I was going to throw together a list of shit I wanted to do in 2009 but frankly I have no clue and cobbling something together I don't want to stick to feels a little disingenuous. My life is adrift on the open ocean, and although there's plenty of things it would be nice to do (visit Ryan in Phoenix, lose 20 pounds, buy a new couch, lock up a boyfriend, do charity work, take the series 7, etc.etc.), I'm not sure that I can make myself write a list of possibilities that truly excite and don't exhaust me.
I just want to keep going as healthy, happy, and fa bo lo us as I've been able to maintain thus far. No getting pink eye; but lots and lots of eyeliner. Keeping heartbreak to a minimal. No leaving anything of value in cabs or having them destroyed by strangers. No mice. No putting up with bad decisions, toxic people or financial mistakes. Thus:
Goals in 2009
- Keep it real
and we'll see what we can do.
Back to the Duff Zone. Enjoy NYE chipchips, and take comfort knowing my ass will be nowhere near Times Square.
What was the bravest thing you did in 2008?
Submitted by TheFiercestCalm. (me and FC)
- Quit the job that made me hate everything and everyone
- Took a job in an industry I was completely unfamiliar with and unqualified for (with a boss that yells, oh the yelling)
- Moved across a river to a new apartment, new town, new commute
- Made it through an unexpected layover in Detroit without being stabbed in the face
- Went to the prom and didn't throw up
- Got an implant
- Fell in love
- Fell out of love
- (Mustered the self esteem to know the difference between 'love' and 'convenience')
- Addressed my anxiety
- Addressed my ADD (with drugs)
- Joined a gym
- (almost more importantly) Learned not to hate myself when I didn't go
- Turned 22 for the second time
- Drank
- Bought grownup clothes
- Grew out my hair
- Dealt with mouse corpses all on my own
Dear 2008:
Thanks for all the awesome. Tell 2009 it better keep up the streak, or else.
"It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air." ~W.T. Ellis
How are you celebrating Christmas this year?
Documenting. Flickr knows what's up.
Today I FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY get to go to the dermatologist. I've never had skin so bad before in my entire life, including all throughout puberty and it's been especially quiet since I got my Mirena. It's turned into this horrible combination of too dry and scaly (around my eyes, often causing them to swell up) and too greasy (causing perpetually gross pimples). It's absolute misery. 3:45PM below Madison Square Park. I can't freakin' wait. Maybe I'll finally be able to go to sleep without vaseline gradually seeping into my eyes. See to the right? Miserable skin even with makeup, a flash, and flattering lighting. Fuck, man.
Christmas gifts amassed sofar:
Dudeboss gave me an elaborate Tea Tasting Kit (ohai, I really don't like tea and you've never ever seen me drink it. But thanks for playing) that I'm going to re-gift to my childhood nanny and previously acknowledged bonus. I gave him a hug. He was pretty happy about the hug; I think. I'm going to put together a set of new photos of him and his kid in his office for when he gets back after the holiday. Every parent loves pictures of them and their stupid kid, no matter how god damned stupid they are.
But actually, I've been emailing back and forth with his wife to get the pictures. The only time I'd met her she rubbed me absolutely the wrong way, especially since this was the first time she was meeting the girl that runs her husband's life, but it seems like I may've just caught her at the wrong moment (spending all day on a yacht aside the Intrepid; seems like a possibility). She's really funny and nice and sends me inappropriately long emails; but, I appreciate her inappropriate writing to me -ness. He brags about how wordly she is, and yet she's locked up in a big ol' house in Nowhere, CT all day. I bought her Christmas present for him, wrapped them, made sure they all got there on time. Merry Christmas, Liza; love, Charlie 5-0. Oh, and your husband's credit card.
Ladyboss gave me a $100 gift card to Sephora and a Michael Kors zebra wallet. She officially made up for the 7 and a half hours of a day that she irritates the living fuck out of me. I got her a Himalyan salt tea candle holder that's supposed to help with allergies. I felt a little bad when I got her gift to me today since hers was only $20, but I have to remind myself she does make SIX TIMES MORE than I do. Ho hum.
Tonight I exchange gifts with TA (the book "The Neverending Story", a Star Wars Mr. Potatohead and a 200 set of personal business cards) and then tomorrow with J2 (Neverending Story + giant Domo doll). I have not had a worthwhile Christmas gift from a boy in...years. years and years. So the pressure is on with these two. TA and I are going to finish shopping together tonight for our respective families in Times Square. Pray for us.
Friday's Jingle Ball at Jess and Liz's went over pretty well all things considered, "all things" being the rain, sleet, hail
Parties iz parties, y'all, so I don't have a ton of stories and of course forgot my camera so I have to wait until people Fbook any pictures with my smiling face in them. But I was very popular in a green dress, matching red sweater and apron with cherries on them to help make the pumpkin smores (while toasting the marshmallows with a heat gun. They came out nice and delicious and only partially full of asbestos!). Me to Jessica: "I forgot my jingle bell earrings! And by forgot I mean forgot to purchase them."
