I couldn't help but wonder...

2009-09-12T10:49:00.004-04:00

How do we learn to listen when we can’t shut the fuck up?

2008-08-13T14:16:00.001-04:00

I’m exhausted.

I don’t know what else to say. The person that the previous post is about is gone now and I’m no better for it. I don’t want to go on a tirade about how hurt and broken I am. It doesn’t matter. Mostly what I want to do is sleep. But there’s so much stuff going around in my head that I can barely communicate with people, let alone shut it off in hopes of rest.

I don’t know what to say. Perhaps I shouldn’t be writing about it.

I just don’t know another way to coagulate my feelings. They’re so scattered and different. Conflicted. Misplaced. It’s very very messy.

I can’t change the way things are. I can’t change the way people feel. I can’t prove to anyone how I feel. I don’t want to. If you don’t believe it, then that’s you. That isn’t me. It isn’t my job to make you believe it.

Date in 2008 is officially drawn to a close. It was a massive failure. You can’t plan what I tried to plan. You can’t force it into a tiny window of time. It just has to happen. I suppose that’s something positive I can take away from this. I learned a lesson. Granted, it was a lesson that everyone around me already seemed to know and persistently threw at me. But such is the lesson. It must be learned.

I’m just ready for the time in my life when lessons don’t suck so much.

Things don’t have to come easy. They just shouldn’t be so hard.

So there you go.

!d

What happened to the man who suddenly got everything he'd ever wished for?

2008-07-29T20:16:00.000-04:00

There are people in my life who enjoy making fun of me for having been overly ambitious in my high school sociology class, and getting an A+ on a faux wedding we were instructed to coordinate as a study of American ritual. And they continue to mock me for having retained my wedding binder and for continually updating it in preparation for my eventual wedding. So there you have it. I have my entire wedding planned and priced and pictured; all I’m missing is the groom. Mock away. I don’t care.

But hear me out. I have a reason. And here’s why: Love is stupid. It just is. And not in the “fuck love – love is stupid” kind of way. But in the “boy, love sure is inconsiderate and inconvenient” kind of way. So what better way to deal with love being poorly planned and sloppy and unscheduled than to be totally prepared for the formalities of love? Plus, over the sadistic course of Date in 2008, this stupid binder is pretty much all that’s keeping me sane and sure of what I want. That and some really pretty floral arrangements I found in Martha Stewart Weddings about two years ago.

This is all my really roundabout way of saying that I’ve met someone. And, Jebus, do I hate that expression, but it’s just the most polite way of phrasing it. It’s been fast, and scary, and I’m about 80% sure I’m actually just losing my mind. But he makes me alternately incredibly happy and physically nauseous. Not “word vomit – no wait, actual vomit” kind of nauseous, but like, “I have so many feelings I might actually explode” nauseous. And I don’t understand any of it.

I can’t think of what to call him here, as the only name I find appropriate is too Danish and tragic. When I do, I shall certainly write more, as I have much to say.

Suffice it that he is beautiful and smart (god, so smart), naive and wise, (somehow at the same time), and he wants nothing more than to make me better than I am –less crass, cynical, expecting – everything that New York has done (is doing) to me and some things I brought with me. He sees and is excited by beauty in the strangest places. He is proud of who he is and where he is from. He is someone that I could be with. And I am terrified.

!d

PS- This is my official 100th post to ICHBW. I feel special.

Would We Have Someplace To Go?

2008-07-12T11:06:00.000-04:00

You talk about life, you talk about death,
And everything in between,
Like it's nothing, and the words are easy.
You talk about me, and you talk about you,
And everything I do,
Like it's something, that needs repeating.
I don't need an alibi or for you to realize,
The things we left unsaid,
Are only taking space up in our head.
Make it my fault, win the game
Point the finger, place the blame
It does me up and down,
It doesn't matter now.

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

The first two weeks turn into ten,
I hold my breath and wonder when it'll happen,
Does it really matter?
If half of what you said is true,
And half of what I didn't do could be different,
Would it make it better?
If we forget the things we know.
Would we have somewhere to go?
The only way is down, I can see that now.

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

It's really not such a sacrifice

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

And it don't have to make no sense to you at all,

'Cause this is my interpretation, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Does it make more sense to just skip to the end?

2008-07-06T23:08:00.001-04:00

Nearly a week has passed. I think that has been sufficient time to gain some perspective. I’m saddened to report that the perspective I’ve gained offers no positive solution.

I think this is in fact, the end of whatever relationship T and I have had. I don’t even know that it ever really was a relationship. I don’t think he truly knows how to be a friend to someone.

It’s so much bigger than just being abandoned at a stupid parade. He hasn’t apologized once for it. He hasn’t tried. I don’t think that I would care at this point if he did. I don’t care if his phone died. Or his phone got stolen. Or aliens came down and held them all hostage. It’s been a week. Nothing. Obviously this matters very little to him.

I wish I could say the same. I wish I could just sit and negate all of the good that has been shared between us, saying that he never really meant any of it. But I do fear that that on some level is the case. That this is still, five years later, some sort of game to him. Some sort of testing of loyalties. And that I’m never going to be good enough. I’m never going to win it. I don’t even want to try anymore. And that’s what makes me saddest about this. That I don’t feel angry. That I don’t want to yell about it. But that I’m so far beyond angry that I can’t even… I don’t even know. It just feels like nothing. If I was forced to label it, the best word I can come up with is disappointment. I feel disappointed.

I’ve made it rather a point to keep my list of close friends to a minimum. It’s going to be strange to go on now, with one less. One that I thought was supremely important. One whose opinion I sought on nearly everything.

But I trust myself now, more than I ever have, to do what is best for me. And I know that I can go on. I’m just going to have to rely on me more than I ever have.

!d

How do we see what’s really there?

2008-07-02T22:54:00.001-04:00

Sometimes when I’m not on good terms with someone, I begin to realize things that may or may not be true about that relationship. I say may because I often can’t tell if I’m feeling these things out of anger or if I just don’t pay them any mind when things are ok between us.

I hate to make dramatic statements about relationships in the midst of bad times, but I really feel like I can’t do this anymore. Like it isn’t worth the damage to my self worth. The good stuff isn’t outweighing the bad. There have certainly been people in my life that I’ve discarded (for lack of a better term, although that’s exactly what I’ve done), and I’m not proud of that. But there are people that are not beneficial to be around. People whose personal anger and causticness cause you to be less of who you really are. And I’m not making a generalization about this, each case has been specific, but sometimes it’s better for me to be away from them.

T and I have had what I fear may be our last disagreement. That’s the nicest way I can think to put what was really a horrible day and horrible ensuing days. I feel like there are times when I’m with him that I’m being put in my place. That I need to be brought down a peg. Being the outwardly motivated person that I already am, this is incredibly damaging to me. But I feel at this point in our relationship that this has been going on so long I don’t even notice it anymore. Not to say that it doesn’t affect me, but that I don’t feel it when it happens. It’s just a seeming of being less somehow, when we’re together. It’s the most minute of things, the tiniest pulling of the thinnest thread that somehow completely shreds whatever pile of esteem I’d managed to put together in our time apart.

This can’t be good. Just reading it now, in what I’ve written, I can see that it isn’t good. But there’s a part of me that wants to defend it. To say that “it wasn’t all bad,” and “there was good stuff too.” And yet, reading THAT, I only sound like half of an abusive relationship, after the cops have arrived for the fifth time in a year because the neighbors thought we were going to kill each other. Again.

We’re just so goddamn similar that he’s very aware of all of my insecurities, and whether it’s conscious or not, manipulates them to make sure I stay where I am. And when I see it happen, I can’t help but react, and frequently this is the start of our fights. Because my comebacks aren’t nearly as subtle or deft. They’re mean. And beyond mean, they’re usually accurate – things that everyone’s aware of, but nobody speaks of. So they’re cruel and hurtful in a much more obvious way than what’s happening to me.

I don’t know what the answer is. The problem has become so much bigger than something that can be apologized for. I don’t want to come across as a victim here – I’m just as responsible as he is; I keep coming back for more. But I can’t pretend that I don’t see this anymore. I’m fucking tired of being “taught a lesson,” for the things that I’ve done. It shouldn’t feel like punishment when you look back on the time you’ve spent together. My other friends can't fathom why I put up with this. I tell them that we aren't speaking again, and they roll their eyes.

I’m smart. And I’m good looking. And I can do things that other people can’t. I’m funny. I have style, and I know how to use it. I’m talented. People like me. I’m good in bed. People like me in bed.

But no matter how many ways I say these things to myself, I can’t seem to uproot these seeds of doubt that have been planted when I wasn’t looking because I was distracted by the good. And there is good. I just don't know if there's enough of it.

I’m at a loss. In every way.

!d

What are we willing to trade?

2008-06-08T14:24:00.001-04:00

I’m frequently told that life is all about compromise. It’s never a phrase I’ve been fond of hearing, especially when I was younger. I viewed compromise almost solely as synonymous with “not getting my way.” But what if it weren’t that simple? What if compromise, instead of taking something away, provided you with new and unexpected alternatives?

Last night, instead of my date with the heartbreak kid, I went out with T for dinner and a movie. We had our own date of sorts. We walked through the insufferable heat. We laughed about things we hadn’t laughed at in a long time. And we managed to talk about some things that have been plaguing our friendship for quite some time.

So instead of sitting and dwelling on my lost date, I ended up doing something that made me feel better, and probably helped our friendship in the long run.

What if, like this, life’s compromises, the ones we make with ourselves, our destiny, our god, didn’t result in losing something, but in gaining something we didn’t see coming. Maybe my idea that I’m not simply entitled to love or a relationship or commitment, but that I need to work for it, isn’t that simple. Maybe it’s about that thing that I’ve been so afraid of for so long. Maybe it’s about compromise. Not in the sense that I won’t get my way, but in the sense that allowing myself to venture into unexpected places, with unexpected people might bring me somewhere, well, unexpected.

How do we know when it’s too good to be true?

2008-06-07T13:15:00.001-04:00

I may or may not have mentioned here about my brief but emotional affair with the furniture designer. In case I didn’t, here’s a brief summary to get you up to speed:

Aiden lived in Brooklyn and worked in midtown Manhattan. He had graduated from RISD and was a corporate furniture/interior designer by day and a hands-on woodworker by night. We met in a less than modest way (manhunt) and had one night of amazing sex. Followed by a morning of talking, breakfast, cuddling and promises to call one another. Against all odds, we actually managed to do this and began dating fairly regularly and having phenomenal sex much more regularly. About three months in to all of this, amidst my trying to arrange a romantic birthday dinner for him, he informs me that he can’t see me anymore. When pressed for details, he let it slip that he had a boyfriend. Had HAD a boyfriend the entire time. This entire relationship had been in my head. I was, in no uncertain terms, the other woman. I was incredibly hurt by all of it, but I sill cared for Aiden a great deal. We stopped speaking, but I frequently thought of him and what he might be doing.

Until two days ago, when he decided to IM me on a SN I never used but had accidentally signed on to. We started talking, and that quickly led to admissions of feelings on both sides, I learned he was single, and we have a date tonight.

I couldn’t help but wonder though, how do we know when it’s too good to be true? Am I just blatantly setting myself up for failure with a man who lied to me and hurt me in the past? I know for a fact that I’m an entirely different person than I was one year ago – isn’t it possible that he is as well? If all of this hadn’t transpired the way that it did, is this someone who I could see myself being with?

For the first time in a long time, I’m nervous about a date. And it isn’t even a first date. But I’m about 80% sure that it’s the good kind of nervous. The butterflies, that even as they make you uncomfortable, make certain parts of your life memorable. And if you’re really, really lucky, unforgettable.

When will the time be right?

2008-06-04T16:33:00.003-04:00

So I know that I said I was putting a moratorium on Date in 2008, but the fact of the matter is, I only gave up for a little while. I’ve just been hesitant to speak about it for fear that whatever good thing I had going would be jinxed beyond repair.

But since I’ve posted last there have been a couple of good things, some bad things, and one thing that I can’t really seem to figure out.

Around the time of my birthday in April, Z decided that we needed to go out to celebrate, and I went along with it, even halfhearted as it was. We spent the first part of our evening at her friend John’s apartment with some very tedious friends of his. These were the girls I can’t stand; ponytails, sweatpants, Uggs, loud opinions they’d culled together form Perez Hilton, the Soup, and Fergie. I was polite as I could stand to be and eventually, we left for Sugarland in Brooklyn. Upon our arrival there, we met several people that Z had gone to school with at SCAD. Her friend Steve and I hit it off right away. After leaving Sugarland, and making sure Z didn’t die in the cab ride home (evidently, at Sugarland, just announcing the word “birthday” produces mass quantities of shots – which I opted not to partake in – that Z ended up finishing on her own), Steve and I talked for a few days before deciding to actually go out.

Long story short, we dated really casually for almost a month before he decided that we should “just be friends.” Now, perhaps I’m just being overly analytical, but where I come from this phrase is pretty much the equivalent of “don’t call me anymore.” And that’s fine. If that’s how he felt, then so be it. What could I do? Force him to date me? Problem was a few days after this “friends” talk, he texts me. And then calls me. And then texts me again. Evidently, he’d had a bad day and needed to talk about it with someone. Am I wrong to feel sort of offended that he really actually wanted to be friends? So not only am I not going to be getting a relationship out of this (or even sex for that matter – he was really attractive and we had great chemistry) , but now I have to talk to him when he’s down? And continue to see him? As friends? I don’t mean to sound like a cynic, but no. No thank you. I have friends. Good friends. And I can’t see myself being friends with someone, when what I wanted from them was so much more than that.

So life goes on. We haven’t really spoken in a week or so, and I think he’s starting to understand just what he meant by “just friends.”

Meanwhile, I was seeing another boy (Mark) while Steven and I were dating (we were never exclusive) who, nice as he was, just wasn’t doing it for me. He was smart, talented, and witty, but for some reason I just didn’t feel anything. We held hands through a movie, and I swear, I forgot I was even doing it at one point, it was so bland. So off Mark goes to the island of lost men. We IM occasionally, but I think we both know that wasn’t headed anywhere.

Which brings us up to last night, my first date with Max. Max is a graduate student who is studying to be a youth psychologist, if I’m not mistaken. He’s incredibly smart, and with only the slightest hint of a southern drawl that creeps into his speech at the most adorable times. Most especially when he’s talking about his family or his childhood. He seems very honest, funny, and cute, but for some reason, I can’t seem to place him anywhere other than “good on paper.” And I don’t know what to do. I’m going to continue to see him, as per the rules of Din2008, but I’m nervous about where this could go.

I really have reached a point of exhaustion with this campaign – not so much that I want to give up, but I’m questioning the effectiveness of pursuing a relationship like one pursues s job or a degree. I’m told by everyone that I care bout that it will just “happen” when the time is right. But I can’t help but wonder, when will the time be right?

