sharing the wealth

i got this a long time ago from my brother, but i just watched it again and it never stops being funny. make sure all music is off and the volume is up. hi-fucking-larious.

http://img39.echo.cx/img39/8444/tomcruisekillsoprahmedprog6tl.swf

you're welcome.

Bear

driving home tonight i had the windows down. to get home i have to drive past these really foul farms. i appreciate fertilizer as much as the next person, but those bastards are noxious. which is weird considering i grew up in a neighborhood downwind from a cow pasture. anyway, i'm driving and the air was fairly warm and stank. it felt like i was driving in the mouth of my dog.

Goat's birthday

1 strawberry daiquiri
4 cosmos
1 lemon drop shot

really, that's all it takes to make me social. last night was Goat's birthday and i had a great time. mainly because Sarah was there, but then Janice showed up and that was even better. there seem to be three types of girls that populate this area:
1: the more reserved, "let sit and talk and nurse my beer" girls
2: the put some music on and dance and be silly girls
3: hoes.

Janice, Sarah, and I are of the second variety. we're not going home with strange men and we're not quite dancing on tables. we do like to dance and let loose. unfortunately, because most of the other people we socialize with are of the first variety, i don't really get along with them. what can i say? i don't want to talk about work. perhaps the three of us were just meant for a club. there are people who are just built that way, i guess.

so, i had a great time. i think i was an asshole at one point, but whatever. there's this girl that i try to like, but just can't. anyway, she and this other girl and a friend of mine were standing around talking, nursing a beer, when i popped over and said, "whatcha talking about?" she told some story that i don't remember. i remember looking at my friend and asking, "was that an oooh sch-nap?" he said yes. she said something else, but i didn't get it so i turned to my friend and asked, "was that supposed to be funny?" i really wasn't trying to be an asshole...it just comes so naturally. really, i wasn't making a dig, i just didn't get what she was saying. so, realizing what i'd done, i slinked back to my fold of friends.

that guy confuses me. a little while after he showed up he came over to say hi and comment on my drunken-ness. then he went back into his Noho clique. i came over and said hi and promptly made an ass out of myself and left. i went over one more time and "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" came on and i sang and did some ho-down dance while he played the air fiddle. that was really funny, but then he left without saying goodbye. i don't know. we seem to be moderately good friends, but i don't get him. God knows, he barely acknowledges me when his clique is around. i don't understand. i guess maybe i'm a little confused as to how good of friends we are. he's moving at the end of this month, and i think, in the end, i'll be one of those people who was "cool enough," but not someone he'll keep in touch with. come to think of it, i'm not even that, because we don't hang out. even in social settings, he's clear across the room. i certainly don't expect him to make some big production about saying goodbye to me, but it's only good manners to do the broad sweep goodbyes. i don't know. sometimes it feels like we're friends, but other times i think it's all in my head. i think, mostly, the common denominator in his clique is weed. i suppose i should take a certain amount of comfort in knowing that it's who we are that brings us together, instead of outside forces, but that's cold comfort when he disappears.

i think what gets me the most is that the last time we all went out he commented on my standoffishness. so, i tried to be more social. we, at least, had some sort of interaction this time, but that's so lame. when it's just the two of us, we have a great time, but in a crowd...well that's a different story. i'm not into that. history will never repeat itself. well, unless he bounces, i'll be moving to where he's going in a year or two. clearly now is not the time for a friendship with him. maybe there'll never be a time. fucking Vegas, man.

aside from that, i had a great time. actually, including that, i had a great time. at least i know. Sarah, Janice, and I had fun dancing to songs and laughing. oh, it was so good. i even wore a skirt. i couldn't find the shirt i wanted to wear, but the one i had one wasn't that bad. by the end of the night i was knocking people out with my curls, though. those bastards had grown exponentially. at one point, Sarah and I were at the bar and Janice came in. there was this guy sitting there talking to us and he had the most incredibly clear blue eyes. he was really cute, but those eyes were amazing. we went back later, but he'd gone...of course. i love those people. those people who in a moment make this huge impression for no real reason. i'll probably remember him longer than most of my co-workers.

pound for pound it was a good night.

the truth shall set you free

i did not like Napoleon Dynamite. i don't know why. there are certain parts that i can appreciate, certainly the dance sequence at the end was hilarious, but on the whole i didn't much care for it. i guess it's one of those movies where i can see how other people would find it funny, i just didn't. to tell the complete truth, i nodded off a couple of times during it. i just wasn't that impressed.

perhaps more than anything, i just don't understand how it's been this crazy cultural phenomenon. i bought some cds today and saw some Napoleon Dynamite playing cards. i don't know. maybe it wasn't that funny because i'm not one to get hung up on high school. i didn't have the worse high school experience, but it certainly had its...complications. i was certainly ready to get the fuck out of there, but that was mainly due to the fact that i just couldn't live in that town anymore. so, that had less to do with the high school itself and more to do with my depleting tolerance for truly insane people.

maybe i missed something. it made me laugh, sometimes out loud, but i'm not walking around quoting it. i guess i'm just funny like that.

4 hours later

i've been on the phone, literally, all night. having my own apartment seriously feeds the 13year old girl inside. no one to share the phone with and call waiting. i can talk until i'm hoarse and never miss a call. that's a good look.

so, i've been talking to Andrea all night. she and i go through these inseparable moments followed my months of silence. i'm certainly good for falling off the face of the earth. the longest i've been MIA is 4 years. generally, i'll go a month or two without talking to people. it's nothing against anybody, i just need to crawl into my cave and chill out sometimes. so, Andrea and i are coming out of a month and a half silence. we'd leave the occasional message on each others answering machines, but not really get back up with each other.

anyway, tonight was a lot of fun. we watched So You Think You Can Dance? together. that was entertaining. then we talked about gossip and boys and everything you can imagine. we ended out with an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. she loves that show. i'm growing a distinct appreciation for it. she's been wanting me to watch it for a long time. i never really got around to it, and then, when i did, the episodes weren't that funny. i still had a hard time believing that i wouldn't find something she found hilarious, at least, funny. the more i watch it the more i realize it's like Sifl and Olly. that show is fucking hysterical. however, it has certain episodes that are stoner genius, others that are funny, and some that are ok. i'm beginning to really like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. i keep buying her the episodes and mailing them to her at these random times. presents are so much better when they're for no reason at all. with every season i send her, i send her a plush character. Newberry Comics has the plush for sale. it works out well. there are three characters and three seasons.

anyway, so she and i are on the phone and just cracking each other up. around 10:30pm i hear a light knocking at the door. i look out the peep hole and guess who it is. yup, Mufasa. this guy is impervious to hints. it's retarded. i thought i made it perfectly clear that i don't like, in fact pointedly detest, for people to just drop by. i don't want random knocks on the door unless it's the neighbor looking for some sugar or UPS with a package. so, at that point, i'm sitting around the house in my wife-beater and underwear on. i put some pants on and then realize...just because you knock doesn't mean i have to answer. i know you can hear me talking. i know you see the lights on and the car parked outside. i know and understand all of these things. however, the fact still remains that this is my apartment and i will open the door and answer the phone at my convenience. so, i let him knock. what the fuck do i care? all the while, i'm on the phone. it was hilarious.