FUN FACT
As of Thursday of last week it was impossible to buy a Christmas
sweater in Manhattan. Although there had been racks and racks of them a
week before in K-mart, I spent an obscene amount of time (read, four
hours plus) trying to find one at both K-Marts and Filene's Basement. I
even sadly parsed through racks upon racks of Loony Toones nightshirts
hoping there would be one stuck somewhere, but sadly it was all snowman
turtlenecks. You can't wear a mom turtleneck ironically or sexily.
That's not funny. That's just a turtleneck; and that's just sad.
I spent the rest of the weekend laying on Jessica's couch and watching Summer Heights High with her, pacing around my house, laying on my couch, laying on my couch and watching everything available on HBO on Demand. On Sunday I braved the three and a half inches of ice on ALL Hoboken sidewalks to take a picture of some of
Back to work. And by "back" I mean "I should really get around to starting" work.
Wait, that's now how it works. How it works is that I spent all morning trying to glue my two kind-of monocles back together, tape them back together, pray for them to go back together, and when they didn't work just put my head down on my desk and cry. Or as close to crying as I get. Which is mostly just sighing heavily and complaining to anyone around me who will listen.
Shout out to Lensecrafter's flagship store on 5th Avenue who cut these bitches in 2 hot hours and were really nice about them and took $100 off and they were still roughly $300 more than I was planning or hoped to spend. So...Merry Christmas, asshole on the bus. I know what you look like. Kind of.
I know three people that have been laid off this month; so I suppose I'm in the bracket now where those statistics on economic downturns do immediately affect the people around me. I'm lucky to still have a job, and I'm lucky to still have the kind of job where I'll go down with the ship; and I'm lucky to have a boss that still gave me a year-end bonus even when our deals didn't close and I'd gotten to the point where I was unable to disguise my open contempt for the idiots around me and the idiot work I'd have to do to pick up after them.
I love the holidays. I wish I could love them like I used to when I was a kid, but I'm working on it.
For your listening please, "You Shook Me All Noel."
I left my (unsynched) Blackberry in a cab. The driver checked the cab and there was nothing there. Oh god fucking dammit.
And thus concludes Monday.
Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Things I've Said I Wanted for Christmas:
--A pair of high calf fake Uggs (Fuggs) since the wind blows through my sneakers on the walk to work. I WILL NOT TUCK MY PANTS INTO THEM. Promise
--A new pair of work shoes (the same black pumps that I buy once a year and wear until the heels are uneven from the weird way I distribute my weight)
--A new filigree style mirror for the hall by the front door
--A coffee maker (not a French press)
--I'm so fucking boring.
Things I Need To Stop Being So Horrifyingly Obsessed Over:
--Octopuses. See:
I have on and off again heart attacks about getting my bedroom into some sort of shape where it looks more decorated and less like the shit I own threw up all over the place, so I'm hoping the big octopus will help me move a step into the right direction. Next I'll choose some kitschy fabric to have curtains made
Tonight I go shopping at K-Mart for the Christmas sweatervest that I need for this weekend's holiday parties and try to actually round out the day getting some work done while listening to the new Britney album on repeat to memorize the words in time for the March (!!) concert. Pfffffft.
Edit:
gabe: i feel like your addiction to horribly bad taste has to come from some unresolved conflict in your early part of your life
And if you'll excuse me, I now have to think about that hot dude from Twilight while getting my shit done.
What is it about a tiny sweater that makes you feel more naked than no sweater at all?
Every once in awhile during the work day my brain spazs and says "DO SOMETHING CREATIVE". I think it means write on Vox, but I'm not even sure anymore. Instead I generally read my neighborhood, but it's been so incredibly quiet lately. I need to go on an adding people binge. The community heyday seems to be gradually creeping away.
I'm not sure what to say. I'm so busy, and so overwhelmed. We're closing on a minimum of a million dollars on a worldwide coal gasification mine consolodation play. It's been hard to get stuff done and I'm absolutely overwhelmed by paper. In the meantime the auditors are working on the oil rig close and I keep needing to produce mountains of documents and keep researching SPACs. And also all the other business that goes into running a B/D and running my life. Hi, I'm really just tired and running on coffee these days.
Social calendar:
Monday, apartments with Joan in Alphabet City, teriyaki dinner boxes in Chinatown. I am coming to love Joan in a big way, and certainly not in a way that I was ever able to in high school. I keep trying to tell her how much I like and appreciate her. It's a weird thing to feel very inclined to say, and I don't know how to broach it. I do in weird ways and she accepts in weird ways. I hope the apartment thing works out.
Tuesday, "Let the Right One In" and dinner at Bamboleo with TA. This was the first time that we'd really spent a significant amount of time with one another, probably since our first date. He works two jobs; the weekend one starts at noon and the weekday one ends at 10. I'm not sure how we got lucky tonight, but he is FUN. He refuses to admit that he likes me. He's a mixed messanger and it's causing me low level stress not knowing wtf is going on. I'm giving him until the end of January, which will have been four-ish months seeing one another. He has to say it. He has to say nice things about me once in awhile, that's just how this works. I'm not going to play these weird games anymore.