I know how attractive the idea of the ticking clock is, but I can’t deny that it’s present.

When to quit?

2008-02-16T22:15:00.003-05:00

I give up.

The end.

Whatever.

!d

Where does the ego?

2008-02-02T03:38:00.001-05:00

So ‘Date in 2008’ is turning out to be less successful than previously anticipated. I’ve had lots of great first dates so far, but second dates seem to be more than elusive. And now I’ve reached a point where even the first dates aren’t happening.

That’s correct ladies and gentlemen, I was actually stood up tonight. My potential date was to call me when he got off of work, but as time went on I realized that this was getting less and less likely. So I called him. No answer. Text message. No answer. What am I supposed to think?

Feeling lower than I was already on this day, I called an old friend and asked what she was up to. Lucky for me, she was free and willing to get intoxicated. However, on my voyage to meet her, I was called both a hooker and a faggot. Mind you, they were two separate incidents, but in a FOUR BLOCK walk to her apartment.

The first guy pulled up to me waiting to cross the street and leaned out of his mini-van (replete with child’s car seat) to ask me “how much?” The only response I could muster out of my offense and confusion was “I…. I’m not…” At which point, he drove off.

Half a block later, a black guy with his girlfriend complained (loud enough for me to hear over my iPod) about me being a “fucking faggot.” I expect bullshit like that when I’m back home, but in NEW YORK FUCKING CITY? REALLY? Our people fucking run this shit. I don’t get it. Who are you trying to impress?

My friend and I ended up having a rather nice time, despite our individual bad days. But now I’m home again, sobering up, and pissed.

I’m pretty sure I’m a bit of a catch. Why can’t I seem to convince anyone else of this?

How do you turn off the crazy?

2008-01-20T19:02:00.001-05:00

I’ve been doing a lot of personal inventory work lately. I’ve had a good amount of time off from school and spent a lot of that with my family. I’ve also made some decisions. One of these is that I’ve decided I want to have someone in my life. Someone who I can count on, someone who I can be myself with, and someone that I can be there for. That last one is something I’ve only recently felt strong enough to need. I feel like I’ve finally reached a place where I can be there for someone else, without constantly needing them to be there for me. And that’s the only reason that I’ve begun my new dating campaign, loosely entitled “DATE in 2008!”

Things have already been off to a good start, but I’ve quickly come to the reason why I don’t really care for dating. It isn’t fun. First dates are really more like job interviews than anything else, and if the spark isn’t there in the first few seconds, some guys are quick to write off any prospect of something further.

In my mind, this creates a really unpleasant situation. For instance: I had a great date last night with a guy who was cute, charming, and remarkably funny. But for some reason, there was no crazy ‘back to your place’ mood to the dinner. It was calm, casual, and actually a lot of fun. The pressure wasn’t what it is with guys who you feel you need to come on strong for. But the thing is? I think I actually really like him. He’s great on paper, and even better in real life.

This sets off a whole host of alarms in my head. But we left things very open to interpretation. At the close of the date, we hugged and said goodnight, and neither of us promised (fictitiously, or otherwise) to call the other, or set up a follow up date. And because it isn’t black and white, man – woman stuff, I’m unclear as to who should do what next. I have it on good authority that I should call him the day after with a specific event in mind, but in a very non-committal tone. I half agree with that. I won’t be calling him the day after, because, in my mind, I need to maintain the illusion that I’m busy and that I was never taking things more seriously than he was. That last part is incredibly important to me for a reason I don’t think I even know. My plan is to wait at least two full days, and then call with the aforementioned event/non-committal combination. In case I get shot down, this provides evidence that I’ve been really busy and maybe now isn’t the best time to get into something. No one needs to feel bad.

Except things don’t work like that.

It’s the day after and, despite only being awake for a few hours, I’ve checked my phone ~~four~~ ~~six~~ a few times and my heart beats a little faster every time I get a text message. I know that this irrational. But I liked him. And for some unexplained reason, that is making me more stupid and naïve than I already am.

How do I stop that? How can I turn that off? How can I pretend that I don’t want something, when the fact is that, I really, really, really, want it. From something beyond a get-in-his-pants area. I like this boy.

Why won’t he call?

How Do You Know When It’s Time To Move Offline?

2007-10-16T18:28:00.001-04:00

Ok. Confession time. This thing I’m about to say makes me kind of a freak, and while I’m not entirely comfortable about it, it’s become how I react.

Whenever I look at porn, or visit QC, my immediate reaction is one of bizarre loneliness. Which inevitably leads me to browse Match.com. I know this is weird. But for some reason, in my head, sex and the need for a relationship are inseparable lately.

Now, for the record, I’m not actually doing anything proactive about it. I don’t have a full ad up, and I certainly don’t have pictures up there, but the draw of reassuring myself that there are, in fact, men out there (and even some my actual age) that are in search of the same thing is reassuring, somehow.

The problem I have with that website, and the many like it, is these are the EXACT SAME PEOPLE that I’ve talked to and (less frequently) met on other websites, with, well, what we’ll call ‘less noble titles and purposes.’ I’m entirely wary of joining up with something like Match because it’s the same crowd of people. I realize that living in Manhattan, there is seemingly an unending supply of gay men, but why are the same 42 of them all on the same websites?! For some reason, I can’t convince myself that they want anything other than fuckbuddies or random, one night sex partners. I don’t trust such foul logic.

At 24, I find myself desperately in search of someone to settle down with, for lack of a better term. I want something real and, if not tangible, at the very least, identifiable. Something where I can say that I think this person might be ‘the one.’ Why is that such a hard thing to find? It seems all of my peers (especially the ones who stayed back home and got jobs and careers started right after graduation) are settling down. Getting married. Having their first, if not (alarmingly) their second children. How is it that people I find to be intellectually similar and physically equally attractive, have managed to find the one thing I want and can’t seem to get? Is it that they are just more emotionally available and ready in a way that I’m not? Are they simply settling for what they get? Should I be settling for what I can get? Why is it so preposterous that I should want commitment and monogamy with another man at 24? Are these men out there and I’m just missing them all?

I suppose the point is this: I find it hard to take people seriously when they have a Match profile that says they’re looking for Mr. Right when they have seven other profiles demanding Mr. Right-Now. Is that so far off base? Can you really be looking for a relationship when you’re willing to invite perfect strangers into your home based on internet photos? I certainly don’t pretend that I was never party to those particular websites (I was), but I never professed elsewhere to be searching for a relationship. I wanted what I wanted, and that’s the way it was. Should I be taking people at their word? That despite what one profile says, another might be more accurate?

And all of this isn’t to say that there aren’t lots of interesting looking profiles on Match. There certainly are. But when I see people that I know in real life, purportedly looking for commitment, when ManHunt says otherwise, I can’t seem to even feign trust.

Maybe that’s the bottom line. I can’t trust people I meet online. Is that just good sense? Should I be that person? It’s 2007 – aren’t we all online anyway? Should I be going out to bars and clubs to find someone? A good friend of mine frequently invites me out to amazing parties that she’s in charge of or invited to, and my reaction is always that those aren’t the ‘type of people’ I wish to associate myself with. Is this just sadiddy elitism? School is pretty much out of the question, since most of my peers are 19 years old, and a great many of them still uncomfortable with who they are and unsure who they will be. Is it snotty of me to know that, off the bat, I’m not interested in helping someone out of the closet? I just don’t have the emotional generosity to offer someone in need of that kind of reassurance. I just don’t.

I’m not entirely sure where this leaves me, but I know that, for me, dating websites are out of the equation. In my head I fantasize about meeting someone at Starbucks, or the Met, or Jamba Juice, or outside of the library, that just clicks with me. Who will take the first step, or even follow my lead (I don’t need to be the woman – I’ll start a conversation) into something unexpected and real.

Is that really so much to ask for?

Really?

When is dull TOO dull?

2007-07-13T00:42:00.000-04:00

Can’t even begin to explain how boring my life has so quickly become. Let’s see… A quick inventory of recent experiences…

The Peeled Apple is FINALLY back where she belongs (here with me) and so she invited me to a little get together last Friday. It was very nice… very casual. Meet some of the people she is working with and had a good talk with C_a, PA’s sister-in-law. She’s a fellow designer with an amazing book and a great outlook. She’ll be fun to have around.

Saw Transformers… It totally rocked my world. Very pleased. I spent far too much time in front of the TV on Saturday mornings for 90 minutes of crap to be re-worked into a movie. Michael Bay did a nice job with it. And I effing hate him (I mean, not like I hate Paul Haggis… but still… extreme dislike).

Uhm…. That’s been just about it. The store is absorbing all the rest of my time, as I’m getting ready for BAA to become a big deal again. Sill have lots of work to do there before we get started.

I guess I’ll keep you posted if anything really memorable happens.

!d

When is it Time to Just Duck Your Head and Push on Through?

2007-06-06T22:36:00.000-04:00

So I haven’t forgotten about the blog, it’s jhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifust that I really haven’t had much to say recently.

I’ve spent all of my days at AA working my ass off, and I haven’t done much at all socially.

I guess the point is that I’ve become boring. Huh.

Well there you go then.

In other news, The Peeled Apple will be relocating to the Big Apple at the end of the month. I’m very excited by this. I’ve missed her greatly since I’ve been here and the periodic email hasn’t fulfilled my need for bitchy intellectual discourse.

Get here now!

That's alls I gots.

!d

Does It Mean Anything To Me?

2007-05-20T04:13:00.000-04:00

Long is the day, take it away
Hold it up and you don't let it fall
Cause devils play, was yesterday
And I don't care about that at all

I just smile, once in a while
Because I don't want the lines on my face
I sit right here, holding the years
And I count all the stars in space

You fall apart again and you can find a friend
Don't turn to someone else because they won't understand...

Self respect, goes unexpressed
I don't dream because I cannot sleep
And I think the world of myself
But the world doesn't think much of me
As long as the day is full of time, there will always be room
for your hand in mine

You fall apart again and you can't find a friend
Don't turn to someone else because they won't understand
I don't want to hear
You say that you miss yesterday
If you don't like what you see
That means nothing to me

No one's home I'm alone with my music and my tv
And I still say that yesterday is best when left to sleep

You fall apart again and you can't find a friend
Don't turn to someone else because they won't understand
I don't want to hear
You say that you miss yesterday
If you don't like what you see
That means nothing to me

-Bradi Carlile
Fall Apart Again

!d

When will the stinging pain of the band-aid being ripped off lessen?

2007-05-17T22:28:00.000-04:00

The CW Network is dead to me.

I will not watch anything on that network and will intentionally speed up as I pass it so as not to view any of it's wreched "new fall programing." It's bullshit.

As far as I'm concerned, that merge never happend; there is still a WB network.

Veronica Mars is dead.

Long live Veronica Mars

.

!d

How Do You Know When You're In Too Deep, Pt. III

2007-05-13T17:07:00.000-04:00

I guess a large part of my internal conflict with all of this is the massive ego blow I suffered because of it. No matter how people around me tried to rationalize it to me, I constantly saw this as some failing that I was secretly in control of. It was an odd sort of delusion, really; to think you’re in control of something that is slowly destroying your life and yet you’re letting it proceed. I know now that, obviously I wasn’t in control of it – it was in control of me.

It’s hard to explain the feeling behind it. I guess resentment is the best way to describe it. I resented my body and my mind for failing me this way. And for putting me so far out of control of my own situation and my own choices. Not to say that I’m not culpable for my actions – certainly I don’t think that I deserve some sort of reprieve from knowing right from wrong – but the way things happened was almost surreal to me. Things took place that I neither wanted nor predicted. It was very strange. there were days of hyper-reality (a state that feels like a dream despite all evidence that you’re actually awake and experiencing it) where I would see and hear and interact with things that I knew weren’t there or couldn’t hear me.

There were times I spoke with god. And many more times where I felt entirely neglected by it. God. It didn’t make me feel special or unique. I never felt as if I were a profit, being given knowledge that no one else possessed. For the most part, it terrified me. Because the line between what I knew to be real and not real was increasingly blurred. There were some days where it didn’t even exist. Days that I’d wake up and have full on conversations with the mirror or the walls. And there were always animals in my house. Animals I couldn’t’ draw or describe for you now, but that appeared and sounded as real as anything I’ve ever experienced.

My sister attributes all of this to some sort of higher calling. Because she’s seen and heard it too. I wish that I could have that kind of faith, because my first instinct when she confessed this to me was to laugh. I didn’t know what else to do. it sounded preposterous. But the more I think about it and write about it, I realize that she may be right. Who am I to decide such things?

I can’t say that I’m looking forward to some sort of Narnia through the Wardrobe sort of experience, but maybe she’s on to something. There’s always been something a little off about us. There’s always been some sort of connection between us. We think exactly the same way and can have entire conversations in very few words. She’s always seen what she refers to as the ‘elves.’ When I told her what I was seeing, she admitted to having dealt with them all her life. And I still frequently have dreams that I know are going to happen. It’s an odd sort of certainty, but when I wake from them, I know which dreams are actually going to bring themselves into being and which are just dreams. It’s happened all my life but T was the first person who ever believed me, because he has them too. So between the three of us, maybe there’s something about to begin.

It’s terrifying.

!d

Sometimes isn't it good to just be ridiculous?

2007-05-12T21:54:00.000-04:00

This is a real thing.

I el oh elled for days.

Thank you CTLLH.com

!d

How Can Something Ground You In A Place Where You Thought Nothing Could?

2007-05-09T16:30:00.000-04:00

So not to drone on about this Mandy Moore CD, certainly, but due to her rave reviews of and recent collaborations with the Weepies, I spent twenty seconds of my day and downloaded their latest work, Say I Am You.

I know I always say that I don’t know how to describe something, only to go on and on for paragraphs describing said thing, but I really don’t know how to explain this collection of songs. It was almost like finding a mixtape that you thought was lost somewhere in your life and recalling the emotional reactions you had to the songs that meant so much to you. But hearing it for the first time.

I’ve never been so affected by a collection of music as I was by Say I Am You. I listened to each song and felt more connected to their source with every verse that passed. I cried sometimes. Laughed. Felt I had discovered something that was going to matter. That, as corny as it sounds, was going to score my world for a little bit.

I don’t know how I could compliment them to the extent that they deserve. But I can’t say enough that you should listen for yourself. Even if you only listen to one song. And if you’re going to listen to only one song, make it World Spins Madly On. In fact ~~I’ll try to post an MP3 of it here when I have a chance~~ here it is.

The conclusion, I guess is that Deb Talan and Steve Tannen feel like old friends at the end of the disc. As the Weepies, this is their second full length effort, but you would never know it to listen to them. They create story-songs that capture your attention and your heart.