at one point she said, "wait a minute. that's what i was going to say...you've been really happy this past week. then i remembered that [my ex] was out of town." we laughed and i told her that i have another week left and that it's been so splendid not to see him and his "Pity-Me," dejected face.

i dig that Andrea may very well be the only person who completely knows me. she's the only person who can anticipate my thoughts and moves and totally understand my motives...even when they're warped and retarded. i also dig that she's one of the few who can call me out. she can tell me i'm being silly/irrational/retarded/overly sensitive. i like that. i've known her since i was 16. she's been with me through the worst moment in my life. she knows who i was, before, and who i am now. we had this falling out and didn't talk for three years. circumstances forced us together and we've been inseparable ever since. a lot of people, after all was said and done, either didn't understand or couldn't accept that i was no longer the same. Andrea understood that i wasn't the same and has accepted me and my metamorphosis. she knows how my mind works and my insecurities and hang-ups. it's really nice. the best are the moments when either she or i will say something that causes the other to emphatically say, "that's why you're my girl!"

i like my personal hiatuses. it affords me four hour phone calls talking about everything and nothing at all.

dress code

"whyn't you pull your shoes up?"

old man crush

one of the best benefits to having an older guy crushing on you is that he keeps the guys my age in check. there's this guy, John, who lives around me and i see him all of the time sitting under this tree across the parking lot from me. he's really nice and, you know, it's nice to wave hi and bye to someone. i have so few pleasant, casual interactions with people. so, i like John.

i came home from work today in a weird mood. i think partially because i've been needing to write Ann for a long time. anytime i've gone too long without contact, i always feel that i'm letting Shawn down somehow. so, i'm a little stressed about that, but in a good way. i love Ann, i'm just sucking at keeping in touch. i'm also a little stressed out because my tags expire in less than a week and my dad is leaving the country in two days and i haven't gotten my new stickers from the DMV. this is really a problem if they mail them to my dad's after fri., because there won't be anyone to send them to me for a month. plus, my dad puts his mail on hold, so i can't even have any of my friends pick them up and the send them.

but, i digress.

so, i get out of my car and start to walk up to my mailbox. as i'm coming back, there are about 6 guys sitting out there ranging from 15-50yrs. old. so, i'm walking by and wave hi. the lot of us exchange pleasantries and one of the guys, who's about my age, asks me if i'm Puerto Rican (my hair is a big, curly mess, so it's a fair question). i say no and say i'm mixed and then he asks me if i have a boyfriend. i tell him no. almost in unison, all the guys there let out this "oh really?!" sound. i laugh and keep walking. the guys starts to say something else and i hear John tell the guy, "easy, now." i dig that. i like how John's affection for me keeps the other guys in check.

the guy was cute and then it occured to me that i'm only single because i choose to be. granted, there is one guy i'm particularly interested in, but i know he's not really into me. besides, i mostly want to make out with him. the more i interact with him the more i realize just how high and dense his walls are. he's so guarded. i understand, i am too. that's why i lie all of the time. the good news is that he does all of the things i either did or still do to keep people at a distance. so, at least i can recognize it.

he's the only one i'm really interested in. he's what i want. i can have a great mulitude of things. i could stop typing this blog, walk 20 feet and get a boyfriend. plus, lest we forget the ever-so-determined Mufasa. so, it's not that i can't. i just don't. i don't know, maybe i could do with a dose of fun.

i have a million things going on in my head right now, completely unrelated to boys. perhaps i should be thinking about a million and one.

poverty is its own reward

i was talking with my dad tonight and he told me that our house was broken into today, while he was at work. now, this is no great feat for the burglar seeing as how my dad keeps the downstairs door unlocked. in fact, the best way to tell if a stranger is at the house is if they knock on the front door. the front door, i believe, is almost completely overgrown with trees, at point. so, if you knock, i don't know you.

the idea of burglary in my neighborhood is bordering on retarded...primarily because we live way the fuck out. to the north of us is a farm and a huge pasture of cows. beyond that? the great prairies of the Midwest...i'm not exaggerating; only farms and random pockets of houses. it's a nice neighborhood; your standard upper-middle class, raised-ranch houses sitting on about on acre of land each. it's a fairly small neighborhood, maybe 30 houses. recently, though, there have been lots of developments in the area. behind my neighbors house is the lake we swam in as kids, and there used to be nothing but woods on the other side. now, there's this whole new development of tacky, cookie-cutter houses. sort of sucks. more importantly, at least to this story, is the road from Indian Hills. Indian Hills is this neighborhood of better off niggas. not well off, but have a bit more money to move out of the center of town. it's still mostly apartment buildings and run down two bedroom houses and such. perhaps in search of quicker routes, the county built a road leading from Indian Hills to close to my neighborhood. niggerish activities , inspired by boredom, no doubt, followed.

it was so fucked up, too, because you knew it was people from Indian Hills, since almost all of the houses buffering my neighborhood had been hit. so, you have this nice, pretty road leading niggas to a fair amount of wealth. luckily, we are not one of those wealthy. we have stuff, but nothing to steal. i guess, if you're in the market for soviet pins and matroshkis, you're in luck. if you want some 1970's furniture and paintings of icons, fucking score. if you want something that will, i don't know, yield a profit, forget it.

anyway, admittedly, my friend, Cathy-whose mother still lives up the street-, told Papa that there were reports of break-ins and that he'd be well advised to start locking the doors. locking doors, physically or metaphorically, is not a very Heermancian thing to do. come to think of it, i think one time when he was out of the country he had left the deck door open.

my dad comes home from work today with the Boone county police across the street. he's curious, but pulls into the driveway. he notices that the downstairs door is slightly ajar. it's a sliding door, so he figured he'd closed it too hard and it bounced back a bit. he sees some soda by the door, but thought he forgot it when he took out the recycling. he goes into the downstairs area and notices the light on. now he knows there's something amiss. thing is, there was nothing missing. i guess if they wanted to lug the 300lbs tv from downstairs out, they were more than welcome. i live up here and he's either at work, playing tennis, or out of the country. still investigating, he goes upstairs and at the end of the hallway is a bunch of his tapes. yes, i said it...tapes. yea, his tape collection is, miraculously, still intact.

while my dad is telling me all of this, he's laughing...as am i. my dad is not a very high-tech guy. he doesn't own gadgets and when he comes home, he heads right for his room, turns on a game, puts some hamburger on the stove, and lamps out for the rest on the night. there's no computer in the house. there are no dvds, or a player, for that matter. i have a vcr hooked up to my tv downstairs, but that's it. lots of icons, though.

the part that made me laugh the most was the sodas. dad went back downstairs and picked up the box of sodas and realized they were still fairly cold. so, apparently, the burglars started to steal, what? soda? and abandoned them. what made me laugh the most out of that was that i know the heat of my dad's house. my dad doesn't use the central air hardly at all. when i'm home, he does...er, more to the point...i do. he had turned it on in preparation for a visit from my brother, but he flew back to NYC yesterday, so my dad turned it off. there has also been this massive heatwave blanketing the Midwest. the other day it was 103 degrees in MO. that's 103 actual degrees, i think the heat index was 115 or something. there're heat advisories all over the place and Habitat for Humanity has a place for people without air to go and have a program for renting air conditioners. it's no fucking joke; kids, elderly, and animals shouldn't even be outside.

