insert flippant and/or creative title here.

i am tired.

i am tired because i got home at 2:30 last night, and was called this morning at 9:00 sharp by this crazy girl i work with who is playing two of my friends against the middle in a really fucked up way that really upsets me. and somehow trying to pull me in to the whole situation, offer my approval or condolences or something. but i know when to leave well enough alone. being pulled in on something like this is such a strange and demeaning trick to pull. on one hand its a declaration of "oh, poor me, i have two great guys after me, whatever shall i do? this is so hard." speaking as someone who has given up on ever dating again ever, you'll have to forgive me if i stand over here and don't give a shit. and on the other hand, it's asking me to pick sides. which i won't. i won't pick her side, because she's fucking with my boys, i can't take their side because i have to work with this girl, and it will SUCK if things get fucked up. honestly, though, i'm not being honest. i won't choose sides but really i have. though nobody's ever going to know about it in an official capacity. i side with the boy who i shared a cab back to the hood with last night, because i know how great he is and how much i've wanted in the past to destroy anyone who tries to pull this bullshit on him. because he deserves better.

well, both of us do.

but there's not really much i can do about that right now.

anyway. in the interest of keeping the peace, i don't get to make an official statement.

but.

sometimes i worry. about myself, about the people around me, about what we do and what is done to us. i wonder if things are going to change, or if we are fated to be locked in these spirals forever. if we are condemned to perpetually search and do idiotic things in the meantime. and to let it get to us. are that boy and i destined to fall victim to this kind of stupid, obvious, painful thing forever? how much more entertainment value has our chagrin and pain got for the universe? AREN'T WE ALL OVER THIS YET? DON'T THE RERUNS GET OLD?! we're not that entertaining. really. let us off the hook for a while.

in other irritation.

my father still hasn't called. it's been more than two weeks since we've spoken. it's been twenty-four hours since the funeral. it's been three days since the death. the infamous disappearing act strikes again.

and people WONDER why i'm so completely off my rocker about wanting to be loved, why i'm so fucking SCARED of being lonely. why i go off on these stupid, pathos-laden tirades about dating and my pathetic need to be loved and my even more pathetic conviction that i never will be. wouldn't you, if you spent most of your life wondering if the one man who's supposed to love you unconditionally forever actually gave a damn? wondering why he thinks it's okay to disappear for weeks at a time, even when there's a DEATH IN THE FAMILY? i know my mother's family is not really his family anymore. but it's still my family. and i'm still his family. i sort of feel like he should at least offer his condolences. or at least return one of the twenty fucking emails i've sent in the last few weeks. because i can't call him if i don't know where he is. yeah, i'd say those form the foundation of my abandonment issues, wouldn't you?

oh good. now i'm crying, too. about time, i suppose. time to mourn.

i'll be chipper again soon, my ninjas. promise.

f

words can't describe what my heart is feeling right now. suffice it to say that it hurts. quite a bit, actually. one would think that with all this activity, i'd be feeling more a part of my life, of my world, of my family, when in truth i've never felt further away from anything.

ouch. ouchouchouchouchouch.

i'm so tired of feeling like this.

and the evening had such promise.

RAWK!

riddle me this, emperor. why is it that punk rock always makes me think of california? last time i checked new york was the US center of punk...but i listen to rufio, to yellowcard, to any of those underage skate-punk bands, and suddenly i'm seventeen again, driving under the freeway on my way to my friend's house, bright spring day when it's just starting to get certifiably hot and even though it's evening the sun hurts my eyes. i've got the windows rolled down, cigarette in one hand, sunglasses on, immortality complex firmly in place, hair damp, combat boots unlaced music cranked. nameless bands who i can't recall now but i know the way they felt, the way the sunshine felt on my fingertips that day when i was so safe and so free and so ready to plummet towards my grand adventure. i was underage, i was free, i was going places that have only now started allowing themselves out of the ether enough to take shape in my consciousness, the world was my oyster and i was going to rule it all. and i don't think i'll ever feel that way again.

except for the ruling the world thing. i still think i'm going to do that, in my own special way.