Seriously. Listen to it.

Now.

!d

How Do You Know When You're In Too Deep, Pt. II

2007-05-09T15:41:00.001-04:00

As I’m rereading all of this and deciding what I should and shouldn’t say, I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about how melodramatic all of this seems. I certainly don’t mean for it to, but it was really hard for me at the time, and the way I’m describing it, looking back, is actually less intense than it was. So take that into account.

Obviously, with the realization that I was increasingly withdrawn and really unable to interact with other people, I took myself out of any situation that made me even slightly uncomfortable. I stopped calling my parents. I stopped calling *K*. I told my boss at my internship that I couldn’t go any farther with them. And on top of all of this, I stopped going to classes.

As the end of the semester drew nearer, I spoke with some of my professors about what was going on in my life and they were more than understanding. So much so, that I was actually kind of bothered by their generous offers of support and the bevy of personal email addresses and home phone numbers. I left the semester with three A’s and four incompletes.

Now, with all of my obligations either shoved aside and ignored or resigned from, I began to sleep. Sometimes for days at a stretch.

My parents managed to convince me to come home for the winter holiday break, despite insincere protest on my part.

!d

How Do You Know If You’re Still Ready To Begin?

2007-05-09T10:00:00.000-04:00

According to my last few posts here, my life has been a rather confusing time of late. And during this time there was, what we’ll refer to as, some emotional/sexual sloppiness. Totally not my style and totally not something that I look back on fondly. But at my lowest, somehow, sex and the approval and faux intimacy that came with it were a comfort.

I’m not by any means saying that I was standing on the corner of Christopher street and waiting for someone in an SUV to come by and pick me up, but I did the requisite profile searching (ManHunt, Adam4Adam, dList, dudesNude, etc…) and met, well… a lot of people. Being specific here may allow you to form an opinion that I don’t agree with. So all you get is that it was more than a few.

Anyway, the point was that there were a couple people out of the bunch that I treated in a way that I happen to look back on as less than favorable. People who, despite my spending many nights with them, had no idea that I was kinda seriously fucked up, or that I had dropped out of school, or any of it really. Because I’m a really good liar. And while I was looking for some sort of intimacy, I don’t think I ever wanted reciprocal intimacy. I wanted all of them and gave only some of me.

I don’t really know how to explain how I feel about my actions. It isn’t as easy as I’m sorry. Or I’m sad. I think I still feel something for most of them. Certainly not all of them. But in particular Jeremy and Ryan.

Jeremy, as self absorbed and work-oriented as he was, was still an amazing soul. Someone that I could see myself being with. But the more I tried to entrust him with the intricate workings of my life, the more he pulled away. And the more he pulled away, the more resentful I became. Ultimately we just stopped talking to each other. And that isn’t what I wanted for us. But my pride usually wins out in situations like this, so I made up a reason that satisfied that and moved on.

Ryan actually just came back into my life this past week. We had gone on a couple of dates previously and I could feel myself falling for him then, as cheesy as that sounds, so I called it off. He was seeing someone long-distance and was leaving New York soon anyway.

But when my phone rang this time, I couldn’t help myself.

So we went out and had this amazing evening that just keep getting better and better until it was taking everything I had to not rip his clothes off. He was single again (ding). He was in the city nearly every day (ding). And he looked AMAZING (DING!). He may be the most difficult person I’ve ever met to describe. He has the most attractive outlook on the world around him. He is physically gorgeous and doesn’t have the faintest idea. And I am, more importantly (to me) in love with the reflection of myself that I see in him; the person that I want to be, could see myself being. The good, generous, open and honest person that I have such a hard time owning.

I know that with the limited time we have together, I should be holding myself back, but I don’t think I can. I know that I love him. And that’s… well.. that is what it is. I don’t need it back, but it’s the truth, and I love being with him.

I’m going to take this harder than I should, and I know that. But holding feelings inside again is not where I need to be right now.

So.

!d

Can't You Just Adore Her?

2007-05-08T00:47:00.000-04:00

In the interest of full disclosure, I should start this review by admitting that I’m a die hard Mandy Moore fan. I loved her when she was singing about Candy. I love her when she did that one song for Center Stage (which I also loved). I loved her when she had three greatest hits albums off of two regular albums. And I especially loved her when she did an entire album of covers. Moore brings her own special take on lots of famous songs by equally famous singers. Not all of them were better than their originals, but some were, and some tied very evenly. I'm also still (at 140 years old) a member of her street team.

But Mandy’s newest outing, Wild Hope, a record that took nearly two years to write and produce, amidst battles with her label and signing to a new label, is solid and honest in a way that nothing she’s done before has been. She co-authors nearly all the songs, and works with people she loves to create a sound that, while musically different from what she’s done in the past, is still distinctly her.

She’s at her strongest in tracks like Latest Mistake, and Few Days Down, where she relies little on production or multiple takes. You get the impression that she sang these songs like she meant them and the got it in the first go round.

It’s hard to explain the emotional maturity that Moore displays here, especially considering some of her previous efforts, but if you can separate her from those songs and records, she does have something real and heartfelt to say. And having a group like The Weepies co-producting or co-authoring nearly every song with you doesn't hurt, I'm sure.

The best way I can describe it is the way I described it to my mom in a letter I wrote her attached to the disc- if Carly Simon were 22 now, these are the songs she would be singing.

I put so much thought into getting ready; now I know that was the best part.

-Gardenia

How Do You Know When You're In Too Deep? Pt. I

2007-05-02T15:46:00.000-04:00

I don’t really know where to begin with all of this. I suppose I’ll start with the beginning. Around last October, I began having days where I was totally overwhelmed by everything that was happening around me. Even things that I had little or no control over. For the most part, I could put it aside and deal with day to day things. But as time progressed, I found that I actually couldn’t deal. I could only stay home and sleep.

But even that began to wear on me. I was afraid I was sleeping too much, and instead of doing something about it, my solution was to sleep until I wasn’t thinking about it. I began to resent my life. Especially the people in it. I began shutting people out and not returning calls, texts, or emails.

Around the end of November, my parents were here for a visit and I confessed that I was feeling pretty seriously depressed and that I hadn’t been going to classes. Their immediate reaction was to take me home and deal with problems there. Despite my feelings, I wasn’t ready to call it quits yet, though I had no idea how I was going to finish the semester from my bedroom.

After they went home, things got far more serious. I became increasingly unable to go outside and would spend days and even weeks at a time in my apartment. Alone.

When does distance, from friends, family, even yourself, become too much distance?

2007-04-29T23:50:00.000-04:00

I've been absent here for a bit too long.

I've gone through some things recently that remind me that I miss having a place to talk about them.

I can't say that I'll keep up with this like I should. I won't even say 'should.' But I need to write. I need to talk about some of the things I've been through. I need for those who are far from me to feel a little closer.

And for the first time in my life, I'm not ashamed to say that I need something.

The horizon is shifting.

Stay with me.

!d

If we already know what the rules are, how do we decide when they don’t apply to us?

2006-09-11T16:46:00.000-04:00

My father has always lived his life assuming that the rules of the world, the rules put into place for ‘other people,’ do not apply to him. He doesn’t present this with any real arrogance, just an understanding that this is fact. Laws, rules, dress codes – these are all suggestions for people who, “don’t know any better.”

I have always lived my life with the understanding that, if I am unaware of the rules, I am not culpable for the consequences incurred if said rules are broken.

But what happens when you know full well what the rules are and decided to go ahead and break them anyway? We all do this every day; we make turns on lights when we don’t have the right of way, we take something we know is someone else’s, and we cheat (on diets, on tests, in life) when we think no one is looking. But if no one gets hurt, is it really that bad?

As I write this, I’m sitting inside Gramercy Park – the only private park left in all of Manhattan, requiring a key to get inside a seven foot iron fence – where I have longed to be for over a year now. From the first time I saw it and was told I wasn’t allowed in, that was all I wanted. In.

But now that I’m here, and knowing that I shouldn’t be, it seems less worth it somehow. Obviously I don’t have a key. Someone was foolish enough to leave the gate open and I happened to walk by at the right moment. But the fact that I snuck in makes me feel like I don’t somehow deserve to be here.

I am going to sit here and pretend like I belong; typing merrily away on my MacBook and ignoring the nanny parade that’s happening on the other end of the park.

But I’ll also be thinking about what I’ve done. How these rules evidently, do not apply to me.

EDIT: I’m now realizing that there are, in fact, consequences to breaking the rules. Huh. I’m now stuck inside the park as it evidently requires a key to get out as well. Well… that’ll learn me. Damn…

When is the hard part over with?

2006-09-07T12:18:00.000-04:00

Going into my second year at SVA (my fifth year in college total), I am faced with a workload more pressing and daunting than any I’ve faced before. It’s the school’s way of asking you if you really mean it. Freshman year is foundation work and easy by comparison, and Second Year proves you’re up for the challenge of the last two. But if the stakes are always going to be upped in this way, how does one face continuing if it’s only going to get harder? In class, in school, in life?

I don’t mean any of this to say that I don’t feel up to the challenge. I’m all for it. I’m better than the vast majority of my peers here and the fact that I’m a hundred years older than them gives me an advantage I’m well aware of. But as I get older, I keep waiting for it to get easier, and it never seems to. I can’t help but ask, “Would I want it to?” Would I find a reason to get out of bed at seven AM if I knew that I could breeze through my day without the slightest effort? The really really lazy part of me says yes, and finds myriad ways of filling the day with things I actually enjoy; laundry, reading, writing, cooking, television… It isn’t hard.

But the part of me that loves the work of it all, says no. The part of me that hates sitting still and doing nothing says that I would tire of this quicker than I can imagine.

Which side is right? Do I really want to keep trying? This year brings the challenge of the Sophomore year end review, in which we learn if there is any real reason to keep at what we’ve been doing, or if it’s time to give this up and try something new. The top ten percent of the review are rewarded with recommendations for jobs and internships from the department chair and scholarships that are more necessary to me now more than ever. I know where I need to be, but there’s a mountain of work between me and the top ten.

I’m nervous.

!d

Are we out of the woods yet?

2006-06-29T20:00:00.000-04:00

The past few months have been... well... we'll call them "interesting." But now things are... well... we'll call them "better."

Those of you who have been active participants in my life know well what I'm speaking of, and the rest of you will have to use your imaginations.

But in the end, I learned things - vauable things about trust and friendship and family that I couldn't have learned any other way.

------

Mother said,
"Straight ahead,"
Not to delay
or be misled.
I should have heeded
Her advice...
But he seemed so nice.

And he showed me things
Many beautiful things,
That I hadn't thought to explore.
They were off my path,
So I never had dared.
I had been so careful,
I never had cared.
And he made me feel excited-
Well, excited and scared.

When he said, "Come in!"
With that sickening grin,
How could I know what was in store?
Once his teeth were bared,
Though, I really got scared-
Well, excited and scared-
But he drew me close
And he swallowed me down,
Down a dark slimy path
Where lie secrets that I never want to know,
And when everything familiar
Seemed to disappear forever,
At the end of the path
Was Granny once again.

So we wait in the dark
Until someone sets us free,
And we're brought into the light,
And we're back at the start.

And I know things now,
Many valuable things,
That I hadn't known before:
Do not put your faith
In a cape and a hood,
They will not protect you
The way that they should.
And take extra care with starngers,
Even flowers have their dangers.
And though scary is exciting,
Nice is different than good.

Now I know:
Don't be scared.
Granny is right,
Just be prepared.

Isn't it nice to know a lot!
And a little bit not...

-------

A little bit not, indeed.

-!d

When music is this honest, can it really be good for us?

2006-03-19T11:23:00.000-05:00

Sitting alone on a Sunday morning, reading my newspaper, this song came across my Pandora suggestions, and though I'd heard it a few times before, struck some sort of new chord in me. I started crying. Not some sort of helpless 'my-life-is-so-sad-and-hard' crying, but some other sort. Some remembering things that happened and won't ever happen chord. Some thing that allowed me to be sorry and happy and exhausted and scared. All at once.

I am sorry for things that I've done, but in looking back, I realize that I wouldn't change any of it.

Forgive me,
For I did not know.
'Cause I was just a boy
And you were so much more

Than any god could ever plan,
More than a woman or a man.
And now I understand how much I took from you:
That, when everything starts breaking down,
You take the pieces off the ground
And show this wicked town
something beautiful and new.

You think that Luck
Has left you there.
But maybe there's nothing
up in the sky but air.

And there's no mystical design,
No cosmic lover preassigned.
There's nothing you can find
that can not be found.
'Cause with all the changes
you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you.
Alone again in some new
Wicked little town.

So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town.
Oh it's a wicked, little town.
Goodbye, wicked little town.

I hope things turn out for the best. I fear they might not, but dwelling on the past isn't going to make them.

Sigh...

!d

If we know it won't be easy, why are we upset when it isn't?

2006-03-09T16:20:00.000-05:00

I suppose the biggest problem in my life right now is that I just watched Pride and Prejudice for the second time today. It's easy to look at the situations there and be envious of Mr. Darcy's endless, emotional pursuit of Elizabeth and want to have that sort of thing. That isn't to say that I want to live in 18th century England, nor to be female; having marriage be your highest achievement in life is not something to be particularly respected. But to have that need. That power that means more to you than money or status or anything else, really. That driving force that makes you just know that it's right.

I don't know how to describe it without sounding like a fourteen year old Carrie Bradshaw, but I do know that I don't have it.

This i where things become sticky. When I'm in a relationship, I desperately want out of it, however easy and comfortable it may be. I can just tell that this thing isn't there. But day to day, there isn't really anything I want more. I catch myself looking at strangers just to see if I can catch their eye and maybe I'll see this spark that I want so badly.

Maybe it's time to turn of the dvd player and go to bed, or at the very least switch to Family Guy episodes, but I don't think that will help this go away. I'm worried that until I get this thing... this feeling... this moment that I'm not ever going to be satisfied with my situation. That things will always be in a state of flux and fear.

That I might never get it.

-!d

(Or that I had it and lost it...

You may need me there
To carry all your weight
But you're no burden I assure
You tide me over
With a warmth I'll not forget
But I can only give you love)

And On This, My 70th Entry Here...

2006-03-08T22:34:00.000-05:00

I've made a decision.

I've decided that I'm going to relegate this blog strictly to emotional and relationship ramblings as it was originally intended. To that effect, I've established another site that will be host to the more fun aspects of my world, as I choose to document it. The new site is more appropriate to my world right now anyway, and allows me even more freedom than blogger to create modules and rearrange them without having to spend days writing and rewriting fucking HTML. I hate fucking HTML.

Without further ado, I give you:

ExclamationPoint d

From here on out, this is gonna be the sad blog, and that's going to be the happy one.

Update your bookmarks.

