in their right mind… Well Anderson, here’s your big break: all 40 of my daily readers (WHAT? why would you do that to yourself?) will hopefully check you out tonight and laugh as hard as I did at your last few posts. He’s much more articulate than I am, and quite frankly, funnier. In fact, you should probably stop reading my blog and start reading his. I joke. Please don’t stop reading. It makes my day to see my stats rise. I mean… whatever.

To all the other masochists readers, thanks for tuning in. It blows my mind that anyone finds this ish entertaining and it’s always nice to hear from you. Especially when you tell me I’m right. I like being right. It makes me like you when you think I’m right. Because you are right, I am right, so we all get along, right?

Thank the fucking baby Jesus that it’s FRIDAY. I’m working overtime, but that means I get some more hours towards my vacation days at the end of the summer. I am very excited about that. Yes indeedy.

I just wrote a big paragraph about Michael Jackson dying and then I erased it because I was either going to get shot for writing it, or everyone was gonna skip that paragraph. All I really have to say is that James Brown was probably just as influential an entertainer and didn’t get nearly the exiting reception that Mikey got. Sure, he was a bit crazy too, but people weren’t talking shit about him up until the day he died. I’m done talking about it forever now. Seriously. Unless you ask me about my Michael Jackson = Elvis theory, and then I’ll talk your ear off.

AAAAAAAND SCENE.

I’m beginning to settle in my own mind. By force.

It’s like shoving something through cheesecloth, you know? Trying to get all the juice out so all that’s left is this pulpy garbage you don’t know what to do with.

That pulp is my brain, see? Getting it? No? Maybe? Who fucking cares anymore. Does any of this really matter?

Not really.

I left the house this morning unintentionally dressed as a Hasidic Jewish woman. How did I dress, you ask?

See the woman on the right? Yeah. That’s me. No. No it isn’t. But I literally wore a long dark wool coat, black tights, black flats, and a scarf. Multiple people brought this to my attention. It was my attempt at dressing conservatively for work, but the minute I took off the jacket it was a green skirt and boobs so it’s not like it was all day. I even made an attempt at buying $20 slave labor heels at Forever 21 in an attempt to look less… uh… stereotypical (?) when I went out for drinks with someone from craigslist.

Yes. That’s the second heavy hitter of the night. I had drinks with someone I met on craigslist.

I suppose it’s more complicated than that. And to put it simply, it was A drink. Not drinks. He was several ahead of me and while he has to walk his dog and maybe study for the LSATs, I have to go to another day at Zina’s, which ain’t so bad when you calculate:

Working at Zina’s / (pay x hours) > studying x (amount of money NOT being made x hours spent studying)

Although there’s a whole separate formula about the downsides of working at Zina’s but I don’t want to cry so I’m not going to get into that.

And here’s another thought:
are we all gonna look back on our college years/early adulthood when we’re parents and tell our kids how we were part of the first few generations of facebook and twitter, like how my dad is like “I was in charge of running the computer at school. There was one computer.” You know. Like 1970s style giant computer that in the movies would have lots of lights and talk. They just don’t make em like that anymore.

And DOS. Anyone else remember DOS?! I remember trying to trick DOS with my sister, and let’s face it, I had a fairly good understanding of DOS for a 7 year old or whatever. That and our printer at the time used those big stacks of paper that were perforated on the sides and had holes kind of like film it was real neat.

I don’t remember where any of this is going but I kiiiiiiinda like it.

And on a personal note (for those of you kind of following along): I feel like I’ve completely given up on the romance. Romance in my life at this point is deader than roadkill or that steak tartar that Martha Stewart tweeted about (yes, Martha is on my tweet feed. DUH.) I feel like I’ve hit that brick wall that is screaming “settle down you old hag” and then I remember I’m 21 and should probably be out getting drunk every night but then I feel like a grandma and go to bed at like midnight because I can’t stay out with you crazy kids anymore.

And the winner for run-on sentences and award for person who has probably offended Hasidic Jews* with this post goes to….

(*just for the record, I love Jews. If you know me, you know this. Don’t be an asshole and tell me how offensive I am because I’m sure somebody is making a joke about how they accidently dressed as an immature 21 year old this morning.)

P.S. Alex Peters, you make my brain orgasm with your words. Always ❤

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…

#1073

August 26, 2008

I kept thinking of you today. I couldn’t remember why. It hasn’t been long since I last saw you.
Then, as I began to pack my belongings, I remembered you again. How? I knew this time. By scent. My clothes gave off your aroma. The clean ones. You smelled like my laundry. My fresh laundry, just out from the dryer.

“We must use the same detergent.” What a simple explanation.
Something I never realized, as I was trying a new detergent. I inhaled and placed things in my suitcase;
I remember what it’s like in your arms. You tasted slightly like cigarettes and cheap booze, but I couldn’t taste the difference between yours and mine. You smell safe. You feel safe.