so, here you have these fools "breaking" into my dad's open house and realize that it's hotter inside than it is outside. finding nothing from the 21st century, they look for something to drink before the die of heat exhaustion in this sweltering house. clearly not finding the booty of 7-UPs satisfactory (or maybe the energy exerted in carrying it was more than the cool, refreshing reward) they abandon it at the door and moved onto cooler, more lucrative destinations.

it was so funny listening to my dad talk about this as he chuckled through his tale. i think we were both mostly laughing at how much of a waste of time it was for them to even bother with our house. we're not ones to be married to things. well, we are, but it's not things of importance to anyone else. we just laughed because we know the content of our house...and now so do some thirsty fools.

last night

last night i went to dinner at Sarah's house. it was so much fun. all together it was five of us and i was there for, maybe, five hours and at no point did i want to run away. it was a good look. a couple of people stopped by and i wasn't all weird and twitchy...in fact, i was rather charming. i had a really good time. at one point, i walked over to her and said, "it's almost like i have friends." she started laughing. she and i both have the same fish-out-of-water problem living up here, which makes our relationship so good. she's the only female friend i have up here and one of very few that i'm actually friends with...she's not just "cool enough." i just felt really comfortable and relaxed last night.

it was a good day. before i went over there, i was on three-way with my girls. we were on the phone for a couple of hours engaging on our usual ridiculous behaviour. then i left to go to dinner. she lives pretty far out, but it was a gorgeous day, yesterday, and the drive was so beautiful. i don't like living here, but i love the scenery.

i've found that i'm only comfortable around five people up here. four were at dinner last night and the other one is a bit of a mystery. he's very cool and i like him tremendously. we, actually, don't do all that well in groups, but one-on-one i'm completely at ease with him.

i'm so excited about the fall. Sarah is moving closer to me, and we've already discussed having dinners and hanging out more often. i'm starting to feel more relaxed and like i've more a niche. it's a good look.

sweet blessed freedom

my ex is leaving town! oh yea! he's going on vacation and he's taking his girlfriend with him. sweet mother of Jesus, I'm excited. after tomorrow i won't have to see either one of them for a week and a half. oh man. i'm stoked. i'm not all torn up like i used to be over him and the situation. he's still a piece of shit bastard, and i don't like him nor do i want him around me, but that's purely for aesthetic reason. the thing is that since this whole thing started, months ago, i haven't had a break from it or them. it's been a non-stop barrage of inconsideration and ignobility. this is going to be so glorious.

i was talking to my friend and she asked where they were going. my response:
"I don't know, but if they need gas money, I've got $20."

what the fuck?

it is amazingly hot in my apartment. you'd think with it being a basement apartment and all it'd be a bit cooler. what the fuck? i walked in the door and started sweating. it's humid as a mutherfucker outside, too. everything in my place is damp. it's sort of nasty. i thought MO had bad humidity. it does, but it's drier, if that makes any sense. up here, it's humid and there's a cool, dampness to it. i guess back at home it's more stagnant air. this air is like a womb. clearly i need to buy another fan or three.

i think i'm going to take a midnight swim. i'm wicked tired, but i'm also really hot. plus, i've only been swimming three times this summer. that's completely unacceptable. i have to get up early tomorrow and doubt i'll swim in the morning. there's a full moon out and i think it'd be nice to gaze up at the sky while doing a backstroke. good times.

the up shot of all of this humidity is that i'm saving loads on lotion. who needs lotion if your skin never dries out?

christian

i had this dream last night about Christian Bale. i never dream about celebrities, but he's so hot. apparently, he's really artistic. i dreamt that he was in a band and was a really good artist. he made me this elaborate pop-up book. i don't know why. it wasn't a kinky or erotic dream, or anything. we just hung out and made out a bit. in my dream he was really tall, like 7 feet tall. he was still gorgeous and funny.

the best part, aside from the actual making out, was this barely touching my lips kiss he did. oh, Christian, how i love thee.

Some People Who Could Have Died In The Latest Harry Potter, But Didn't

(this is a guest blog)

1. The students at Hogwart's sister school, Sowlesions
2. Many of the lesser known magical creatures, such as the leperchaun, the minotard, and the weed-smoking hippiegriff
3. Alan Rowling, an abusive muggle father who is unappreciative of his talented daughter's writing skills, and who is mutilated by Dementors before being anally raped in Azkaban
4. More European Jews
5. Not Dumbledore

Mufasa

i'm not kidding. that's his name. this guy is a joke. i met him about a year ago. i kept seeing him around my neighborhood and he was really cute. one day we talked and i invited him over. this is where the fun began. it must have been 4pm or so. i asked him if he wanted something to drink. i had water, juice, soda, and, jokingly said, raspberry twist vodka. he chose the vodka. not only did he choose the vodka, but he chose a glass of it. not some type of short bar glass, either. i'm talking i drink milk out of that size glass, and i love milk. so, we're hanging out, listening to music and we were talking about our favorite songs. his favorite song of all time was Sean Paul's "I'm Still In Love With You." now, i'm not saying that wasn't true. generally, though, peoples' favorite songs have meant something to them for a very long time. Sean Paul was hot last summer. hey, that's cool, if that's your favorite song then that's your favorite song.

he said he was a poet. i doubt that. at one point, there was song playing and he tried to free-style a poem.

[here's a question for guys:why do you do things that make us have to save your face? you really should have a general idea as to what will make you look like an ass in the end.]

the poetry session didn't go well...primarily because he was just drinking this glass of vodka. oh, side note, in the course of him drinking the raspberry vodka, he breath became HOT. he was sitting next to me, with an appropriate distance, and i could smell it every time he opened his mouth. it was NOT a good look. we got through all of that. i made him this cd and then was searching desperately for a way to get this man out of my apartment. i think i lied and said i had errands to run. so, we walked out and i was about to leave. that's when he leaned in for a kiss.

living up here i have become a seasoned professional at dodging kisses. what makes it so bad is that i love kissing. making out is one of my favorite hobbies. i've been underwhelmed with the men and their steeze up here.

so, he leaves...unrequited. i never saw him again after that. i think he may have tried to call me a couple of times. oh, yea, i remember in either his first or second message he announced himself as "me." i don't know you. we're not friends. after awhile he stopped calling. i was comfortable with that.

i'm at home yesterday and there's a knock on my door. i look in the peephole and swore it was a woman, so i opened the door. guess who? he had long dreads...i should've looked harder. what am i going to do? i had already opened the door. so, i invited him in. we talked for awhile and he kept slipping in how good i looked. i kept changing the subject and dodging the topic. he asked me if i had a boyfriend and i said no, but that i was talking to somebody. i really do hate lying, but what was i supposed to do? in the interest in helping me out, i guess, he tried to explain the best approach for men and women to get together. his solution: mess around until true feelings come out and then move on from there. right. of course, his "advice" was amidst "damn you look good" and "you got those cute dimples" and, my favorite,"have you ever modeled? you got that natural beauty that doesn't need any makeup." seriously. why me?

so, i, clearly, was not taking his advice on relationships seriously. the bad thing is that i kept talking about this guy that i'm "talking to." i chose a friend of mine that i genuinely have fun with. i thought it'd be more convincing if i had individual stories to tell and my face actually lit up when i talked about him. so, making it very clear that i'm very interested in someone else, good old Mufasa was not deterred. he then proceeded to ask me for a kiss. he said how the last time we talked he wanted to kiss me, but wasn't sure and decided to come back because he'd never know if he didn't try. granted, that's true. when he was done rambling around the point, i looked at him and asked, "are you asking me?" he said yes. i said no. i mean, are you kidding me? as far as he knows i'm seeing someone and you're going to ask me for a kiss? nah.

he was reminiscing, i guess, of our one day together and he said he remembered that i was "picky." i told him i liked to call them standards. i'm not very compromising with them.