and now, i'm in my grand adventure, and while it's nothing i could ever have expected it to be, and it will never replace the feeling of california light on my skin and the breeze off the 101 in my hair...it's exactly what i need it to be. even when it's hard. even when it hurts. i'm in love with it.

at least i will always have skatepunk music to bring me home when it gets to be too much.

smoke, hot air

read this now. anyone see echoes of what kaiser bloomberg is trying to do here?

grumble grumble grumble.

open your mouths!

how real

do you feel

mrs peel?

how real, indeed.

i have no answer for that.

at the end of the day

i said a while ago that there's a huge difference between being by yourself and being alone. i've been thinking about that today. it's kind of been punched in my face, actually.

i realize that through both several fortuitous accidents of fate and one conscious decision, i am neither.

and i am fortunate. i am so fucking lucky for both.

i am only at the office today because i couldn't bear the thought of being by myself today, puttering in my apartment and thinking too much about my mother and my family and how they are, what's going down in the state of california...so i chose to surround myself with people. it gave me purpose, it gave me something to focus on. i had two small tasks and they were all i was able to do. which is fine. the rest of the time, i stared into space, futzed about with the programmer and my laptop, as we tried to figure out how to purge all the music files off my machine and onto "the system" so i could burn them. i had small, idle conversations with everyone here. it was just right. so there's the "not being by myself" part.

here's the "not being alone" part: just a little shout out of thanks to everyone who's been offering their support right now. really and truly. thank you. it's meant a lot.

yeah.

anyway. having this realization is why i've called my mother twice today already. because i don't know where she stands on the altar of "alone." she taught me everything i know about emotional denial, and i was an apt pupil. i'm quite up on it. but nowhere near the level of what she's got going on. she'll never admit to anything, to needing anybody, to needing us. so i'm just insinuating myself. just so she knows that she's not. alone. because, while no one should ever have to be alone, that goes double at times like these. because no matter how much the lady doth protest, she's not invincible. and neither am i. but at least i know, the way i know my hand is on the end of my arm, i know that i do not have to walk the road solo, either by myself or alone. the best i can do is share the love. literally.

random quote of the day: the status quo has taken you hostage with no list of demands.

thank you, navigators.

the morning after

i slept until about 11 this morning.

needless to say, i was late for work.

but they knew in advance. by 8am at least. i had a panicked phone call from the coworker i'd called last night to inform of the situation. at 8am. making sure i was okay and all.

for the record, i'm fine. i am. worried as hell about my mother, but my sister is en route to cali as we speak to hold down the fort.

i am not.

i am the bad daughter.

but we knew that already.

but back to the 8am phone call. yeah. i was only barely coherent when he called. i don't know what he said. i don't know what i said to him. i was both exhausted and hung over at that time, because like a good child of emotional cripples and alcoholics, i got very, very drunk last night. very much so.

so much for coping maturely.

oh, and just as an update on the infamous spectre i saw last night, just after getting the news...all is well in our little relationship. no drama, no trauma. except for the fact that while on one hand, he's become an older brother of sorts, a little part of me is actually going to be in love with him for hte rest of my life. which makes for an awkward push/pull tattoo on my psyche. but everybody deserves to have that kind of tragedy from time to time. it builds character, right?

another goodbye

sometimes the most important sentiments are conveyed by a single word.

for me, all it took was "please," in that particular timbre, and my cavalry knew it was time to run in and save the day.

my grandfather died today.

so thank you, my biscuit, for hearing how much i needed you in that one word and coming to my rescue. more than i could ever convey. more than i could ever express.

the funeral is friday and i won't be there.

fuck.

droodle

is anyone else familiar with the concept of the turducken? if not, go here. now. believe me, you need to know.

in other news, i think that my brain has officially left the building. or perhaps it never came in with me to begin with. one never really knows with my brain.