!d

Dear Google,

2006-03-08T09:52:00.000-05:00

Thank you for always, always, always being right.

Good for you.

Sincerely,

!d

PS- This will be the last of my bitterness on this topic.

Promise.

!d

The Heart Tends Toward Mercy...

2006-03-06T04:56:00.000-05:00

(For the record, it is now 5 in the morning and I've spent most of the evening talking to *T about life and racisim and homophobia and genetics, so please excuse any obvious insanity)

Ok ok ok...

I realize that I've been severely slacking lately. And I don't really have an excuse. I'm on spring break. I've done nothing the past two days except sleep and get over a tiny cold. So yeah. It's a hard knock life.

But I did a post-oscar update last year and I felt obligated to do one this year, as well. Plus I'm fucking pissed off about the way things went down.

Jon Stewart was an admirable host and while he was funny, wasn't cruel or stupid (see ex. Chris Rock). The gay cowboy montage and the faux commercials about leading actress and sound mixer were fantastically hilarious. So nothing wrong there.

George Clooney can do no wrong. He's my new religion. If he asked me, I'd spend the rest of my life with him.

I hate this woman more than AIDS and Cancer combined. Why is she so fucking dark?! Why is she even here?! Jesus! Die already!

This woman deserves about fifteen Oscars. Good for her. She should get an Oscar just for being married to such an attractive human being. I'm proposing that she be nominated in the category of 'Picture Perfect Life' where she would win the award for having such a perfect marriage and perfect babies and perfect sex with her perfect, stupid husband. Also, Walk the Line was really good.

This was brilliant in every sense of the word. BRILLIANT.

This, on the other hand, was embarrassing on every goddamned level. Embarrassing for this song, for this presentation of said song, and for the fact that this movie was not (Repeat NOT) the motion picture of the year.

This film was a loosely woven (and ultimately, a poorly constructed) story about racism and why it's bad. Inside of this movie is a good movie that really wants to be seen and known and understood for the genius that it is. But in its current format, it has the emotional gravitas and cultural significance of an after-school-special from 1987. It presents such a wealth of terrible situations that you end up never connecting to any one of them, and finish without caring about ANY of them. There's far too much emphasis on teaching a fucking lesson, and not nearly enough on the reason behind the need for that lesson. Everyone knows racism is bad. Let's talk about why that is, and perhaps you'd have a movie worth watching.

And Don Cheadle, everyone knows that you're not a real actor. I saw Golden Palace. I know about you.

"Poooor Eve."

I'm not buying it.

Long story short (too late, I know...) the movie didn't deserve this award while it was up against the greatest movie of this decade so far. A moving, almost scientific examination of the psychological breakdown of two people whose love can never be known or understood.

But, alas;

Racism is bad, Mmmmk?

Fucking Academy.

!d

EDIT! From one of my favorite movie blogs, Pajiba, via Slowly Going Bald:

For those who haven’t seen it, or for those who have seen it and are simply a little slow, Crash is a cheesy, ham-fisted melodrama that makes Peter Jackson look like Wim Wenders. It’s bloated, predictable, filled with flat characters, and unpleasant to watch. It’s a tale about racism that never stops reminding you in bright colors and monosyllabic words and arbitrary plot points that you are watching a movie about racism, and it’s your duty to be moved by the film. If not, you don’t understand it. It’s a movie for people who don’t understand enough about movies to pick a good one from a fake one; it’s the cinematic equivalent of Ayn Rand, a film for posers and wannabes and that guy in your philosophy class who thinks he’s on the ball but pronounces the first “s” in “Descartes.”

I’m literally at a loss. I’m monumentally disappointed that Crash won over the powerful Capote, the amazing Good Night, and Good Luck, the thought-provoking Munich, and above all, the phenomenal Brokeback Mountain. In a year when the new version of independent film (small budgets, big names) seemed to be everywhere, Brokeback balanced an emotional story, a solid cast and crew, a well-written script, and an eye to the cultural zeitgeist to become something bigger than the sum of its parts. It’s more than a film; it’s an idea about where film is heading.

Thank you! I'm too drunk to say it more eloquently than that, but Jesus! At least someone sobered up enough to spit out words that accurately summed this up.

Fuck.

!d

Well fuck...

2006-02-14T14:28:00.000-05:00

I just dropped The Silence of the Lambs out my window. I'm a fucking genius. In the plastic and everything. Wow.

I mean, it was an accident... I hope it didn't hurt anyone. But fuck.

Now I'm kinda pissed off.

:/

!d

Do You See?

2006-02-13T16:55:00.000-05:00

Since I've been so boring as of late, I'm giving you an excerpt from a book I'm reading that does a miraculous job of explaining why I'm the way I am.

If you like it, read it. It's not bad.

-Chip Kidd
The Cheese Monkeys

Meh.

!d

Yeah, right...

2006-02-13T12:43:00.000-05:00

I'm annoyed.

I'm so over it, I need a new word for over.

!d

Ughh... Devil!

2006-02-07T11:07:00.000-05:00

Ok... I've been really bad about updating... and it's not really like I have an excuse. I've been awake for what seems like days.

For those of you I haven't called or emailed in a desperate bid for pity on my newfound insomnia, I haven't been sleeping. At all really.

It got better for a couple of days and now it seems like it won't ever improve. I should get used to it.

So my post today is going to be dedicated to people I wish would go away:

First up on the list is

Jamie Fucking Foxx. He sings, he acts, he annoys the shit out of me. I can't effing stand him. I really wish he's just wander away and leave me alone. He was on Ellen today and it just sort of reiterated the need for him to fade on out.

Next up

Sharon Stone GODDAMNIT WOMAN! LEAVE US ALONE! FADE INTO OBSCURITY ALREADY! Really though, do we need another fucking Basic Instinct? Do we? Wasn't one up the skirt shot enough?

Oh, and

Kirstey Alley Am I the only one who thinks her Jenny Craig ads have moved from mildly annoying right into straight out creepy? The one of her eating and making sex noises? What the hell is that? Fuck. She's my heterosexual nightmare.

Seriously though,

Jessica Simpson Yes, it's sad you're getting divorced. Or not. Or are. Or whatever. But fuck me, lady... lots of people get divorced. You're nothing fucking special. Frankly, Nick Lachey needs to be elevated to saint-hood for putting up with you as long as he did.

And only because I've been awake so much lately

Katie Couric I've seen a lot of the Today Show recently, as I'm awake at a time when I never have been before, and Jesus! She is one of the most substanceless people I've ever experienced! And she manages to come off as some sort of effing journalist! How are people that easily duped?! I can't believe Dawson used to masturbate to you. I'm disgusted, Mr. Leery. Disgusted.

Ok... That's all you get. I'm bored and Martha is on.

!d

Pleasure moment, Thinking Big, Thinking Positive And Itching To Get On With It...

2006-02-01T00:50:00.000-05:00

When I'm not interesting, as I haven't been for the past several days (I've been sick...Meh...), I depend on celebrities to fill in for me. They never fail.

Take, case in point, one Lindsay Lohan:

Lindsay Lohan was hospitalized in London over the weekend after cutting her shin at Bryan Adams' mansion. A source tells The Star:

"Lindsay was going up the stairs, carrying a ceramic teacup. She had just come out of the shower, so she was still wet and had some lotion on, and she completely flipped on the stairs ... The teacup went flying, it was shattered and one of the pieces cut Lindsay on her shin."

Really? This was the best 'Lindsay-Lie' they could fabricate? She tripped, UP stairs, and cut her leg on her teacup which she had lotion on because it was in the shower with her? While she was staying at Bryan Adams' house? And showering there? Does this even make an iota of sense?! Is it me?

!d

Oh, When You're Cold...

2006-01-26T04:39:00.000-05:00

So I've decided that I'm never going to sleep again. I'm just going to be awake forever.

I've developed some sort of sleep disorder wherein I can either sleep for days and days at a time, or not at all. I've skipped two classes this week because I simply can't get out of bed. I don't know if it's depression or just supreme laziness, but something about me just prefers being asleep to being awake.

And obviously, the easiest way to accomplish anything in my life is to avoid sleeping at all costs.

On a less sarcastic note, I had a realization tonight. It caught me quite off guard and I was rather surprised that the thought even entered my head. But as I was laying in bed pretending that I was tired enough to sleep, I started thinking about *J. He's sick right now. I talked to him earlier. And I started thinking about him in a way I hadn't before. Not in a "boy am I trying to convince myself that I like this really great guy," but in a genuine sense of "I really do like this guy." I was worried (despite how convincing I've been in previous entries) that I wasn't trying to sell it to everyone else, but to myself.

Laying in bed, though, I realized that I really do like him.

I like the way he smells and the way his skin feels and his amazing smile and his sense of humor that I find annoying sometimes but overall, charming. I like that he's smart and noncommittal.

I really like the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

Mostly, (and I promise I'm not trying to sell it on myself) I like him.

Get well.

!d

Just In Case I Should Stay Here Forever...

2006-01-25T03:06:00.000-05:00

In case anyone ever wondered where I actually lived, here's a picture!

GoogleMaps rocks my socks off.

!d

Torture Me With All I Wanted...

2006-01-24T00:28:00.000-05:00

Lucky me.

So I spent all of Sunday (and, obviously, Saturday night) with *J and had an amazing time.

I really really like him. He's smart and totally into me and likes all of the same things that I like and blah blah blah... He's great. If he had any understanding of musical theatre, we'd be married by now.

It's really a relief to be dating someone who isn't totally crazy and actually my age.

He likes to smoke pot and doesn't judge me for my drinking/pill business. He understands it's a hobby and doesn't feel inclined to serve me mini-interventions with the pretense of gifts. Hooray for common sense.

I like him.

Smiles.

!d

::Insert Funny Here::

2006-01-17T17:32:00.000-05:00

I needed comic relief from all of that feelings crap... I can only assume people reading this do too.

Enter MySpace:

hey goodlooking
imnew to allthis online shit inever cruise or chat just thought you were so fucken damn beautiful ihad to say hi ....................your eyes are amazing your breathtaking ever vist in ny or florida? you should be modleing your gorgeous and i like the profile you seem so real

steve

MySpace never fails to lift my spirits.

Thanks Steve. Whoever you are.

!d

49 Percent - One Percent Short of Half...

2006-01-17T17:13:00.000-05:00

So I don't guess there's not anyway I can band-aid that post from last night. It's been read.

I feel better now. Several Xanex later and a veeerrry long night's sleep. But I cant' help but wonder what is going on with me. Whenever it seems like things are ok in my actual life, my emotional life lights up and starts hurting like an inflamed appendix (sp?). Is there some connection? Have I actually convinced myself that I'm not allowed to be happy, so that anytime that sort of thought appears on the horizon this backup, subconscious thing kicks in and makes me miserable over nothing? Is that what's happening here?

I wish there were someone who could explain it to me. Because I'm at a loss.

It's like I spend my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, because somehow I know it's going to, instead of enjoying the shoe I have.

I hate this.

!d

Because I Know...

2006-01-17T02:26:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I'm bothering to post this here, especially considering my last post about being all happy and shit. But I'm really upset right now and i can't seem to stop crying. And I don't know why. And it's too late for me to call anybody and I don't know who I'd email.

I'm such an emotional mess these days. It takes everything I have, all my strength to keep my shit together day to day. I want to fall down and cry and fail and just have this all be over with. All of this school, and dad dying, and ali's mom dying, and my sister not speaking to me, and K* and [T] being a thousand miles away, and shit with Stupid.

I can cry over literally nothing. The wrong thing is going to set me off at the wrong time and I'm going to start crying in class or something. Or when I'm out with friends or just walking down the street. Like it did the other day. Tears just started streaming down my face and I put my hood on and pretty much ran back to my dorm so I wouldn't see people's reactions.

It's already taken me twenty minutes to type this because I can't stop sobbing right now.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

And you know what the worst part of it is? I know what part of this is.

I miss him.

As long as it's been, and as much as we've talked since then... I don't know. I'm never going to be better from that. As short as it was, he mattered more to me in a way that no other person has ever mattered before or since. And every time I kiss someone else or touch someone else, I can't not think back to that.

And it's still hurting me right now. And maybe I shouldn't post this where he can see it and where other people can read it, but it's true. It's how I feel. I miss him.

I shouldn't post this.

!d

Now Here I Am, I Am The One...

2006-01-16T00:42:00.000-05:00

So.

There's a boy.

There's a boy I've been seeing for a couple of days now.

I really really like him.

He's smart and charming and has the most beautiful eyes. He thinks I look 17. I could marry him.

I'm doing everything in my power to not do with this relationship, what I've done in all relationships past.

This means NOT sleeping/attempting to sleep with him before I get to know him.

Did I mention I really like him? Because I do.

A lot.

!d

A Step In the Right Direction...

2006-01-11T16:49:00.000-05:00

I just had the best nap ever. I woke up feeling good about myself and my life and had this aura of optimism. My neck hurts a little, but overall; good.

I got the class I needed to fill out my schedule today. The professor seems really nice. Fidgety. But nice. There's nothing that bothers me more than when people I'm supposed to be listening to are doing everything in their powers to distract my already ever fleeting attention span. There were several moments today when I lost entirely what he was saying because I was watching him rather meticulously clean out his right ear.

Anyway, not important. I got the class. I feel good. I'm excited about the class. There's a very good looking, markedly overdressed young man who looks like George Michael from AD with a better body who keeps shooting looks at me. If he didn't have the silver anchor around his neck, we might have talked. I'm gonna wait and see if that goes away. (I mean, c'mon. Is he a sailor? Is he in the Navy? Has he seen action?) I going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he, like this boy I once knew in high school who actually sailed all around the world and competitions and things and never told anyone, is a hobbiest. And our ~~future childreren~~ I have nothing to worry about.

We'll see.

!d

Brokeback Mountain: The Emotional Equivilant of Anal Rape... Whee...

2006-01-09T23:03:00.000-05:00

So... over my vacation, I saw this movie. I don't know how to set this up better than that. I saw it. And it ruined me in a way that I've never been ruined before. Ever. My friends were embarrassed to be with me, I was crying uncontrollably, and I pretty much wanted to hang myself afterwards. So yeah. All in all it was an amazing experience that I'd prefer to inflict on other people than experience myself.

I talked with [T] for a couple of hours last night about the movie and it was the first time we'd actually addressed why it was so bothersome to me. No real revelations. A lot of it comes (from his and my best guess) from just having immense stress for several weeks and for many months before that and from not having any way to put that out there. But a lot of it comes also from this really deep seated fear that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. Not to say that I won't have friends and I won't have relationships, but just that I've (for lack of a better phrase at the moment) painted myself into an emotional corner with all of my ideals and "needs" from other people. It's really icky.

So to see something like that that could have been so good and then have it ruined by the world and by their own fears, made me hurt for never having experienced it and for the thought that I might never in the future. So that's the icky, messy surface of my emotional connection to that movie.