OH, i forgot the best part. when he arrived at my place around 3:30pm he had a half drunk beer in his hands and while he's trying to hit on me, he's slurring his words. classy. sorry, i'm so "picky." i require just a little more from men. come correct or not at all, playboy.

you know, that's why i don't date niggas anymore. niggerish activities. how are you going to show up at some girls house drunk and try to convince her to leave alone some guy she likes for your drunk ass? crazy talk.

so, i told him i had to get ready for work. it was 4pm and i had to be at work at 6:45pm. ah well. as he's leaving he asks me for my cell phone number. getting rid of my cell phone has been inconvenient at times, but so useful at other times. i told him i didn't have it on...which was true. he asked if i minded if sometimes, when he saw my car, he came over. i said i did mind. i don't like people just dropping in. you have to call first. oooh, and you don't have my number, sch-nap! i expect he'll try to stop by a couple of more times before i have to really shut him down. i'm hoping he gets my hints.

oh, yea, and he kept talking about how he was on "vacation." he never said where and i haven't seen him in about a year. i can only assume it was that "iron vacation." niggas.

the employment of reason at this point would be well advised.

the employment of logical deduction would behoove you, as well. so, my ex talked to me yesterday. it was weird. he was trying to be casual about it, like we, i don't know, talk at all. i was minding my own business and he turns to me and shows me this book about cures for hangovers. i was literally stunned. i wasn't mad or sad or any actual emotion other than perplexed. it would be like one day i call my mom and the cat answers the phone, but in that Brian kind of way. the actual encounter wouldn't incur an overwhelming emotion, you'd just be confused. so, that was what happened. i looked at him and said, "i don't get hangovers. i guess that's God's little gift to me." he said something like he didn't either, but the whole time i'm thinking, "what is this? why are you talking to me?" i mean, he can't possibly think that we'll be even remotely friendly ever again in life. i haven't the patience for this. well, that's not true. i certainly don't have the will to entertain it. i gave him his chance and he got flip with me. i hope he didn't think he could earn or wrangle another chance out of me. i'm a not a very forgiving person. he should bloody well know that by now.

the only thing i can think of is that he heard my boss had a job interview. now, my ex, for all intent and purposes, is sort of next in line for that job. that would leave me working my entire shift across from a man i don't like making eye contact with. now, knowing that the position may be opening up and the fact that i'm the only other person back there, it's sort of important to have me on your side. i told management that:1. i will never want that job and 2. i'd better have a say as to who my next boss is. i'm tired of carrying everything. so, i honestly think that my ex attempted to talk to me to see where i stood and whether or not i'd approve of him being my manager.

and for that i have one thing to say: you must be joking.

i say this for a couple of reasons. first of all, it would King Putz of the land of the Putzs for him to try to make nice with me and try to smooth over things he wasn't willing to before for a job that would have him opposite of me. all of a sudden he's willing to talk and try to rebuild something that has, quite clearly, burned down to the ground for the sake of buttering me up for a job he wants. i think what my dear ex forgets is that any point in my time in MA i can very easily get him fired. so very and irrevocably fired. that was why his ass was begging me on the phone to allow him to handle everything...which he then proceeded to do nothing of which i asked of him... and was, what?, surprised i didn't want to have anything to do with him? talk about taking being obtuse to an unprecedented level.

secondly, though he is a good worker and would do a good job, why would he think that i'd grant him anything beneficial to his livelihood? i'll cockblock this shit on general principle. because i fucking can.

the recurring theme in our arguments was concession. i had conceded so much, and tolerated way more than i should have and he had done almost nothing. neither had his girlfriend. all i asked was to keep themselves and their relationship away from me. i had sucked up so much and that was all i asked. sure it sucks. sure it means that someone else, aside from her, comes to the back for things. sure, it means that when you see me coming you go the other way or keep an appropriate distance. since none of this was my fault, i didn't think that that was too much to ask. so, what happens? she comes back all of the time and they make no effort, whatsoever, to respect me or my feelings. now, i can certainly understand not wanting your ex to dictate the terms of your relationship with your new girlfriend, but you know what? you fucked up. he tried so hard to convince me that he didn't mean to hurt me and that he'd do everything he could to make this right with me. all i asked for was consideration, respect, and distance. those bastards are 0 for 3. why, exactly, should i help him? right.

now, i could be completely wrong about this job thing and would love nothing more to be proven wrong. it would be a refreshing change of pace for him to stop being a selfish dick and really encourage that nice, considerate man i let in my bed out. i try to believe in the perfectibility of man and the inherent good in people. he's disproving my beliefs all over the place. i don't think i'm wrong about this job thing. i hope i am, but i don't think so.

my brain still reels from how completely off the mark i was with him. i've made some bad calls before, but this is the emotionally retarded gift that keeps on giving.

so, my friend is having a birthday party tomorrow. now, we all know each other, but she and i are clearly very close. so, this other girl (who i try so hard to like, but can't) asked my ex if he was going to her party. my friend, of course, hadn't told him. he implied that his feelings were hurt for not being invited. again, i ask, is he joking?

we'll disregard the sense of entitlement that runs rampant around here. i've made my annoyance on that type of mentality perfectly clear.

everytime people got together and invited him out he'd almost never show up. when he did, he'd only stay for an hour or two. when that's your m.o., people stop inviting you. why should they? if all you ever say is no, why ask? more importantly, though, why would you possibly think you'd be invited. i hate to pull the "cool kid" card, but i think i have to. she and i are close. obviously, i've told her about everything. why would she invite someone that would almost certainly ruin my night? i don't give a shit how long they've known each other. the fact is that she and i are closer and she will always side with me.

now, i've never been one to make people choose between friends. i told her to invite him if she wanted. i'd show up either way. i'm not going to let his bitch ass keep from doing anything. it's just so ridiculous. i'm clearly closer to everyone, at least 25+. why on earth would he imagine that they'd include him in anything after the way he's treated me? my friends don't like what he did and, clearly, don't want him around. it was extremely shortsighted on his part to imagine that he'd escape from this unscathed. he made his choice. not even concerning girlfriends, but he made his decision concerning his social life once he treated me so horribly. again, i'd never tell anyone to not invite him, but, truth be told, no one wants to be around someone who has treated their friend so callously.

even though i hate it up here and want to leave and don't feel overwhelmingly close to many people here, i'm very loyal. loyalty inspires loyalty in return. i may be stand-offish and difficult to know, but you can always count on me for support. i just don't hang out much. that integrity makes all of the difference. he lacks it. the sad thing is that he doesn't know it.