anyway. i'm partaking in an activity this evening against which i have been counseled strongly by a raft of my nearest and dearest. and yet, i run to the fire willingly. tonight, i'm going to meet up with he, the most infamous of ghosts, the one who derailed me for much longer than any boy deserves to, no matter what he does to me. or fails to do, as the case may be. wang thinks it's a terrible idea, that it's going to be like punishment. biscuit has warned me to behave myself. to be honest, i'm not entirely certain what everyone is so worried about. i mean, yes. this boy fucked my shit up. but i'm a different person now. i've spoken to him for fifteen minutes in the last nine months. and i'm okay with that. i don't even think about him. most of the time.

honestly, i don't know what i'm looking for tonight. consciously, i don't think i'm looking for anything except a chance to catch up on gossip. and a navigators' cd. but who knows if my subconscious is working against me. sometimes i question my own motives. i don't know. i'm certain it will be trauma free, frankly. but you'll hear all about it anyway.

bored beyond belief

i've spent the last few hours trying really hard not to dash my brains out against my desk out of sheer boredom. i have but one project, and that i can't even really accomplish because i'm minus several vital documents that have not yet been supplied. so i'm checking my email compulsively and watching the clock and wondering when the hell i can get out of here so i can go take my guitar up to 30th street to either get the pickup fixed or get one for my good guitar and then go to biscuit's for buffy.

fucking hell. i've got to get out of here.

and now, off to the post office for a little lighthearted entertainment.

year of the

last year was the year of infinite illness.

this year is shaping up to be the year of infinite irritating and niggling minor injuries.

grumble.

an amusing pudding

What Type Of Retro Gal Are You?
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hence the garters, i suppose.

ALSO, it has come to my attention that maybe, just maybe, some of you d-landers would want to put in an appearance at my shows, and i've just been terribly crap about giving you the nitty gritty. So, here it is, the lowdown on the next show: tuesday, november 26, 9pm at the orange bear (47 murray st., between w. broadway and church).

mark your calendars!

who forgot to fluff the phoenix?!

I am wearing garters today. we have big scary mucky muck in the office today, and the garter/stocking combination is the closest thing Iíve got to battle armor thatís in the least appropriate for a visit from the corporate higher ups. now, before you all get up in arms about me being depraved and all that, let me explain: itís just a nice little reminder that I have power. perhaps not over him, but power in general. in the world somewhere. I have the power that nature imbues all females with, I have the power of my intelligence, I have the power of my intuition and compassion. and I tend to forget this all when this man is in town. generally, all I want to do is cower when heís around.

and anyone whoís ever met me, EVER, knows I donít cower easily.

I am, however, still puzzling over why Iíve chosen to bestow the honor of ìmy personal nightmareî upon this man. thereís no particular reason. just the knowledge that, if I piss him off, I am absolutely fucked professionally. and my turn to go into the conference room and justify my existence is coming up. fear. oh, the fear.

I just need to get into character. Iíll be fine. really. hopefully. unfortunately, Iím going in after sally sue, and itís never a good idea for me to follow a pathological overachiever. I just canít compete. ah well.

in other newsÖ

you didnít think Iíd let you off without a rundown of Saturdayís show, did you? well, suffice it to say that, while it was nowhere near my shining glory as a performer, it was kind of okay. the main problem was that the pickup in my guitar decided to punk out that night, so I had to rock a double-mic scenario. which meant there was a big olí microphone where my strumming hand usually goes (hm! that sounded a bit more sexual than Iíd anticipated!)ÖI kept whacking it while I was playing. now, Iím not really used to that sort of thing. and so, the shock of it all caused me to break the ultimate cardinal rule of performing: I freaked out. just a little bit. I think I kept it under wraps fairly well, kept my cool and all, but it took three or four songs before I got comfortable up there. and that made it hard. because when Iím uncomfortable, I start overthinking and then I botch things up. fortunately, I did manage to get back in the saddle by about fifteen minutes into the set, and it was back into ìzone out and let your fingers do the walkingî mode. and that was much better.