In a slightly more than minor point, it also dredged up some well compacted issues of being pushed around (and I'm using that term loosely) in high school for who I was. To see Jack killed, quite literally, for the same thing and then to see his family, as it were, explain it away as a tire accident, just hit a nerve.

I had a similar reaction to American Beauty. Just all the right points from people I can understand in a format that doesn't insult my obviously superior intellect (*ahem* Family Stone.. we're looking in your direction... *ahem*). And that's all I have to say about that.

!d

Pt. Two!

2006-01-01T18:58:00.000-05:00

Dinner Rocks!

UPDATE: Well fuck. My whole LiveBlog plan for BetsyVisit2005 didn't pan out the way I wanted it to. Lots (all but this one) of the posts didn't get sent here and I forgot about it after dinner anyway. So pretend this never happened and scroll up to read my thoughts on BBMTN.

Ugh.

!d

We're Rolling in Cashmere, Got it in Fifth Gear, Baby...

2005-12-27T20:47:00.000-05:00

Evidently, fifth gear in St. Petersburg, Florida.

This would be a picture of the bus of one, Ms. Gwen Stefani, parked in one, *K*'s parking space for the seventh consecutive day at her apartment complex.

This brings several pressing questions to mind:

What is Gwen doing there?

Is this how she spends her holidays? In a middle class, nowheresville apartment parking lot?!

What does Mr. Gwen Stefani have to say about all this?

But mostly:

Why?!?

!d

Other Places Always Make Me Mad...

2005-12-21T23:11:00.000-05:00

So I'm off again. This semester has almost killed me multiple times. I'm quite relieved to have it over with.

I'll be in Florida until further notice. (Now that I actually don't live there, it sort of sounds like a vacation!)

Wanna play? Gimme a ring...

!d

3:45 - No Sleep...

2005-12-17T03:10:00.000-05:00

I need to give the personals thing up. It's such a sham. I just don't have the ego to play these games at this point. I'm worn down...

I keep gettin replies like this:

Hey !

I am looking somebody compactible with me.
Somebody fit. Preferably submissive. WHo likes bondage. To play or spend time with.

I mean, really... what's my answer to that? Really?

Gosh, bondage?! Really? Do you have a phone in your den of iniquity? Could I call you up? Please...?

Fuck. Why aren't there more mes out there. If there's anything the world could stand it's the rest of me...

Fuck.

!d

Don't Disapoint...

2005-12-13T00:43:00.000-05:00

Unravel me
A distant cord
On the outside is forgotten
A constant need
To get along
And the animal awakens
And all I feel is black and white
The road is long
The memory slides
To the whole of my undoing
Put aside
I put away
I push it back to get through each day

And all I feel is black and white
And I’m wound up small and tight
And I don’t know who I am
Everybody loves you when you’re easy
Everybody hates when you’re a bore
Everyone is waiting for your entrance so
Don’t disappoint them
Unravel me
Untie this chord
The very center of our union
Is caving in
I can’t endure
I am the archive of our failure

And all I feel is black and white
And I’m wound up small and tight
And I don’t know who I am
Everybody loves you when you’re easy
Everybody hates when you’re a bore
Everyone is waiting for your entrance so
Don’t disappoint them
Everybody loves you when you’re easy so
Don’t disappoint them
Don’t disappoint them...

-!d

Lucky lucky, you're so lucky...

2005-12-09T16:14:00.000-05:00

I'm in love with this boy. He's in the class I'm suffering through now. This is a bad picture of him, but take my word for it- he's beautiful. Not very bright, but then the straight ones usually aren't. I wish this class wasn't so damn boring. !d

Fun New Tricks!

2005-12-09T04:48:00.000-05:00

I just learned how to send photos from my phone directly from wherever I am to the blog. I'm awesome!

I want this for Christmas

Buy this for me.

Five A.M. Friday Morning; Thursday Night, Far From Sleep...

2005-12-09T03:52:00.000-05:00

Can't sleep. Wish I were dead. Ugh...

It's forever until come home.

It's about to snow here... it may have already started... We're supposed to have three to six inches tomorrow. Seems like enough to shut down the school. In my book.

Someone should move here so I can be amused on nights like this.

!d

Alliteration? I think not...

2005-12-08T13:26:00.000-05:00

Frankly I'm not having the best day so far. At drawing class, I just wasn't doing well... Drawing just wasn't happening for me. Instead of staying for the whole class, I left at lunch and now I'm back home.

Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to my next class. English Lit and Writing. Ends at six. Doing my homework for it right now.... Seems stupid, but I like being prepared even if the class is horrible.

Tonight, have lots of home work... Over this semester- it needs to end.

Stupid fifteen days left. Taking forever to get here. Overtired, lazy stupid fifteen days. Poop.

Reading This.

!d

And I See No Bravery...

2005-12-04T19:28:00.000-05:00

So I’ve avoided writing anything since I’ve gotten back because there hasn’t been much positive stuff to write about. The trip was good for me. But it was excruciating. And now I’m back here.

It was certainly good to see people that I like again, and people who can hold up at least a fraction of a conversation without sounding like a whiney teenager. Not that I certainly don’t, sometimes. But I’d like to think that for the most part I have it under control.

But the drama with the family seems never to conclude or even quell slightly. It’s so fucking draining. My father told me that he thought that I was his only hope and he was so glad I was doing so well because I was the one he had faith in. I don’t know what to do with that.

I had a fight with *K and we ended up crying and resolving nothing, really. I feel very distant from her. She’s pushed me away, and in a knee-jerk self defense maneuver, I’ve push her equally far away. I still love her. But I don’t feel like I know what to do with her anymore. She spent most of my trip busy with other people and making excuses. We got a tiny bit of ‘us time’ in but it doesn’t count for much when you’ve been apart for months and are looking at more months ahead. So that killed me.

My stepmother had a cyst removed from her lung three weeks ago and found only over thanksgiving to tell me about it.

My sister is more depressing than ever. She has no job; she’s broken up with Kevin but moved directly to a substitute Kevin. She drinks all the time. She refers to Vodka as her ‘only friend.’ I don’t know what her way out is going to be. I can’t help but associate her with a Ben Folds song. She’s killing me. And I can't communicate with her. We have nothing to say to each other. It's hard for me to look at her.

That’s another reason I haven’t written anything. Reading her blog makes me sorry for people who read mine. And I hate posting entries about how sad and lonely I am. But it seems to be the only feeling I can identify these days.

And I feel it now. All over. I wish there were just some way for me to throw myself completely into my schoolwork and ignore the whole emotion. I know people who’ve done that. It never works out well, but maybe it’s a temporary fix. I could use one now. My prescriptions are running low and I need to come up with plan B.

I went for a walk last night because I was going to lose my mind if I sat here alone for another Saturday night. I walked through the east village and the west village and Astor Place. I played Rent on my ipod and danced through Tompkins Square park. I’ve stopped caring what people think of me on the street.

I don’t know what I was looking to find. My soul mate in a park in the middle the night? Someone who’s having the same emotional messiness that I am? Someone who doesn’t think I’m ridiculous for being there? Someone who doesn’t think I’m ridiculous for feeling like this.

Why do I need someone so badly? Why am I so empty right now? This has never been my way. But goddamn it if I don’t think about it all the time.

What is going on in my brain?

What's going on with my heart?

!d

I love New York...

2005-11-20T12:45:00.000-05:00

So I'm off to the homeland now. I have to leave my beautiful city behind to see my beautiful friends who will be waiting for me. I'm irrationally excited, because I very clearly remember not liking St. Petersburg/Clearwater, but I miss my peoples so much that it doesn't make a difference. LAW* and MoMo are meeting me at the airport and we're going to have fun fabulous times. If you read this and you don't live there, please feel free to be wicked envious. If you live there, gimme a call! We'll have all sorts of fun!

I'm only putting this here because there will probably be a lag between updates. I don't expect to be be blogging from there, but I guess it's possible. All I'm saying is don't count on it.

Yea!

!d

Me; without the handcuffs...

2005-11-18T18:49:00.000-05:00

I’m mad. I find it’s best to blog when I’m mad. They end up being funnier and get my madness out. I’m mad because the only people I can fucking stand around here are both being whiney bitches and refusing to go to a fucking movie that we all really wanted to see. We’re too poor… whaa…. Mommie and daddy send us our money and we’ve never had to work for fucking anything in our lives… it’s so hard to be poor.

Well fuck you then. This is the first Friday I can actually afford to do stuff and this was stuff I really wanted to do. So they can fucking fuck themselves. Selfish bitches. Damnit. I wish my real friends were up here.

So anyway. Now that I’ve gotten that off of my chest, the real reason I’m really pissed off about this? Because I’m alone. And I was talking with T* about this the other night and as hard as I tried to convince him (and myself, it turned out) otherwise, I really want to be in a relationship. I want something solid and real. I want someone I can wake up with and not want to throw from the room immediately. I want someone to read the goddamned newspaper with me on Sundays and to go to Barns & Noble when I don’t have anything better to do.

I have a great guy up here for sex. And that’s great. He’s beautiful. We work well together. But he’s entirely in the closet and he isn’t looking for what I’m looking for. And I would never impose that upon him because I don’t think we have almost anything in common outside of an attraction to each other’s penises. So there’s nothing further to do with that.

But I do want someone to be there for me. And to be my friend and to just fucking hold me. And I realize that that sounds childish and effeminate. But Jesus Fucking Christ. It’s what I want, OK? It just is. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want someone to hold me and accept me and make up for the fact that everyone else in the world doesn’t quite fucking get it.

So the bottom line? I’m lonely. Not in the sense that I’m going to march out and do something about it right now. But in the sense that it consumes me. In the sense that it affects the way I look at strangers and it affects the way I treat the people around me. And in the sense that I can see it and smell it and feel it and taste it almost every morning I wake up. It’s that nauseating feeling that I have to wake up again and pretend to have my shit in order so that nobody sees what a fucking mess I am in reality. It’s that feeling that I’m never going to be quite clean enough or my skin isn’t going to be quite smooth enough or my teeth aren’t going to be quite white enough. It’s that feeling that I’m never going to be quite enough. Not necessarily for someone else. But for me.

Am I enough?

!d

Too Sick to do Arithmetic...

2005-11-14T03:02:00.000-05:00

It’s good to be up and around again. For those who aren’t here, or I didn’t call to bitch to, I’ve been really really really ridiculous sick this weekend. It’s been pretty much shitty. But today I woke up feeling better and read for my class and then did work for my internship. So I may survive my attack of Avian Flu better than previously expected.

In other news, I’m a bit high right now. Stoned, to be more specific, and although I know I posted some moratorium about stoned/drunk posts earlier, I’m repealing it because I never pay attention to it anyway.

Otherwise, nothing else of note to report. Going to be home for the Thanksgiving deals. That’ll be good. I’m excited.

!d

The Hardest Part is Having Nothing To Blog About...

2005-11-09T23:32:00.000-05:00

I don’t know what to say. I don’t have anything to say, really. It just seemed like I hadn’t posted in a while so… I’m posting.

Veronica Mars was great tonight. As always.

I have few opinions about things tonight.

I’m feeling very moody.

I’m avoiding homework for both school and my internship.

I’ve taken quite a sum of Vallium and plan to sleep for a while.

Nothing of note.

So what you get in lieu of actual post is the ultimate blog-filler:

SONG LYRICS!

-----

And the hardest part
Was letting go, not taking part
was the hardest part
And the strangest thing
was waiting for that bell to ring
It was the strangest start

I could feel it go down
Bittersweet I could taste in my mouth
Silver line in the cloud
Oh and I wish that I could work it out

And the hardest part
was letting go, not taking part
You really broke my heart, oh
And I tried to sing
But I couldn't think of anything
And that was the hardest part of all

I could feel it go down
You left the sweetest taste in my mouth
The silver line in the cloud
Oh and I, oh and I, I wonder what it's all about
I wonder what it's all about

Everything I know is wrong
Everything I do, it just comes undone
And everything is torn apart
And thats the hardest part, that's the hardest part
Yeah that's the hardest part,oh that's the hardest part

----

So yeah. Get that if you do.

If you don’t. Well.

That’s the way it goes.

!d

The Wonders of the Amazon...

2005-10-31T23:02:00.000-05:00

Why does Amazon.com carry products like this?

Truly, the best part is the customer review comments.

What else can I say?

!d

EDIT:

They removed the best comment. Nevermind. Just enjoy the ridiculousness.

!d

I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I’m smart, capable, and most importantly, I’m free in all the ways you wish you could be…

2005-10-30T20:58:00.000-05:00

Yes. I realize that I’m six years behind, and you may not actually believe this, but I’d never seen Fight Club until tonight. So excuse that and continue reading regardless.

There never needs to be another movie made in the history of the fucking free world because the greatest movie that has and will ever be made is this one. There are other movies that are good and many that I can watch over and over again. But there will never be a movie as good as Fight Club. The first half of the movie presents the ultimate homosexual relationship between a modern day Felix and Oscar. The second half scrapes up, bakes, and represents our entire culture into the steaming pile of nonsensical bullshit that it really is. I fail to believe that anyone I know fully comprehends the magnitude of this film.

I do not have a large enough vocabulary to express my feelings for this film and so here is where I must cease. But let me first present an article that proposes Tyler and “Jack” as a flash-forward Calvin and Hobbes.

I’m dumbfounded by the brilliance I have witnessed.

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part VIII...

2005-10-25T11:11:00.000-04:00

So they’ve just now taken him. It’s eleven. We’ve been here for six hours almost. I’m suddenly very tired. It’s like I was artificially staying awake while he was here. For comfort? I don’t know. But now I’m stricken with exhaustion beyond belief. It’s exhausting just to type now. I’m worried. I know there’s no cause for it. And it does nothing despite making me feel like I’m doing the right thing. Worrying.

They expect it will take an hour and we’re allowed to leave immediately after that. We should be home by four at the latest, I expect, and I should have the evening free to do something, if I so choose. We’ll see how excruciatingly tired I am by then. Somehow I don’t expect it will get better.

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part VII...

2005-10-25T09:58:00.000-04:00

Waiting sucks. I’m done waiting. We’ve been here since six and nothing’s happening.

Sucks.

Watched Hitchcock’s Vertigo last night. That was excellent. I was very impressed. I thought I had seen it before, but I didn’t remember anything of the ending, so clearly I hadn’t. If you haven’t seen this movie, do. If you have. Well... Congratulations. Me too.