a long time ago, my ex and i had a discussion about the word "friendship." it was clear that we have completely opposite ideas as to what that word means. his "friends" only call when they need something. his "boys" once had a party and either didn't tell him or had it on a night they knew he worked. those are not friends. my definition of friendship is very strict and there are people i've known for years who haven't made the cut. the number one requirement i have for my friends is loyalty. my friends don't play me out. my friends don't disregard me. more importantly, an infraction on one is an infraction on all. my girl and i are so protective of each other...even when we're fighting and can't stand each other. i get it because i give it. no one treats my friends with anything other than respect. no one looks at them sideways or come out of pocket with them. up here, it's not that intense, but the idea is still there. i don't expect anyone to ride or die with me, but i know who my friends are and who aren't. i have, maybe, three.

unfortunately for my ex, Sarah is #1 of the three.

self-imposed decriptors are the worst

"The handsome and ravishin1 young man from Mass"

that was the description this guy had on his MySpace account. you can't call yourself "ravishing." there are certain things that can only come from other people. descriptors like that certainly tops the list. also, nicknames. you can't call yourself something and expect it to be respected. Jay-Z is the king of this. He's been J, Jigga, Hove, Hova, J-Hova, the Kid,Young, the list just goes on. you just can't give yourself a nickname. althoughk, sometimes it works out, but it's really rare. the only person i can think of that could get away with it was Old Dirty Bastard, a.k.a. Old Dirty, Big Baby Jesus, and (my personal favoirte)Dirt McGirt. really, the only way he got away with it is because he was not only a member of the Wu-Tang clan (and them niggas ain't nothing to fuck wit) but he was crazy. i don't think i'm betraying any confidence or speaking ill of the dead in saying that. that mutherfucker was crazy and a fool. you just had to recognize he was a fool and that you love him, though.

a friend of mine started calling me Shotsey...and for very good reason. i thought it was hilarious. he tried to convince me that i gave the nickname to myself and begged him all night to call me that. granted, i was really fucking drunk, but i wasn't sloppy that night. so, not only did i remember the night and know full well i didn't say that, primarily because i loathe when people do it. i was quite certain i was not an offender of my own societal law.

roasted Pam

how can Comedy Central have a roast of Pamela Anderson when she's not, oh, how shall i put this, funny? i don't remember the last time she acted in...anything. I mean, Ted Danson hasn't acted much either, but he had a number of very funny shows. well, Becker wasn't funny and sort of had the actors' kiss of death by being on CBS, but I mean, Pamela had what? Baywatch? Oh, hilarious. Stripperella? I think they were misunderstanding what the raucous laughter was aimed at.

i think it's safe to say that there are only two reasons she's being roasted, and if that's all they've got then they need to roast her plastic surgeon.

life and respect

i was asked something today that i'd never really been asked before. i was asked what i wanted to do, in life. it wasn't the question. it was the way it was asked. it was asked as though i could do anything i wanted.

i know my gifts and my limitations. i know what i want to do. i've just never, really, thought i could do what i wanted. all i really want to do is take pictures. in a perfect world, i'd work for National Geographic as a photographer. it would marry my two great loves in life: traveling and photography. it's funny, when he asked me, i didn't say that. i said my usual answers: law and teaching at-risk youth. i really don't want to do either, but i feel compelled by my dad to do something that matters, that contributes back to society. photography doesn't really do that. it does, but not in the same way as working with kids does.

when i was younger, my great ambition was to create a school for inner city kids that taught law at the elementary level. i do think it's important that law be taught to kids, especially inner city kids, since they're the ones who have to deal with police most, from such an early age. the main snag i hit in that plan: i don't like cities. sort of a problem. i'm a country girl, through and through. i like my sprawling, grassy land. i like my wide, open skies. most importantly, i like my peace. i like the country. i appreciate what cities have to offer, but i need silence and calm. God knows, i'm bouncing off the walls all day, anyway, so i need to be able to come home and just be still. so, living in a city is probably the worse thing i could do to myself. that's most of the logic behind my move to New Haven. close enough to the city for it not to be a trek, but enough parks and grass to ease my country heart. so, i abandoned the school idea, once i recognized that about myself.

it's been ingrained so deeply in my mind that art isn't practical and that my life should be given to a noble cause. i do believe that. my dad has also stressed using your mind. you should never have a job that revolves around physical labor, because the body gets old and tired. your mind works forever, and if you keep it sharp enough, it can stay sharp for...well, at least, a lot longer than your hands. i know i'm smart. i know i'm, actually, really smart and quick, i just don't use it much. i always thought that i should use my mind to help people. i want to do something great and amazing with my life...even if it's only amazing to me. who knows? maybe photography could teach. maybe it could help people. i've just never been raised to believe that.

i was sort of thrown for a loop when i was talking to him. he made everything i said sound so obvious and possible. it was funny. i've never really experienced that. this guy is so funny. he smells my bullshit before i even know it's coming out of me. it's really...refreshing, actually. when i was talking about working with at-risk kids, instead of the normal "oh, yea, that great. that's good work" response, he looked at me and said, "have you ever worked with at-risk kids?" i know i don't want to spend my life trying to teach some bad-ass kids and deal with their piece of shit parents for the rest of my life...and so does he. i gave that answer because it usually shuts people up. it's so self-sacrificing and honorable that no one really argues it. he did. i respect that.

sometimes that man makes me want to sneak into his window, at night, and stab him in the eyeball with a fork. most of the time, though, i'm so grateful he's in my life. he commands a respect that i've only seen one other time and he challenges me...much of the time it's my patience...but i wouldn't have him any other way (well, maybe coupled with a well placed bruise or three). i could never tell him, though. the man lacks humility and i'd never hear the end of it. i definitely think that he's the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time. he has rapidly become one of my simple pleasures in life...even though all we do is harass each other... and i delight in his company.

wow. all of that being said, i guess it's a good thing i never gave him my URL.

tweaky

i'm such a tweaked out person. in my last blog i wrote how the blog before it was "whining" when i meant to write "whiny." seriously, it's been gnawing at me all day. this is my curse: the daughter of an English professor.

bah!

what a self-indulgent, whining blog. yea, sorry about that. that was wack. i mean, worse things have happened to me...a lot worse. actually, nothing bad has even happened. i guess i'm trying to brace myself for being forgotten. that's my fundamental problem, lack of faith. i'm have so much more reserve and strength than that. this place has got me all turned around and fucked up. i think the self-loathing in the water and the puritanical air is going to my head. so lame. i did my internal inventory a long time ago and i know my worth. i have to get out of here.

my apologies.

ah, reality, you bastard.

my brain believes things it knows are not true. it sees things that aren't there. it twists and distorts words and actions to mold them into something that's not real. i know that. things that wonderful and perfect do not happen to people like me. i've always known that. i guess, just for a little while, i wanted to believe in something good...something extraodinary.

it's sad when you know that you'll never have the one thing you want...not surprising, but sad.

Who's Mike Jones?

Mike Jones sucks on an exasperating level.

I remember back den, most of them hoes couldn't stand me
But now them same hoes beggin me to pull down they panties
A couple of 'em said I was cute but I was just too chubby
Same size a year later the same hoes wanna fuck me
Because they see me paid, pimpin pens, workin my jelly
And I ain't trippin cause my pockets stick out mo' than my belly

from,"Back Then"

i hate you.