But I’m living on the edge and I can’t be safe in your arms any more.
I have places to go and things to achieve and I’m not going to stop my life for a man, a boy, a relationship, a person. God! It’s like asking me to stop my life, at this pivotal, crucial state of being, and… have a child or something! Give up my life for someone else. I am self absorbed and focused on my success, and I will only look back, never go back, for you.

But only you. A time in my life only to reflect on. Never to live there again.

You are lost in the shuffle, King of Hearts. I am back in the present.
Clean laundry packed, I have hidden you away.

Drive.

May 19, 2008

I have a bad habit when I’m driving. I guess it happens when I’m in a car, but I label it as bad habit while driving because it is often distracting and mind-consuming…

You know when there’s roadkill on the side of the road, or a random towel or trash bag, or item that just doesn’t make sense? I have to notice these things. I have to mentally register what they are in my mind and check the review mirror as I pass to confirm that’s what it was. It isn’t a compulsion by any means, but just a natural reaction. I caught myself seriously doing it while I was on I-5 today driving from my mom’s house to my dad. I noticed I was actually making a list of these things and mentally repeating them back to myself; almost playing a memory game with myself.
Example:
“Coat.”
“Coat. Dead kitten.”
“Coat. Dead kitten. Tire.”
“Coat. Dead kitten. Tire. Unidentified roadkill remains.”
“Coat. Dead kitten. Tire. Unidentified roadkill remains. Discarded rope.”
You get the idea.

However, when you’re driving at 80 mph the speed limit, which of course is 65, noting these things, repeating the ones you’ve seen in the past, and making sure you’ve identified the object correctly is thoroughly distracting.

So next time you’re driving and you blame someone for being careless because you think they’re talking on their cell phone, just consider that maybe they’re reliving seeing that dead kitten on the side of the road for the 8th time in the past 2 hours.

Sweet dreams.

Got a fortune cookie tonight that spoke to me:

“Life always gets harder near the summit.”

P.S. This one goes out to a special witness of a recent stabbing. I would start a “cupcake of the month” club for you if I could.

Accomplishments

May 9, 2008

Film:
Finished “Paris, Je t’aime” (finally). I thought it was a really beautiful film. For those of you who have seen it, the last story really spoke to me – the one with the woman who goes to Paris by herself and the entire voice over is like an essay she wrote for her french class. The weak pronunciation, the jilted speech patterns, and the tourist short pants, fanny pack, and white tennis shoes. The whole film was a really glorious piece of work, and I’m very curious to see if “New York, I Love You” ruins the concept or paints the portrait of New York by New Yorkers that Parisians painted of Paris. I highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it.

TV: Finished disk 1 of “Weeds” Season 2. It feels like FOREVER since I’ve seen Season 1, but the ideas are still as funny an interesting as it once was. I’m having a little trouble with the DEA theme, and I think they should have considered the long-term effects of it before introducing it to the storyline. It’s going to be difficult to write out if they decide to. (For those of you keeping up, don’t tell me how if they do it. I’ll find out eventually…)

Books:
Finished “Fuck Up” by Arthur Nersesian. Really great, but not for everyone. It’s the story of this guy where things just keep getting shittier and shittier. Basically it’s a “what can go wrong will go wrong” and even the things you don’t think will go wrong, will get worse. It’s such a nitty-gritty 90s New York. Reading another one of this books “The Swing Voter of Staten Island”. Oh go figure, another book about New York.

Apartment:
Swept. Dusted. Swiffered. Started dishes. Paid rent. Grocery shopped. You know. Keeping busy.

I don’t know what I’m doing with my life anymore and I can only focus on tomorrow. I suppose I just count the hours until I go to sleep again, and start the timer over when I wake up again. It’s a pretty sad existence, but if that’s what it takes to get through the day right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.

I’m watching Magnolia. It’s the part with the frogs. I have no idea what’s going on in this movie anymore.

It reminded me of this random association I have with Julianne Moore. I don’t know why but I think of Laura Linney every time I see her, and every time I see Laura Linney, I see Catherine O’Hara.

I thought I would do some photo representations of celebrities I mentally associate with one another. Ready?


Julianna Moore, Laura Linney and Catherine O’Hara


Ben Stein, Eugene Levy, and Groucho Marx


Sean Astin and Seth Rogan

That’s all for today. If I think of more, I’ll post.

God, what is up with the raining frogs? What is up with this movie? Maybe I should have been paying closer attention from the beginning.

Duh?

May 6, 2008

Was I the only person in the world that didn’t know Chuck Palanuik was gay? I mean, not that it matters, but I was reading “The Avdocate” in the waiting room today and there was an article talking about his mysterious sexuality and then he confirmed he was gay.

Whatevers. I just didn’t know, or have any idea. It’s not like there’s “writer gadar” or anything.