I don’t have anything interesting to discuss here. The people across from us in the room are all at once distracting and disgusting. They’re clearly backwoods folks who had to come into the big city to get their doctor business taken care of. Like scary, stereotypical, backwoods people. Think Squidbillies, but with less charming personalities. And the oldest man of the bunch looks rather like a flesh coloured gourd with a face. His face is impossibly lined and weathered. This is what eating meat and drinking milk does to you. That, and inbreeding. And Flannel. Lots of flannel. The woman has on what appears to be a homemade Christmas sweater. In October. And the actual patient looks a great deal like Uncle Fester. But unconscious. And with a halo.

They shouldn’t make us all sit together like this. It’s cruel. I can’t imagine if there were more of us.

Paul is asleep now. Ali’s grading papers and humming to herself. Dad’s wandered off.

Does anyone actually think this is going to make things back to normal?

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part VI...

2005-10-25T09:34:00.000-04:00

Oh good... now comes the fun part. Waiting. I’ve tried everything I know to make the internet work, but that doesn’t look like an option. I expect that the hospital must have some sort of firewall up that’s preventing me from getting a router address. I can get an IP and a subnet mask, but not a router number. Frustrating. I hate when I can’t make things work. Plus i was hoping I could get something done. I feel like I haven’t checked my email in days. Well. I haven’t. But it feels like longer.

Dad seems remarkably calm. But I suppose that could be the vallium. He’s sitting next to me in the waiting room reading. I would be terrified if I were him. I guess that’s how it goes. You get numb to it after a while. I expect that he doesn’t feel anything at all about this. No one really wants to address the fact that this is the last chance. If this doesn’t do what it’s supposed to, there really isn’t anything else to be done. It’s a long slow progression towards death. Blindness. Incapacitating headaches. But no one wants to think about that.

I’ve now successfully written five pages worth of thoughts here. No one is going to want to read this. But then I don’t really do this for other people. And if you have made it this far in the adventure, well... good for you. It’s important documentation. For the movie especially. I was trying to cast it in my head earlier. It’s tough. If I made it now, it would be easy. But if I have to wait, the actors I want are going to age too much. Ali is obviously first choice Sarah Jessica Parker, second choice... I don’t know. Dad is Tom Hanks first and Robert Redford second. Partly because of the horse whisperer stuff. Paul, I’d love to have Michael Caine or someone of the like. But without the accent.

I’m more of a tough call on the other hand. I’m thinking Hayden Christiansen. But I’d really like someone better looking. And without the lazy eye. Anyone have thoughts?

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part V...

2005-10-25T08:08:00.000-04:00

Just saw dad with the halo on. It’s more bothersome that I expected. He’s a little loopy from the vallium and the local. But I guess that’s better than being upset about this or leaving. Which was the experience last time. When they had to operate. That was a good time.

We were just told that his treatment is one of the shorter ones. It’s only going to take half an hour once they actually get started. So good.

I really want a cigarette and a scotch. Or a vodka rocks. That’s really more of a breakfast drink.

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part IV...

2005-10-25T06:40:00.000-04:00

So. Morning of. It’s very early. I was up at five.

Early morning is not an attractive side of me. But then it isn’t about me.

We’re at the hospital. We’re in the waiting room with four other people for the moment.

Old. It smells like old here. It smells like when my grandfather was in the hospital.

The people next to me are arguing the merits of having a Denny’s adjacent to the hotel. They’re angry that Holiday Inn is so expensive. I miss New York muchly.

Paul is wandering restlessly. It’s irritating. Ali’s grading papers. Dad’s with the nurse, waiting for the doctor to come and attach the spinal halo.

This is scary. I’m sure there will be more today. And I’ve just spotted an ethernet port that I may try to use to post these things. It’s been frustrating to have a computer with me and no internet access. And no Word to spell check things. But then we are in the woods. I hate Gainesville.

Blogcards from the edge Part IIIb...

2005-10-24T23:05:00.000-04:00

I’ve had a lot of dreams lately. Lots of dreams that I’m remembering. Lots of dreams about S. I never know what to make of that. It usually means something is up with the person I’m dreaming about if I’m thinking about them that much. I wish I could see him right now. I miss him.

God. Could this be more maudlin?

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part III...

2005-10-24T21:05:00.000-04:00

Loooonggg day. We met with the doctors that will be conducting the radiation today. We had to wait for over an hour and a half. The news wasn’t good but apparently was better than expected. They will be able to perform the radiation and expect that dad will make a full recovery, back to normal activity, in about three weeks. I don’t know how much stock I put into that, but everyone else seemed remarkably comforted. The main doctor was actually kind of attractive, but quite obviously in the closet. He was obviously subverting by way of his astounding career. You know the story- work hard enough, take enough cases, establish enough of a career, and you never are required to act on any sort of social instincts or physical wants. But you reach an age like that, are a prominent physician, and make a substantial income and aren’t married? Something’s up. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Jack Berger though.

Tension is not really being spoken of, but is perceptible. Ali just acts crazy and asks inappropriate questions at the doctor’s office; Paul is entirely silent until someone addresses him directly, then he responds like Peter Griffen when he can’t control the volume of his voice. “So, Mr. Goldenfarb, you used to be an oncologist?” “YES! how do things look?” It would be funny if it weren’t so awkward. Dad is overconfident as he can be, but I think he may be a little scared, even if he won’t admit it. He must be. I am.

Tomorrow we go to Shands at six AM and have to sit and wait until it’s over. They don’t have a scheduled time to do this, as they do large groups of them at a time and there are four people in my father’s group. So there’s not even an estimate as to when he will be finished. The procedure was well explained though, and consists of a computer guided and constructed laser system that will specifically target the tumor and nothing else. There is a percentage of a chance that ‘scatter radiation’ can cause permanent blindness, but the percentage is low, and due to the fact that this has already been surgically removed once, this is kind of the last option. I’m scared for him.

I don’t know what else to write other than that this trip will be over soon and we’ll be able to be away from tiny situations and inane uncomfortable conversation. That will be good. I’m not looking forward to going back to school. I have lots of homework to do and lots more to think about.

I’m glad that UF never panned out though. Spending this time here has made me realize that if I were forced to live here, I would have lost my mind. There is nothing here. Literally nothing. I don’t know how S made it as long as he did. It’s desolate. And the people are markedly less attractive than New Yorkers. Perhaps I simply can’t appreciate its more rustic qualities, though.

I miss Sex and the City.

Operation tomorrow.

!d

Blogcards from the edge Part II...

2005-10-23T15:03:00.000-04:00

Having taken a Xanex and had a cigarette, I feel much better about this trip. It may be tolerable. Ali is at this moment clipping her fingernails about half a foot away from me in the back seat, so that might break my calm. But for now, I’m good.

Dad just told me that he received an email from my all-but-hermited aunt in Georgia last night talking about the past and the “good times” they had together. I don’t know why that struck me as so odd. But it did. She’s odd in general. Just about anything I hear about her strikes me as odd. She left her husband in Ft. Lauderdale and just moved to the mountains in Georgia with their Basset Hound, Smalls. Evidently now, though, he’s moved with her and they’re going to stay together. I can’t say I particularly care one way or another, but it’s weird because of the estranged status of that particular relationship with the rest of my family.

Once upon a time, she wrote my father off in a postcard and told my mother (her sister) that she was making a horrible mistake by leaving him and deserting my sister and I. My mother never really forgave her for that. And as far as I know, she’s never apologized for it. She just sort of assumes that time makes things better. I guess.

Hard to explain why people do what they do. Especially when they’re pretty much nuts.

I’ve decided this will be a series, so expect more blogcards.

!d

Blogcards from the edge...

2005-10-23T14:00:00.000-04:00

So here goes.... mobile blogging... I’m on my dad’s laptop in the car and don’t really have anything else to do so I figured I’d whip up a post.

It’s going to be a strange trip... I can tell already. And we’re still in Clearwater. It’s sort of like an odd family car-trip to a destination that none of us really wants to go to. For the record, the road trip consists of Dad driving, Paul riding shotgun, and Ali and I in the back seat. We’ve already had to turn around once because we forgot some paperwork or something. I’m not really sure.

Ummmm... so far.... nothing. Much uncomfortable silence filled with rambling blabber about medical hoo-ha and what we’re all expecting from this.

It’s good to see my dad again. I feel about a million times better just being able to touch him and talk to him face to face. He looks better than I expected too. I don’t really know what I did expect, but there was much room for concern.

My seventh grade biology teacher says hello to me. I find that strange and disconcerting.

I really want a cigarette.

I also really want Madonna’s stupid song out of my head. I’m hung up. I’m hung up on you. Bah. It’s Kylie Minogue gone horribly wrong and boring.

I should have brought a Kabbalah book with me. I need some faux spirituality right now.

More later.

!d

WTF, BTW...

2005-10-22T22:48:00.000-04:00

While I was busy bitching about my silly whiny little boy problems, a good friend of mine suffered a great and unexpected loss. Being a billion miles away, I haven't been able to be as supportive as I should have been. I'm truly, truly sorry and I can't imagine what you must be going through. I wish I knew some sort of combination of words that fix this or change how you feel, but I don't. All I can say is that I love you, and I'm thinking about you.

I'm sorry.

!d

I'd like one new family, with a side of my own sanity back, please...

2005-10-22T14:28:00.000-04:00

Fuck.

It’s not going to be a good post, so If you’re looking for good news, surf on, homie.

I’m just in a bad mood. I expect it to last for about six days.

For those who don’t know, I’m going home for about a week because my dad’s having surgery. Drama as always at the Baylor household.

I woke up late for class today, so I didn’t go. This never helps my mood stuff. I feel like a slacker and that I should just be back at USF skipping classes. I hate that. I don’t know what my problem is.

But this adventure is not going to be a fun one. Sunday may be nice, but I will have been up since I woke up this ~~morning~~ afternoon. But then Monday I go to Gainesville with dad, Ali and her father. Should be interesting, to say the least. Then Tuesday, they do the operation and allegedly, he’s able to go home that night. I don’t know what that means or how I feel about it. Honestly? I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m masking it with cool indifference. Not well. It’s coming across as supremely depressive.

Ugh.

And, on top of that messiness, I’m watching ‘Caroline in the City.’ What’s wrong with white people? How did this show stay on the air for as long as it did?

I’m really hating myself right now.

I’ll do my best to update while I’m gone; I should have some down time at some point.

No promises, though.

!d

Why I Hate Christina Applegate...

2005-10-20T17:41:00.000-04:00

Ok. That’s a bit harsh. I don’t really hate her. It’s close to hate… maybe a sibling of hate, but really just severe, severe dislike. I just don’t think I should be forced to be subjected to this annoying little ‘Broadway Darling’ every time I open a newspaper or watch TV.

Today, for example, she was the celebrity guest on Martha Stewart. She brings absolutely nothing to the party and seems so remarkably listless and annoying that she’s actually sucking the interesting out of other people. Her voice was all gravelly (I can’t imagine how she sings on that every night – I’d bet it wasn’t pretty) and she seemed entirely incompetent. She couldn’t stick gummy things in a cupcake.

What is it that you do that we should care about, Ms. Bundy? Oop… I mean Applegate. Whatever.

Bottom line is, I no longer wish to be slapped in the face with the poor man’s Carrie Bradshaw every time I go to Playbill.com or walk down Madison Avenue.

LEAVE ME ALONE, CHRISTINA APPLEGATE!

In other news, I’m quite thoroughly annoyed by posters that have been put up all over my school for the Spring Break Volunteer Project. I understand that building houses for people is an amazing thing, and that Mr. Carter was a saint for establishing and promoting the program, but for crying out loud, GET THE FUCKING NAME RIGHT! God- that is so disrespectful. Literally hundreds of handmade fliers are up everywhere advertising something called “Habitat for Humanities.” Now I ask you. Is this one grand house that we’re going to build for some sort of humanities class? Is that what this is? Think about what you’re fucking writing. That doesn’t even make any damn sense! PROOF READ, you illiterate fool! You’re putting up signs that HUNDREDS of people are going to read. Say it with me: HABBITAT (singular – they only get one each) for HUMANITY (as in human kind – not humanities, as in the study of said humans).

There. I feel better.

And whoever made these posters will clearly never read this, because obviously, reading isn’t something they do on a regular basis.

Meh.

!d

Times Like These, A Girl Could Use A... Umm... Good Movie...

2005-10-19T15:16:00.000-04:00

I'm watching Dark Water and I'm clearly so engrossed in it that I've taken time out to write while it's happening. I can't really explain why I don't like this movie. It's complicated. Mostly it's boring. I've watched episodes of the X Files that were more frightening and frankly, better explained. In regards to this aquatic nightmare, however, it seems that Jennifer Connolly has a crappy apartment and then they made a movie about it. It's actually remarkably similar to my dorm room, now that I think about it. Except for the leaky ceiling, we do have loud people on the next floor up, nasty water that comes out of the faucet at irregular intervals, and grumpy service people who schluff responsibility on to other people. Sound like a fascinating storyline for a scary scary movie? Yeah. I don't think so either.

In other news, I've really accomplished nothing of merit today. I woke up, had coffee, watched Martha Stewart, and then went to Madison Sq. Park to read for a while. Lunch hour there is impossibly busy and I ended up feeling like I was searching for the 'cool table' in high school all over again. As usually happened in high school, I wound up in the smelly part of the park, next to the dog run, and had teenagers discussing how much they were 'wicked wasted' last night. Mostly I ignored them and went about my reading.

Ok... now the movie really makes no sense. It's raining indoors, and Jennifer Connolly just saw evil Jennifer Connolly whom she thought was her mother? I guess? and now it was a dream. Wow. People got paid for this. A lot of money was spent to make this movie. I think any movie in which "brown water" is listed as a special effect, should be seriously reexamined at the production phase.

I don't think I want to write about it any more, so this is the last you'll hear of it.

With any luck.

!d

Better than bad, It's Good!

2005-10-18T13:56:00.000-04:00

So I’ve spent pretty much the past two weeks waiting with baited breath to hear from a very important internship with the Broadway Artists’ Alliance. After much suspense, and several premature letdowns, I awoke this morning to find this email in my inbox:

From: Workshopinform@aol.com
Subject: Re: Per our previous conversation...
Date: October 18, 2005 9:55:24 AM EDT
To: dbaylor@sva.edu

Wonderful, David! Welcome aboard!
We'll be in touch later today!

Jennifer Johns
Master Class Program Director
Broadway Artists Alliance
www.broadwayartistsalliance.org

So yeah. Feel free to be impossibly jealous of me. Or laugh at the amount of work I’m going to have to do to work this into my foundation classwork. I’m crazy. But the connections here are ridiculous. These people know EVERYONE and I’m going to be doing a job similar to what I want to do once I graduate.

I’m pretty much fucking awesome.

!d

EDIT-

I just got my email account! I officially work there! How exciting is that!?

Very.

I wasn't allowed to have email at Stetson. Yea for the new job! This place is great.

I've also completed and submitted my first assignment from the BAA and they thought it was "fantastic!" and "just what they were looking for." If I don't get fired from this job, it will easily pass as the best experience of my life.