'Tiefy made my quote board!

me: "what's the difference between "devoid" and "void?"
Atief: "i don't know...pretension."

As Marvin Rogers said, "don't commence what you can begin."

top 5

Top 5 guys I want to make out with:

1. Christian Bale
2. Jaime Foxx
3. Johnny Depp
4. Adrian Brody
5. Diego Luna

3 Alternates

1. John Cusack
2. Jeremy Pivens
3. Maurice Bernard

the girl in the cafe

there's this movie i keep watching on HBO. it's called Girl in the Cafe. it stars Bill Nighy and Kelly Macdonald. it's this really sweet, sad, and awkward movie about a civil servant who meets this...you guessed it...girl in a cafe. he's real shy and yielding. there are scenes in the beginning where he is walking, reading a report, and, as he's moving forward, looking down, he's side-stepping people to get out of their way. his speech mirrors his stride. he stammers and contradicts himself in the middle of his own sentence. it's hard to watch someone who lacks so much confidence, but is so lonely.

anyway, she quiet and shy, but not in the same way. she's not as awkward and seems to understand him. eventually, after a few dates, he invites her to go with him to the G-8 conference. she says yes and you see the blossoming of their uneasy, yet sweet relationship. throughout the rest of the movie she, at really inopportune moments, asks about the proceedings and if they, the world leaders she's mingling with, are doing enough. this, obviously, doesn't set well with them and eventually she's asked to leave. so the man has to, essentially, choose between this woman he's just met, but has the chance for something great with, or his job, which up until this point has been the only thing in his life.

it's a really poignant movie about love, moral responsibility, and courage. i really liked it. normally, i don't watch relatively depressing movies a lot...life has that shit covered in technicolor, but this movie is different somehow. it's a sad and somber movie, but it's also really funny and hopeful. i know it sounds corny, but it's worth seeing.

the thing i like most about the movie is the soundtrack. it has just a few songs, but one of them is Damien Rices' "Cold Water." i love that song. it is so simple and quiet. the voices are so meloncholic and beautiful. it's heartbreaking. everytime i hear that song i just want to cry. the chorus is "Lord, can you hear me now?/ or am I lost." the song, and, actually, a lot of his music puts me in the space that is very contemplative and quiet. i really like it. unbelievable as it may seem, i really enjoy being silent and cogitative.

come to think of it, this movie is very much in the same vein of Dreaming of Joseph Lees.

always an adventure

them bitches make me sick. they're lucky i love them...and i don't have any other friends...because i'd bounce. i would.

my girls are a mess. i include myself in that. i give myself no special privileges or exceptions just because i'm making the observation. the whole lot of us are ridiculous.

last night i went to New Haven to see Faith Evans in concert at the Foxwoods, which is this casino. Cuz, who lives in the Elm, bought the tickets. now, Cuz had been there one time a long time ago, but that was more than the rest of us. she said that it takes about 45 min to get there. i'm thinking that's not that bad. what she fails to remember...or call information in a more timely fashion than as we're walking out of the door...is that it's 45min highway driving. actually, it was more than that, but i'm gonna let that slide. to her credit, she did say that we should leave at 7pm to be there for the 9pm show. that, however, was not consistent with her earlier claim of 45min and certainly wasn't consistent with her lollygagging.

so, we're heading out to the car and i ask her if she has the direction. she opens her phone and says, "i'm getting them right now." o.k. i'm a very easygoing person. you wouldn't know it through my life in western MA, but i'm a very whichever-way-the-wind-blows sort of girl. that being said, there are certain instances where i require a lot of structure. driving at night, in uncharted territory to destination "we're working on it" is one of those times. i tried to take into consideration that i travel more than she does. so, for me, i have directions and ETAs three days or more before i have to leave. now, should something fuck up along the way, so be it, but at least have the basics covered. anyway, so Cuz is on the phone and she writes down to get off of exit 92. "92? there is no 92," i think. that is, of course, unless we're not talking about I-91, but I-95 and in that case we are at exit 47 and the concert is starting in less than an hour. crazy talk.

there was a small debate as to who would drive. it was overwhelmingly decided that, especially in the interest of time, that i would drive. also, Cuz has totaled two cars and i think her car keeps trying to play her out with the "check engine" light. i don't know why she offered. it's a well established fact that i live at 85mph, plus i've never totaled a car.

i'm a little pissed, but that's mainly because i have, literally, been on the road all day. i left my place at 11am when Nisey came and then we drove down to the Elm. around 3pm Nisey and I head down to the Boogie Down to scoop up the Sandjes, who was, of course, late as hell. so, we get back to the Elm around 6pm just in time to take showers and get beautified. so, to find out that i'm going to be highway driving for an hour on some half-assed directions is not making me a happy camper. i am, however, with my girls, so i'm definitely not crusty. just slightly annoyed.

we're driving and having a good time in the car. it was a long ass drive into the deep woods. we're driving and we pass exit 92. Sandje says, "we're we supposed to get off at exit 92?"
Cuz: "no. it was exit 95."
(we drive past exit 92, then 93 and then hit the Rhode Island boarder)
Me: "Why the fuck are in Rhode Island?"
Cuz: " I don't know. she (the woman at Foxwoods) said it was exit 95."
Me: "Get the directions out."
(Cuz pulls them out)
Cuz: "Oh. yea. it's 92."
Me:"What the fuck. O.K. call the woman back and make sure you have the right directions."
Cuz:(indignantly) "These are the directions. this is what she said."
Me:"Well, how far is the Foxwoods from the highway?"
Cuz:"She didn't say. she just said we'd see signs."
Me:"Well, call her back and make her give you directions. giving directions is all she has to do. she can't withhold the information from you. make her tell you exactly how far the casino is from the highway. i need to know if it's right off the highway, whether we can see it, or if he have to drive 20min. to get there."

Cuz calls and the casino is 8.5 miles from the highway. by this point, it's safe to say that the lot of us are getting pretty crusty. i'm getting crusty with Cuz because she's being really flaky and ineffective. by the time we got to the concert we heard all of four songs before it was over. yup. an hour of driving for 10min. of a show.

i felt really bad for Sandje, because she loves Faith. she always have. so, it must've really sucked for get there at the ass-end of it. i don't think i made anything better with my insufferable optimism saying, "well, at least you got see her and heard a couple of the songs you wanted to hear." that kind of shit never works. so, Sandje starts yelling at Cuz and i'm putting my two cents in and it was getting really ugly. Cuz was deflecting responsibility like she had Wonder Woman wristbands on, which was only making things worse. the really good thing about all of us is that we get worked up and get pissed off, but we get over it fairly quickly. so, 15 min. later, i'm making my amends with Cuz by cashing in some money and giving her quarters for the slot machines (which she won $15 from).

by the time we made it to the car, Sandje had a few drinks and was good, and the rest of us had just let it go. the ride back was fairly long. Sandje stayed up with me and we talked while Nisey and Cuz were sleeping in the back. it was good. we got back to the Elm and watched some VH1 soul and make fun of a Chico DeBarge video and passed out...well, at least i did.

on the ride back i said, "well, ladies, it wasn't perfect, but it certainly was an adventure."

i've been feeling really good lately. i'm a bit on edge for various reasons, but that's fine. i think i've almost completely rid my life of my ex...thank the Heavens and all of the saints. he's reached mosquito status. you generally don't remember he's around until he flies in your ear and then you just swat him away. he sort of got on my nerves the other day with his general lack of maturity, respect, and class combined. then i realized, much like a child, that even bad attention is still attention and i'm not interested in him or his silly games. he has no place in my life...not even as an annoyance. so, that's that.

everything has been good. i'm really nervous about a number of things. lots of it is in anticipation of things to come. i don't know how any of them will work out, if any at all, but i'm really hopeful. it's been a dangerously long time since i've looked forward to something...anything. for years, i've been playing it safe...well, my version of safe. i was talking with Andrea and she pointed out that what i'm afraid of the most is to take that leap. she's totally right. my leaps have fallen terribly short of my target. for a long time, i just stopped getting up.

i feel different. changed. hopeful.