Wednesday, dinner at Bamboleo with TA + watching 3rd season episodes of the IT Crowd and kicking myself for not having episodes of Frisky Dingo ready in advance. He's growing on me as well; and although he's kind of irritating to talk to (not...really smart. And doesn't....entirely listen. Kind of is perched waiting to talk as I speak, which drives me insane, and gives too much detail and tells stories too long, which I'm trying to train him out of), he is incredibly endearing. I feel stuff for him. I'm so into him but I'm way too smart for him.
Thursday, "Twilight" with Suze at Lincoln Center + dinner (?). I know literally nothing about Twilight except it's about vampires, abstinence and it's a teen sensation. I love teen sensations! I can't wait!
Friday: emptying the DVR with Stacy L Dunn (LDunn)
Saturday, craft fair at the Knitting Factory with Liz and Stacy, brunch and an afternoon of apartments with Joan
Sunday on the couch in Sunset Park
Do you know how fast this happens? I book up literally in the first three hours of Monday. It's insane that my life is like this anymore, and I wish I were writing it all down better. No new dates, blah. No new drama with Wikipedia, blah. No more talking to him, I've decided, with the hope that we might get together. SaveallthedramaforsomeothermamacauseI'mjustababyIreallydon'twanna. I got an invitation to the baby shower for Keysha, or as you may remember her as my sassy coworker at the job from fucking hell. We chatted on the phone for a little while a bit ago. She's going to have a boy at the end of January, and I absolutely cannot wait to go to the shower. Blah blah blah, genuinely happy, blah blah.
How do people live like this? Where am I inside that schedule? And I'm actively looking for a third boy to pick up and date regularly. What am I thinking? What am I doing?
Um, holla? Also, I got us tickets to see Britney Spears at the Pru Center on 3/13. BRITNEY FUCKING SPEARS. I'm pretty excited. $50 is a delicious price to pay for a decade old running trainwreck with the Pussycat Dolls opening. I've never been to a big crazy pop concert like this and I can't wait.
Haven't gotten any great new music lately. Frankly I've put music on hold until the new Fall Out Boy on 12/16. Nothing else thrills me. New Britney sounds too much like old stuff I've already heard and new Kanye is just...well, autotune? Wtf? Lock Lockdown works but not as much as I'd like. I am listening to some good stuff, Brendan Canning and Matt Yorke and Monte Negro with some tracks that I'd love to share but I just don't have the wherewithall for it.
I feel like I have no energy anymore. I keep thinking about times when I had more energy. I think I should get to bed before 2AM. I think I should take my vitamins. I think I should eat better. I can't manage to do any of these things.
I haven't cooked regularly since May.
I haven't grocery shopped since August.
I haven't opened the fridge since September. That was to put Chinese food in there. I'm safe to say it should not be opened now, or rather, until I'm ready to deal with it.
I want to have a dance party in my house. I may do that tonight. I've stopped sleeping. That's for suckers. I spend so little time alone it freaks me out when it happens. It used to be the other way around. There's no medium anymore, although I've never been known to be a girl of anything but binary circumstances.
I did a wash on my hair over Thanksgiving to infuse some red back into it since it had been bleeding. Apparently red is the hardest color to keep in your hair. It worked pretty well but it's weird, I mean, it's red but it also looks faded. It's MUCH darker to me but nobody at all has noticed. I can't tell if they haven't noticed because it's one of thsoe things that's only different to me or if it's because it looks shitty. Things to be addressed at Sunday's couch meeting: that.
I emailed Jon a few weeks ago to see if he wanted to consider getting coffee. He never responded. I have to let that go. I don't know why there's still a hook in there, I don't know why he still exists in my brain, I don't know why I think about him every single day. I don't know why this is happening. I don't know how to make it go away. It's fucking haunting me and I have to make my own closure. I need to cry about this. If I can just cry once, in the totality of everything that has happened, I can close it. I haven't cried about it yet. I'm not sure when I will. I listen to "Wednesday (Contra La Puerta)" and it's fresh fresh fresh, but I also need to listen to it because that pain feels so satisfying somehow.
PRJ has a picture with his new girlfriend on Facebook. She's busted, and I somehow feel incredibly good about that. I'm pettier than you might imagine.
Who am I.
I'm so busy.
Who am I.
I'm so tired, but I can't stop going.
Who am I.
Why do I do these things to myself? Why won't someone come and save me? Why do I even want to be saved?
I love New York.
Although frankly, I'd love any place where I can get amazing chicken mole tacos at 10:30 at night along with a giant pitcher of strawberry margaritas, and then walk to the train with a tall handsome boy clinging to one another out of cold and drunkenness singing along to one headphone each full of "Semi Charmed Life" and "Everything to Everyone" (and all the other late nineties jams that I could think of to play) as loudly as possible on 6th Avenue.
These are good things.