!d

Envy Isn't A Flattering Colour...

2005-10-16T20:00:00.000-04:00

Having still not paid off my previous iPod bill, I am now overcome with the desire to own this one. I hate that. I hate how attracted to its sleek shiny lines and full colour screen (now with video) I am. I want it so bad that I could give up food for the rest of the year just to own it.

Bottom line, someone needs to purchase this for me.

OR FEAR MY WRATH, BITCHES!

!d

The Opposite of Sleep Deprevation

2005-10-16T17:29:00.000-04:00

Hoo boy.

I think something may seriously be wrong with the part of my brain that regulates sleeping. I can literally sleep any time, for any length of time, at any place. If it came on suddenly and uncontrollably, I’d call it narcolepsy, but since I seem to be somewhat in control of it, I’m going to go ahead and assume that this is my superpower. I am (wait for it… wait for it… Susupensful musical buildup…)

SLEEP BOY!!!!!

I went to bed last night at one thirty or so and slept until four PM this afternoon. That is not ok. Normal people do not do this.

SLEEP BOY DOES, THOUGH!!!

Ugh… I think the funny in that has worn down.

Went with people to the 24 Hour Diner last night for “disco fries” which, though they looked immpossibly awesome, were untouchable by yours truly. So I went with the old standby – what I like to call the ‘David Baylor.’ In other words, a big glass of overpriced vodka. Good for me. Had a nice time, though I am thuroughly annoyed with the absence of my real friends in this stupid city. It would have been a spectacular time had T or K* (and the rest… you know who you are), but instead was a mediocre time with people who were moderately funny and ridiculously younger than me.

I swear to god the age thing isn’t arrogance on my part. I just really feel fucking old. I appreciate where these people are. But I did that. I had those times when I was that age. I don’t particularly want to do it again. And… I don’t know. It just feels awkward. I can’t really rationalize it here.

So I’ll move on. Things that I think are great right now include:

-Brendan Small’s ‘Home Movies’
-Cigarettes
-Sarah McLaghlan’s ‘Bloom: The Remix Album’
-Coffee

That’s where I am.

I should really go grocery shopping tonight. I’m officially out of food that isn’t Ramen noodles.

Yeah.

!d

Is this thing on?

2005-10-14T10:52:00.000-04:00

Ok. So here goes.

Again.

I've been waiting for some really big event or review or emotion to start up the blog again, but nothing seems to be on the horizon, and I don't have anything to do in class right now, so I suppose this is as good a time as any to crank 'er back up.

As you may or may not know from my oh-so-very-loose descriptions on previous entries, I have (since the last post) relocated to New York City; The Windy Apple. Or something like that.

I'm in school here at the School of Visual Arts studying Graphic Design. It's amazing and I'm genuinely having a good time here.

It's not all fun and games, though, as I've been having some trouble adjusting to being so far away from people I actually like. The people here are very young and seem to have never done anything for themselves. Maybe that's a condition of first year dorm life, maybe a condition of art school. Either way, I'm oddly terribly bothered by it. People I know have called home to ask how to wash towels. That isn't ok kids. You should not have made it twenty years into your life and not had to do your own laundry. Something is amiss here.

Or, perhaps I'm just too independent for my own good. I've been washing and ironing my own clothes since I was ten. I've lived on my own for a time, now, and maybe I've just already forgotten how bizarre it is at first.

Maybe.

Or maybe these are whiney rich kids who've never had to deal with any sort of conflict in their shiny, short, little lives.

But then, I'm a cynic at heart.

Welcome back, !d

Bitch Fest 2005!

2005-07-22T15:51:00.000-04:00

So yeah. I’m sitting at work right now and haven’t had anything to do for about five hundred years. I believe I’ve mentioned before how much I hate having to synthesize work and when Connie’s not here, I’m just not gonna do it. It’s bullshit.

On top of my no work, I forgot to take my Prevacid last night because I was too ~~high~~ ~~drunk~~ tired. So yeah. I’m running on little sleep, my stomach hurts like WO, and I wanna go home.

On the flip side, home isn’t really all that great either. I got a big long lecture last night about keeping M2 happy. Apparently, she’s secretly pissed off that I like to go to sleep with the TV on because I’m evidently going to “use it all up.” Now, granted, it’s her TV and if she wants to use it again after I’m gone, then super. But damn. How the fuck does one USE UP a TV? Seriously?

What? And I don’t know... I’m just hating living there right now. I mean, it’s easy, yeah. It’s free. Yeah. But fuck. I hate it. A lot.

So yeah.

Job = poopy.

Home = poopy.

On the whole = fine.

Had a super time at Le Castle last night. Thanks to ma ladies for bein’ fly an shit. Good times, fuckers; good times. Just the right amount of awful music to make Lose Control easily the best song ever. Thanks Missy.

!d

Mission to Mars...

2005-07-21T13:25:00.000-04:00

Or why Veronica Mars is the best show on television right now.

I can’t say how constantly amazed I am by this show. I just am. And I never ever intended to be. I started watching it because it was well advertised before the season kicked up (and frankly, because it was on before the Tay Diggs show, Kevin Hill, that I really wanted to watch) and haven’t looked back since.

In retrospect, KH turned out to be an utter pile of crapola, only sporadically made slightly better through guest appearances by his ~~beard~~ wife, Idina Menzel (who, by the way, may be one of the all time worst television actresses).

Veronica, on the other hand, proved itself to be a fully underrated gem of a show with snappy writing, highly implausible but attention-grabbing plots, and high-strung family drama. I was all about it. Veronica, played by the recent Tish grad Kristen Bell (who was also Mary Lane in Reefer Madness off Broadway) is young looking enough to pass as a high school student (*Ahem* OC, I’m looking in your direction) but smart enough to play to an older audience. She’s been through some shit and doesn’t care to take it from her peers. I’d buy it. Her dialogue, while commonly unusually clicky and witty, occasionally borders on trite and ridiculous – “That was how I lost my virginity; just your basic rum, coke, and a roofie.” But it’s easy to look past.

Playing off of sister shows Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Charmed, Veronica steers in the other direction, nearly entirely. Veronica is a high school student with extraordinary powers to battle evil and wrongdoing, but they’re all of her own devising. She wins because she tries hard, not because she has magic or the ‘slayer gene.’ It’s an uplifting message that says her brain, cunning, and wit will beat anyone’s strength and lies, any day of the week.

I personally can’t wait until this season comes out on DVD and I can watch every episode back to back to back.

Finally, UPN did something right (*Ahem* Chaotic, we’re looking at you...)

!d

Now With 38% More Blog!

2005-07-20T14:20:00.000-04:00

Hiatus is over! America is super! DavidGoesToFrance.blogspot.com is finished!

So much to celebrate and so little interest in doing so.

I’m thrilled to be back in my own world here having completed a truly amazing five weeks in France (plus two or three extra at home doing nothing), and now I return to ICHBW.

Good times.

Nothing significant to say really, but here’s a funny picture to keep you amused until I can think of something newsworthy (or at least blogworthy) to report:

!d

Hi ho, Hi ho...

2005-05-31T09:29:00.000-04:00

So it's the morning of, and I've defintely waited until the last minute here.

I want to thank everyone for their comments on my previous entry. It was nice to have something intellectual said in the comments post instead of "ha ha ha ha... Asshat!" So thank you for that.

Also, I'd like to temorparily redirect everyone to the new Journal du Jour, ParisBlog!

Please enjoy this while ICHBW is on hiatus in France.

Off to the airport now!

!d

http://davidgoestofrance.blogspot.com

Kingdom of Heaven

2005-05-26T15:53:00.000-04:00

Saw Kingdom of Heaven last night. At least I think I did. At then end I wasn’t entirely sure I’d seen a movie at all. I felt as though I’d actually BEEN through the Crusades. In any other movie, this would be great; feel like you’re in it, connect with the characters, etc. But in this movie, I felt like I might have been a horse in the Crusades. I know I was there, but everyone was talking all crazy and yelling and stabbing each other and it was all I could do to fall asleep to save myself the torment of confusion that was whirling around me.

Aside from that, the movie had some of the strangest dialogue I’ve seen in a major motion picture release since, well, ever. Worse than that house movie. The one about the alleged “horror.” Some of my particular favorites include:

“I once fought for two days with an arrow in my testicle.”

“How can you be in hell, when you’re in my heart?”

“So—How do you find Jerusalem?”

The best assumption I can make is that Ridley Scott has some sort of degenerative brain disease that is destroying his career from the inside out. He clearly still knows how to make an epic movie (this was nothing if not EPIC) but appears to have lost the ability to tell any sort of comprehensible story. I was joking in the introductory paragraph, but seriously, I did not understand a majority of what went on. And it made me feel ignorant. Which I know I’m not. Only after reading several reviews and summaries did I have even the vaguest idea that there was some battle between the Muslims and Christians – a fundamental aspect to the alleged storyline.

There were so many battles that they all sort of merged into one and it was often hard to comprehend which side was winning. And as a final DorkNote: The final battle bared a huuuge resemblance to final battle in The Lord of The Rings. I long for Orlando’s Elvin past. This was not his most impressive work.

I’ll wait for Paris, je t'aime, thanks.

!d

Asexual Is The New Gay!

2005-05-26T10:16:00.000-04:00

So I’ve spent most of the morning reading an article about asexuality. It has a collection of interviews with people who define themselves as “asexual” or “nonsexual” and interviews with people who have done research on it. It’s oddly fascinating. I don’t know that I believe it (in fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t) but the article makes a compelling case for it, and the people seem genuinely convinced of this. But I tend to side on the team of “something is wrong with you that made you this way.”

Having said that, I sound like a big hypocrite. That was (is) the exact argument used for years against gay people who claimed that it was biological and out of their control. So I’m torn as to what to believe. I do not comprehend (entirely my problem, I’m sure) how a person could literally have NO sex drive in any direction. It just doesn’t compute. It sounds like a copout for “my uncle used to touch me and now I associate sex with that.” I can’t understand how a person could NEVER feel that thing that makes you do insane stuff sometimes. That weird compulsion to just maul someone because they’re so attractive. To just want to be a part of them. It’s hard to put into words. I feel an interpretive dance might be more appropriate.

If it isn’t a scapegoat for some hard-headed trauma, then there is a valid point to be made in favor of anti-discrimination and education for/about these people. If this is a real thing, then it needs to be explored and studied. If it isn’t, there are still some shirts that I find really amusing.

I don’t know what to think.

!d

Read the article here.

Well That's Just Depressing...

2005-05-24T16:21:00.000-04:00

Baylor is the #4184 most common last name.
0.003% of last names in the US are Baylor.
Around 7500 US last names are Baylor!
source namestatistics.com

We Only Help Customers In Cars

2005-05-24T10:01:00.000-04:00

So here’s me, and here’s K Sunday night:

!d: So... You wanna get Taco Bell before? Or after?
*k*: Well, Tom Goes To The Mayor is on in fifteen minutes. We can make it if we leave right this minute.
!d: Go!

Cut to- Sitting in the Taco Bell drive thru:

!d: Kelly Clarkson is AWESOME!
*k*: Why is there... some... woman... ohmygod...
Homeless Woman: Excuse me
*k*: Yeess?
HW: Can you give me a ride to Denny's?
*Sound of door locking*
*k*: Nope. We’re not going that way.
HW: But I’m homeless.
*k*: ...
*Sound of window rolling up*
Taco Bell Guy: Ma’am, please stop bothering the customers.
HW: (Indignantly) I’m a customer too!
TBG: No. No you’re not. We only help customers in cars.

*Scene*
------

And now, Heather Havrileski’s thoughts on Chaotic! (See: previous two entries) If I could write this well, these would also be my thoughts, since they match my feelings on the matter entirely. Please regard this as the last post on the subject and consider it closed.

That being said:

UPN's "Britney and Kevin: Chaotic" (Tuesdays at 9 p.m.), an absolutely unique show that's a complete departure from almost everything else on television today.

What makes it so different? You're going to have to use your powers of imagination to get a good answer to that one. So, close your eyes, and imagine for a moment that you have a teenage daughter. Imagine that your daughter isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and hasn't had anything of interest to say since she turned 10. Imagine that your daughter spends most of her time giggling, chain-smoking and talking about herself. Now, imagine that your daughter is something of a slut, but seems to have no criteria in choosing men, outside of the fact that they should be vaguely surly and illiterate.

Now imagine giving your daughter a camcorder! Imagine that your filthy slut daughter spends a year traveling the world, and gets married to a trashy young fellow along the way. Now imagine that she returns home and, in typical self-involved fashion, forces you to watch several hours of her self-recorded aimless banter, bad jokes and sexually suggestive idiocy.

"I've had sex three times today! Hee hee hee hee!" your daughter squeals at the camera. "Our sex is so good!"

Now, open your eyes. How do you feel? Pretty damn good, huh? You want to watch more, don't you? You can't believe how many universal themes of suffering and redemption were revealed therein, can you? You want to program your slut daughter's new show, "Britney and Kevin: Chaotic," into your TiVo right now, don't you?

Indeed, it's easily the Worst Show on Television, one that's, sadly, nowhere near the ballpark of So Bad It's Good but rather, lodged firmly in the realm of painfully, indescribably, irredeemably Bad. Only by using your powers of imagination can you conjure up the smallest taste of just how noxiously, horrendously Bad it is.

It's not just Britney, with her smokes and her manic idiocy, and Kevin, with his patchy facial hair and big diamond earrings, who grate on our nerves. (Doesn't Kevin remind you of that guy who played Claire's dirtbag boyfriend on "Six Feet Under," and then went on to play Theresa's dirtbag husband on "The O.C."?) When Britney grabs the camera and points it to her charmless entourage and asks, "What's yer favorite sexual position?" everyone, without fail, laughs hysterically like she's the most zanily irreverent human on earth -- instead of, say, flashing back to a really lame game of Truth or Dare they played in high school.

And look, when you invest just 10 minutes in this hideous time-suck, you're so desperate for a moment of levity or wit that you're willing to mistake even the dorkiest aside for an unguarded moment of genius. Sadly, though, the most insightful comment on the entire show occurs when Britney films Kevin in the shower, and he threatens her, saying, "Payback is a bitch." That's right. "Payback is a bitch" represents the most profound insight offered by Britney's new show.

-Al la Salon.com

Oy.

!d

Can You Handle My Blog, Pt. 2

2005-05-18T08:49:00.000-04:00

Open Letter to the Late Ms. Spears:

No. Evidently, I cannot, in fact, handle your truth. I'm sorry it took me this long to find it out.

Thank you for all of the fun you gave before this happened.

I'm sorry it had to end like this.

I'll always remember you the way you were.

-!d
-*k*

Can you handle my blog?