[hey! i just found my stupid birth control pills. i lost these fuckers two days ago. i had spares, but they were running out and i had no idea where i put them. it doesn't really matter since i'm not sleeping with anyone, but still.]

i have all of these plans and i'm really excited about them. there's one major obstacle that needs to be overcome to get the rest of the plans on their way, but i'm optimistic. i'm really looking forward to moving. i've been wanting to get out of here for such a long time, but i've never known where i wanted to go. now that i've got a relatively permanent place in mind, i'm ready to do what needs to be done to accomplish what i want to accomplish. it's going to be rigorous. it's going to be complicated and hard. luckily, i thrive in those kinds of situations. i'm going to have to focus. i have almost no room for error. the stakes are really high, but if it all pans out in the end, it's going to be so worth it.

i guess, in a way, my ex did me a huge favor. because he was such a fucked up individual, i have almost no inclination to date. certainly not in this area. fuck all that. i feel too insecure and vulnerable to subject myself onto someone. i'm really no good. if there was a chance of something, i would want to come to it with more to offer than what i have. i'd want to come to it a better person. once i move to New Haven i will certainly be more inclined to date. the fact of the matter is that it doesn't really matter who comes along, right now, my ex fucked my head up so much that i'd only not trust in the relationship and find a way to sabotage it. it would be such a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity because of the baggage i have yet to shed. on the bright side, i'll be so focused on everything else that i wouldn't be able to maintain a relationship. so, i guess that's the plus.

i'm just really nervous. definitely a good nervous...but i kind of want to throw up.

oh the joys

i've always lived in a house. well, one time, when i was 6, i lived in a quadraplex with my mom. i think we lived there for a couple of years. in any case, i've always lived in a house. it's such a strange thing for me to have neighbors all around me. i live in a basement apartment, which i actually like. it's dark, but that makes it better for mid-day naps and shit. it has really good space, especially for a single person. it also helps that my heat and hot water are included in my rent. so, that's a plus in a place that has winter 9 months out of the year. it's my little haven.

the funniest thing about living in this place are the public fights. i'm not a public display sort of person...especially if it's an arguement. you can fume all the way home, or argue in the car, but that shit absolutely does not get discussed in the open. so, sometimes, i'll be sitting in my apartment and start hearing yells and people cussing. it's also funny because my windows are ground level so some people tend to lose sight of the fact that there's someone down there. they'll come out of the building on the phone or something and stand right next to my window and talk about shit i don't want to hear.

last week i was cooking for a BBQ and there was this little girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old, who kept looking in my window. i didn't mind. i really like kids and encourage healthy curiosity. it was hilarious. she ust kept coming back to the window. sometimes it took her parent a couple of seconds to realize what she was doing, but what are you going to do? i mean, she's 4 and watching someone woman dance around her kitchen in her apron and cooking. i can understand the fascination.

it's just a werid experience. i'm used to being at my dads. we live in a neighborhood so we see our neighbors, but they're either across the street or across our acre backyard. it's a place where you either just wave or have to actually yell hello. i'm used to going out on our deck that's almost completely masked by trees and stargazing at the huge midwestern sky or sunbathing topless in the merciless, summer heat. sitting in my room and playing my music as loud as i want and dancing and singing around the house in complete privacy. no one looking in your windows. no one complaining about noise. no one paying hardly any attention to you. that's how i like it.

on the upside, it's very cool seeing kids playing outside my window laughing and screaming as they do. when i first moved here, i was annoyed that first summer because they would hide right next to my window. it doesn't totally thrill me now, but i'd rather listen to kids play and be kids than to have some young girl outside of my window with her screaming baby.

i'm looking forward to moving. well, first out of this bastard area, but also to a different place. there's no guarantee i won't move into another place like this, but when i moved here i was halfway across the country and did it almost completely online. it's sort of hard to apartment hunt when you live 1200 miles away. my next move will be just 100 mi. or so away, so that'll be easier. plus i have a friend who lives there so she can help me. i can't wait to move and i'm so excited for all things non-western MA to come in my life.

it's certainly been an experience living here. God knows i won't miss it, though.

dream

i had this dream last night that i was supposed to kill R. Kelly. i'm not kidding. i was in this apartment building that was connected to the concert hall. i think it was my mom who gave me the bat i was supposed to beat him to death with. i decided that that wasn't ideal and went home to my [i'm gonna say it] baretta. i'm trying to hide it from my mom, because, apparently, in dreamland, it's fine to plot the murder someone, but owning a gun is morally reprehensible. i had it in my pocket and there was a distince bluge in my jacket pocket. we were walking up the staris and my mom asked me what the lump was. so, in that motherly tone, quietly, yet sternly, told me that it was unacceptable. i went home and put the gun back.

so, i go to the concert and am backstage. i suppose i had a retractable bat, because you couldn't see it. it was a really large backstage area, with lots of people. there were couches on stage and people just lounging around listening to the music. at one point, everyone from one couch got up and left. i can't imagine why. i guess they thought his music was, oh, i don't know, bullshit. so, i thought about going over and lamping out on stage. then i thought, "well, seeing as how i was originally planning to kill this man, it may not be such a good idea to go out on stage infront of thousands of people. then i noticed this line. i think he was having girls come on stage or something. i got in line. however, the reason for me going was to dance. once i realized that i was losing sight of my mission i got out of line. it becasue increasingly clear that i wasn't going to be able to kill R. Kelly tonight. then my boyfriend showed up. i don't remember who he was but i remember his tousled hair and the back of his neck. there was a lot of purple going on. i think he was wearing something purple. his ex girlfriend was back stage and that caused static for .2, but it was cool. we were backstage slow dancing to the music [which is where the back of his head comes into play]. we were just holding each other and dancing as i caressed his neck with my fingernails.

then my brother called and woke me up. se va.

insomnia

it's not clinical insomnia...i don't think. i'm not up for days or anything. i'm just up for no reason until reality starts to blur. it's getting old. i haven't had a good night sleep in over a week. i've been really busy, granted. i've had a lot to do in little time. this is getting ridiculous. this used to happen in high school. i've never been able to routinely sleep consistently through the night. my dad's the same way. when i'd go to sleep, i would say goodnight and that i'd see him in a few hours. that's just how we are. the only time i get through the night is when i'd go to bed around 2am to get up at 6 or 7. this would go on for weeks until i had a "crash weekend." i'd sleep for 15 hours straight. i figure that'll happen at some point, but i don't know when. the other suck thing is that i'm determined to get the fuck out of this po' dunk town as often as possible, which means i stay on the move. so, the fact that i've been out of town every weekend for about a month in a half can't help perpetuate good sleep habits.

i wonder what the difference is between an insomniac and a night owl. i know i'm a night owl. i'm the most productive at night and have the best creative ideas in the dead of night. i don't do well with lots of distractions, so the still of night is ideal for me to concentrate. i also think, since it's so late, that my creativity is sparked because i'm bordering on a state of delirium which opens the mental floodgates and God only knows what comes out. everytime it's great fun. my brain is such a weird place that it's remarkable, in the morning, when i'm reviewing the night befores' work what i came up with. i'm alone a lot and, i think, after being quiet and alone for 6 hours the societal constraints slip away which lends itself to free, independent thought. the downside of that is that most of which i write at night never sees the light of day...which is a shame, because i'm damn funny, really weird, but funny.

i think i'm ready for bed. it's 2:15am and i'm really tired. i think i'm going to fall back on my tried and true solution: classical music. i'm so Pavlovian with it. my dad used to put me to sleep with it since i was a baby and it's worked ever since. tonight i'm working out a little Allegri's Miserere. it has choral singing in it, but their voices really are just another instrument and it's all soothing.

wish me luck.

something outside smells like Velveeta.

just leave it alone

somethings should just be left alone...like mozzarella cheese. i went grocery shopping the other day and bought some cheese. i like my pasta. so, i made some spinach and ricotta tortellini. i had a nice Sockarooni sauce on it. i was ready to go. i sprinkled some cheese over my piping hot pasta so it could melt its cheesy goodness all over my dinner. i picked off a shred of cheese and ate it. it was fucking nasty. i love mozzarella cheese. most people do. it was just...ugh. then i looked at the package. i had accidentally picked up Kraft Free cheese. fat free. what the fuck is the point of that?

it's like when i made this red velvet cake and it called for buttermilk. i went to the store and they had fat free buttermilk. it just seems wrong. i, of course, didn't buy it, but it seemed a silly idea. especially, since ingredients like that are meant to add flavor to a dish and fat free things are notoriously flavorless...well, they're not exactly flavorless, they just deeply stray from the original intent for the palate. somethings you realize are not the healthiest things to eat, but you figure you'll swim an extra lap or two if only to eat that which may be fattening, but is thoroughly delicious.

anyway, the damage had been done. there was now this nasty-ass cheese oozing its ruinous, fat-free flavor all over my tortellini. i choked down, maybe, a third of it before i had to just leave it alone.

bastards.

i wish

i wish my eyes were polaroid cameras and they printed out of my mouth. that way, when i saw something funny, i could have evidence.

i wish i could go to the BET awards with a 31 tesla-powered magnetic dress on.

i wish the tips of my fingers tasted like jolly ranchers.

i wish life had a remote control so i could mute people and fast forward the lame parts.

i wish i could sing like Vivian Green.

i wish i could find a place around here to stargaze.

i wish they weren't teasing me with these twenty-threes and these dvds. it ain't right. then they pass me by and have the nerve to wonder why...i be robbing these niggas. i'm a stick up kid.

that girl

i read something tonight that was really beautiful. for a split second, i allowed myself to imagine it was about me. your run-of-the-mill girl fantasy. obviously, it wasn't, but one day i want to be that girl. i want to be that girl that men openly declare...something other than eternal friendship or contempt for. i want to be that girl always on his mind. i want to be that girl he can't get enough of. that girl who makes him laugh three days later in the middle of the cereal aisle. the recipient of discreet, yet shameless affection. i want to be that girl he delights in. i don't know how i become that girl. maybe it just takes him really seeing me. maybe i have to move to find it. all i know is that one day i want to be that girl those incredible words were for.

sort of like christmas

i went to bed at 4:30am. my girls and i are having a BBQ in New Haven today and i'm so excited. there are a few reason for this, but the main one is that i get to hang out with all my girls. we always have such a good time. i'm such a shameless fan of my friends. not that everyone doesn't like their friends, but they are really an exceptional group of women. i am so honored to have them in my life.

i was up baking and cooking until 2:30am or so, then did a little laundry. i know i'm crazy. i made cake and tried to work out my moms' potato salad. i'm certainly not the best cook, but the recipe makes so much, that i never get a chance to make it. i mean, what the fuck am i going to do with a big ass pot of potato salad? so, that was cool. making the cake was fun because i got to use my sifter and wear my apron. it's little things like that that get me going.

anyway, so i went to bed damn near 5am and my eyes just popped open at 9:10am. i heard something, but generally i'd be so tired i'd just fall back to sleep. nope. i'm fucking up. of course, my head is swimming with all of the things i want to do. i just want this to be good. a friend of mine is coming with me and he's meeting everybody, so i really want him to have a good time, as well. i'm still working on getting my brother down, so that would suck a little if he didn't come.

dancing. eating. laughing. drinking. my girls. i think it actually is christmas in july.

Luther

Luther Vandross died today.

i'm so sad. normally, i'm not that connected to, really, anything celebrities do, but it's Luther. i've been listening to him for most of the night. in all honesty, a lot of his songs got on my nerves, but when he got it right, it was spot on. i'm currently listening to "Here and Now," talk about a song that defines weddings. it's so beautiful. he is just amazing. his silky voice wraps you in a soft blanket of love and just warms the soul. i don't care if you don't like classic R&B. anyone who doesn't, at least, have a healthy appreciation for the man and his talent, aside from clearly lacking a soul, has no idea what it's like to have a song, a voice, truly fill you up. you can dissect the lyrics or talk about the musical compostion, but you'd be completely missing the point. i know nothing about arrangements or anything technical. what i do know is that his voice makes me feel safe.

i do know that i feel like crying.

he's just one of those people. the content of your day becomes irrelevant when he comes on. it sounds cheesy to call him soothing, but he is. i know it's naive to think he'd be around forever. i certainly know that nothing is promised, but he was 54 and ever since i've known music, i've known Luther.

i remember, back at home, on 88.9 they'd have Classic Soul Sundays. i used to go to Cathy's house and listen to it. i could've listened to it at home, but classic soul isn't really my dads' strong point. a healthy dose of America or Jackson Browne, he's your man. he certainly loved Stevie, but it's not the same thing. so, i would walk up the street, five houses up, and hang out with Cathy with Peaches and Cream on in the livingroom. it was great. i remember listening to "Here and Now." we would put it on out mixed tapes on repeat and just dream to it. we would listen to it over and over again. at 14, girls have this idea of what love will be like. Luther was all of those things. he was open. he was shameless affection. he was smooth. he said the right things. he was sincerity.

at 27, i know the ugly side of too many things, but Luther was just...Luther.

Luther is lying in the dark with your head next to the radio singing like your 14yr old heart knows exactly what he's talking about.
Luther is every "slow jams" mixed tape
Luther is Midnight Love on 88.9
Luther is tenderness

Luther is love.

revelation of the day

waking up before my alarm just shows me how conditioned I am to a shitty lifestyle.