2005-05-16T22:17:00.000-04:00

This is really just a test of my new file sharing abilities.

I'm putting in a link to an mp3 I've uploaded. First person to correctly identify song title and singer gets a prize.

If the link doesn't work, I keep the prize.

GO!:

Song!

!d

EDIT-

Yeah. It didn't work. I'm pissed off. Anyone got any ideas for free file sharing/hosting sites? I need and don't want to pay.

!d

Pardon My PMS...

2005-05-16T14:07:00.000-04:00

So that last entry was entirely the result of my time of the month and small series of unfortunate coincidences. Things are much better now, due in no small part to the genuine concern from people who like me. I’m special.

I’m happy to report that things are working out, in general, much better than they were a week ago. More bullet points for your reading enjoyment:

-Car is fully operational and looks beautiful. My HRC and Kerry/Edwards stickers were razored at the service center so I peeled them off and put on new ones. All commie-liberal shit (pro-vegan, fuck the president, gay rights, etc...), but they make me smile.

-USF finally succumbed to my constant pestering and gave me what I wanted. I got my bill so that I could get my tuition reimbursement. I filed my application to take the CLAST (while informing them that I would not actually ever be taking the test), thus removing the hold on my Paris registration. So I should be right on track to get all signed up for that.

-Spoke repeatedly with Dr.’s office and got some things worked out. They have, at this point, faxed my vaccination records to SVA, so I should be eligible to register there. They have called in my Prevacid Rx, but failed to get the insurance override, so if I actually wanted to pick up that prescription, it would cost me $144. So boo on that one. But they’ll get it straightened out today. I’m sure of it. Or I’ll bomb them. Whichever.

So those are my crises in a nutshell.

The office just returned from a horrible lunch at my least favorite restaurant ever. I will never understand people’s ability to sit under giant stuffed carcasses and consume humungous portions of decaying charred flesh. Even when I ate meat, I couldn’t do this. My saving grace on the meat front was that I could pretend it wasn’t a former living body I was consuming. But when you’re confronted with its giant glassy eyes staring you down for the entire meal, this becomes slightly more difficult.

On top of this general air of disgust, I am always (reiterated: ALWAYS) treated like a second class citizen in places like this. I could see it on the woman’s face as I told her I didn’t want cheese on anything I was ordering. Her little pen slowed down and I could see the tiny, tiny wheels in her head clicking to a stop. The vast look of befuddlement consumed her expression and she locked up; “So you don’t want cheese on anything? Even on the salad?” Me: “No. No animal products at all please.” Her: “Well... what about onions?”

What the fuck about onions, bitch?

Needless to say, my PLAIN baked potato and my PLAIN garden salad took twice as long as everyone else’s food to arrive at the table, and she completely ignored me for the rest of the meal after delivering them.

Cost of Garden Salad: $2.99

Cost of Baked Potato: $1.99

Cost of Glass of Water: $0

Not tipping the crappy waitress who couldn’t get your supersimple order right and proceeded to lie to you about salsa that the restaurant “Doesn’t have,” even though it’s very clearly included on the Sierra Chicken and printed on the menu: Priceless.

David = 0 ; World = 9,987,445.2

2005-05-11T12:00:00.000-04:00

I officially give up.

You win, world. I made it this far, but cosmic forces have informed me, via a system of ridiculously overwhelming events, that I don't get to go any further. My list of complications is so long that even typing it here would cause more complications.

(The woman across from me won't stop talking so I apologize if this is erratic)

I don't even know where to begin. I don't know how to deal with this. It's too fucking much. Why did I want so much? Why did I need to have a full time job and try to go to Paris and eventually to escape to New York? Why am I even surprised that it's all crashing down around me now?

I know this sounds melodramatic, and that, sincerely, isn't my intention. I just feel incredibly overtaken by the amount of bullshit in my life right now. Here' some bullet points to catch everyone up to speed:

-Got my car back last night. It looks amazing. Better than brand new. But they fucked up my battery so that I won't even consider holding a charge. Which means I can't ever start it. Super. They also broke my goddamn passenger window. Once upon a time (read: before I brought the car to Progressive), my passenger window worked and the rear driver's side window did not. Now, Passenger window = broken. Driver's side rear = perfect working order. What was it they even needed to do that involved my power windows? Have to call them and complain. And my "assigned claims representative" is an asshole so I'm calling customer service to complain about him too.

-USF should be bombed. I've talked to literally eight different people about my registration hold that is preventing me from registering for my Paris classes (which I've already paid for) Each and every conversation goes exactly like this:

Me: My name is David Baylor and here is a lengthy description of my problem involving a TC HOLD on my OASIS account.

Them: Oh... Hmm... That's not really my department. Who told you to call me? No. No. That's not something I can do. You need to call (insert name of next person to have this conversation with). They can do that. If they can't, then nobody can.

Me: Thanks. You've been so very helpful.

I'm not going to get to go. I can feel it.

-My Dr. is a giant asshole. Well no. Not really. But his staff is entirely incompetent. They, 1., lost my vaccination record, forcing me to go have blood taken to do a titer check. 2., lost the test results from said blood work. And, 3., Failed to fax said record to SVA once it was found. So I STILL can't register for classes there. Fucking hell.

-I'm out of words to describe how I feel. Overwhelmed is close to how I feel. But it's actually more than that. I'm Over Overwhelmed. I'm never going to be prepared for my trip. I still have a hundred loose ends to tie up. I'm never going to be prepared for SVA even with a hundred extra years to tie up loose ends.

I'm exhausted and I'm fat and I fucking quit the world.

I fucking quit.

!d

I Dropped My Lip Gloss!

2005-05-08T11:37:00.000-04:00

I swear to fucking god. If I have to see one more bad movie, I don't know what I'm going to do. Seriously. I can't fucking take this anymore. I need to think long and hard about the next movie I see, because if I see another movie, and it's bad, I don't know if I can ever go back.

There are literally no words for this bullshit. I've seen porno films that were hundreds of times better than this. There was no... I can't... Why? It didn't even try to excuse itself. It just went on and on like your retarded friend who just keeps talking about inappropriate things but you can't be rude to him because he won't understand what you... Ok. I don't know where that metaphor was going. But Jesus. Say you're sorry. If you made a bad movie, that's fine. Just say "Hey, sorry this movie sucked so bad. It won't happen again." But don't sit there and keep going like it's going to turn into a good movie if you just wish hard enough. It was fucking bad. I mean, literally, this movie made this shit look like cinematic gold. And I'm telling you- it was like it didn't even know it was horrible. Ridiculous, hideously implausible things just kept on happening.

And you wanna know the best part? I was so fucking drunk, I shouldn't even be able to remember it! Fuck! The alcohol breakdown for the evening went like this:

530 PM - Babyshower = 2 large glasses of red wine

930 PM - Bennigan's = 2 decent sized martinis

1100 PM - The Alcohol Place at BayWalk = Gigantic 180pf Grain Alcohol beverage

1230 - MuviCo = Movie.

So even through my haze, the gratification of seeing Paris get skewered through the head wasn't enough to save me from the tragedy that is Jaume Serra's career tombstone.

Fuck.

!d

Fuck This Fucking Day...

2005-05-05T20:20:00.000-04:00

So this post is mostly just a test of my email posting ability. One of the beauties of BlogSpot is that I should be able to just email a post to the journal and it will self-update. Wouldn't that be nice if that were actually how it worked? Let's hope.

So I'm pissed off right now, just FYI.

CassandraMarie™- Hasn't emailed me back yet.

Katerina- is a big 'ol drunk and is blowing me off to be
drunk even after she said she wanted to go out tonight. I love her.
But shit like this irritates me. Whatever.

Alexa- is not calling be back. I'm making my surprised
face, you just can't see it through the HTML.

Tony- is complaining about not wanting to go out. He's
going to change his mind.

I cannot sit here tonight. I'll lose my mind if I have to.

And plus, this is a sidebar, but I'm fat. I'm fat and I'm fucking sick of it. I've let myself get incredibly icky and lost all of whatever tone I used to have. So my plan tonight, whether I get ditched or not, is to do about eight hundred million sit ups until I'm not fat anymore. Now doesn't that sound sensible?

But on a serious note- I really really do hate my body right now. All I do is eat. Hungry or not. And with classes over, finally, I have extra time on my hands- presumably to consume whatever my body thinks I can digest- so I need to nip this in the bud.

So I said all that, and I'm still pissed off. Huh.

Someone fix this for me.

I'm a Mouse... Duh...

2005-05-01T20:44:00.000-04:00

Just finsihed watching one of my favorite movies of all time. I think that I may relate a little too well to it, but it only makes me love it all the more. The more I watch it, the more I realize that I truly, truly am Regina George. And I can't tell if that's sad, or amazingly cool. I'm going to go with amazingly cool.

I love that all throughout the movie, she's just wicked and gets away with it. She's cruel and dishonest and beautiful and it really just goes to show that consequences are just imaginary things that people say. Like "feelings" and "hunger" and "love." And I especially love the fact that even after she gets hit by the bus, she doesn't learn a lessson. She just has to wear a spinal halo to the Spring Fling and doesn't make Spring Fling Queen.

I love Mean Girls.

I am a Mean Girl.

"Ohmygosh- I love your skirt. Where did you get it? It's so cute. (Beat) That is the ugliest effing skirt I've ever seen."

!d

Bright Lights, BlogCity...

2005-05-01T14:45:00.000-04:00

So here it is. I spent all morning on it, and I'm still not happy with it. But whatever. Like it says, it's still better than EllJay.

Bitches.

My goal here is to have (forgive whatever irony may occour here) a more mature, less middle school journal. Something that, idealy, could actually be termed a "blog," versus just a place to make fun of people who can't type. I don't know what I'm going to do with my LiveJournal. I'll probably do what I'm doing with MySpace and just dual update everything. So it will be redudant for a bit. But you'll live. And more importantly, so will I.

As you can see, I've back entered a couple of things just to get me motivated. If you've already read them, read them again. If you haven't yet, do it now.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged. It's how I know you read. And it's what gets me to respond more quickly than anything else. So do it.

That's all I can think of for now.

!d

Home is Where the Art is...

2005-05-01T14:05:00.000-04:00

For those of you who came to my show at Salt Creek, thank you times a million. It meant a lot.

For those of you who didn't, never fear, you can see it here! I'm posting the three pieces I had (not my favorite selections) in the show. Nothing stupid exciting, but it's what I do, so you should at least feign interest.

Here we go:

This piece, I actually kinda did like. I dunno. It's on grocery bag paper.

This took me all of 20 minutes to do and it's the one everyeone commented on. Someone even offered to buy it. I don't get it.

My mom hates this picture. Good for her.

-----

So that's that. Like I said, nothing super impressive.

!d

Sunday Funnies...

2005-05-01T12:21:00.000-04:00

On Sunday Afternoon Funny...

I don't know why this exists:

http://www.deadsquirrel.com

Someday I'll have this kind of time on my hands... it's my dream, really:

http://myhighhorse.com/index2.html

Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!!!!!:

http://www.nbc10.com/news/4412453/detail.html

Um... Ok... Sure...

http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/050426/480/mdsr10104261619

Add immediately to your vocabulary:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=vachina

On this one, you have to copy and paste it, adding your name after the equals sign:

http://home.elka.pw.edu.pl/~pgrabow1/kolezka.swf?name=

-----
It hasn't been a very productive morning.

!d

Recap For Those Not Involved

2005-04-30T12:43:00.000-04:00

I'm really anxious.

I don't really know why. I just am. I've actually gotten a couple of things done today at work. Namely insurance paperwork and housing paperwork for SVA, but still. Stuff nonetheless. Now I'm all jittery. It's not a good place for !david. But It's making me type really fast. And inaccurately. Oh my.

I had a fakedate with theBritney last night (don't correct my spelling- you're just wrong). It was fun. We were ridiculously cute together. We didn't do anything really exciting, but had a nice dinner and sparkling conversation and martinis. Then we went to that big triangle building at the end of 2nd ave. That made me sad. But there were a great many scary men in the bathroom doing blow. Evidently, the eighties are back. Good news.

Then we went on the trolley ride of doom. And it cost money. What the eff? When did that happen? Why, I remember when I was a kid, you could ride the trolley all day long for free! Bastards.

Then home.

Then Tony's. I had his car and he was drunk and so we went to the movies (see previous entry). We had a delightful evening of Salem Black Labels, Strawberry Mentos, and 180 Proof Grain Alcohol. On top of my martini and his 92 glasses of gin. Niiice. We're classy.

Then home. Watched some horrible montage of gay short films from NetFlix and passed out. The last I remember was a film about penis size insecurity acted out entirely by ken dolls. More disturbing than I feel I can accurately convey here. But so it is.

Then this morning. I was disgusting. But I still looked cute somehow. I'm a trooper. Now I'm at work. I'm not getting any "work" done and quack quack quack.

-----

ShoutOuts:

*K*- Come back already. I can't handle you being in pisstowne anymore. And tell your brother to add me on MySpace. I want that crazy ass-door picture on my friends list.

JMT- I'm leaving the damn country for a fucking month and a fucking half. Could you clear out one goddamn night to have dinner with me and that girl you live with? Is that so much to fucking ask? I never fucking see you.

A- Your comments always make me smile. Downstairs.

BitBit- Yea for us! I had a nice time. Sorry to hear aboot J/H, but now you’re saved from the horror that is that show.

*cough*Hasselhoff*cough*

You would have been lovely though. I want to go to BG just to see you. If I go I'm going to all of your shows all day.

-----
I'm over this entry. I hope someone posts anonymous comments about my ego again. That will make me laugh until it hurts.

I got a random email on MySpace about my arrogance and it was entirely congratulatory. So I'm balanced again. I'm super.

Everyone should check out my profile and boost my hits. Then I'll be pop-uu-lar!

EDIT:

http://www.myspace.com/_david

Ok. I've annoyed myself now. That's the end.

!d

The Amityville Non-Horror

2005-04-30T10:37:00.000-04:00

Why, oh why, oh why did Amityville Horror even happen? Why did I pay money to go and see it? Why did Mr. Alanis Morissette sign on to this? Did they give him a script? Did he actually read the line, "Whacko family!" and think to himself "My god, that's BRILLIANT!"? Am I being punished for something I did/said about the movies a long time ago with this slew of (there's no other word but) HORRIBLE movies?

Seriously- This should have just been called The Horror. It had nothing to do with either the original movie or the book. This was some whacked-out bullshit. Maybe not even The Horror. Maybe just... The.

I can't even excuse it for Ryan Reynolds’s amazing body (of which there was much gratuitous screen time). Yes, I'd fuck him. But damn. Does he need to talk while we're doing it? Or wear so much fucking eyeliner? Where are his eyelashes?

I'm out of words, and frankly this movie isn't worth my words.

!d