but, all told, it was a good time. the audience was very receptive and a lot of funÖthough Iím actually a bit pissed off with two of my friends, who were sitting at a table IN THE FRONT and cackling really loudly throughout. now, Iím no stranger to the bar music scene. I know people are going to talk. I know people are going to cackle. but if youíre going to be blatantly disrespectful of the music, GET YOUR ASS TO THE BACK OF THE BAR SO YOU DONíT PISS THE SONGBIRD OFF! go ahead, have a natter. I donít care. thatís par for the course. but show a little fucking respect, eh?

and in further other newsÖ guess whatís finished? thatís right! the remix has landed! I get to hear it this evening. Iím absolutely agog with excitement. seriously.

in other further other news here comes that old enmity again. Iím sitting here, listening to the meeting with the open door, in which sally sue is basically saying that my work, the web stuff that we do, is our fluff offering. people donít actually look to what I do for real information. they look to her stuff for that. that, essentially, what I do is inconsequential.

and we were doing so well. but, I think I just heard the sound of a can of whoop-ass being opened.

showtime!

almost showtime, mes petites.

wish me luck.

tonight's playlist:

up on you

three phone calls

the right mistake

body/heart

la di da

reclamation

sleepwalking

out of my head

in vein

the infamous cover (baby one more time)

mark on my finger

judd nelson

**

sound good?

shirley you jest

biscuit, i thought you'd appreciate this.
and it loads slowly--be patient!

What sexy girl are you
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more on avril

...but on the subject of avril lavigne...there was a featurette on her in the new york times magazine last week, wherein it was brought up that she does, in fact, have a bit of a brouhaha behind her. the point of contention is that a lot of people maintain that she, formerly a good, churchgoing canadian girl, had been manufactured and styled in to her current skatepunk style.

i'm in two minds about this. on one hand, i say "yep, this is probably true. though everyone wants to fuck the minister's daughter, that is a slightly disturbing way to market her emerging sexuality. i mean, she's a child. and in the wake of the whole pedophile priest scandal, that's just not going to fly the way it did when britney busted onto the scene. we need to make her look like she could not just defend herself, but kick out asses. yeah!" on the other hand, though, i say: "she's 17! if she's not changing every five seconds, there's something seriously wrong with her. it's law: the church-going good girl butterfly will most likely turn into a street moth sometime during her adolescence. it's a rite of passage. and it's important."

anyway.

the thing i found most interesting about the article is that, in response to the aforementioned accusations, she apparently called over to her band members to verify her "realness," and one of them, the guitarist, i think, immediately offered up: "no, she's for real. if she weren't, we wouldn't be working with her." to which i am in only one mind: fuck that. you're a teenage musician living the rock and roll dream. you'd do it for anyone who offered to help you make a career out of it, whether they were kelly clarkson or courtney love. speaking as a musician, i have to say that, if you love the music, you've got a high chance of throwing your sense of ethics out the window if someone offers you a chance to do it for a living. really. real musicians are whores in that aspect. i'm certainly no exception.

so, to hell with your noble idealism and belief that you are an ARTISTE. if anyone offers you a chance to do what you love for a living, you're not going to care too much if it's wearing borrowed spandex. you stick out the ethically questionable bits long enough, put in your time, you'll get to live out your nobility eventually. so, mister eighteen year old ethically sound guitarist man, please excuse me if i don't believe you any further than i can throw you. you'd play guitar for mariah carey if it meant you'd never have to get a desk job. don't try to tell us you wouldn't. at least, if you want me to keep believing that you actually love the music.

anyway, would it really suck all that much to be on the road with avril lavigne even if she is manufactured? for pete's sake. false or true, she's still pretty cute.

more guilt

also on the list of strange pleasures.

avril lavigne.

harry potter.

books by zilpha keatley snyder.

cosmo.

the spice girls (the ginger spice years).

vinegar on rice.

x-men: evolution

god, i'm losing all my street cred here, aren't i?

and just think, that's just a taste...

vanilla what?

so, i'm developing what has got to be an unhealthy obsession with vanilla coke. i know! it's wrong, and horrible, and an effrontery to man, nature and all that is good in the world. i don't even like it--it's strange and evil tasting, like a bad mood.

but oh oh oh how difficult i find it to resist when i see it sitting there on the shelf.

chalk up another addiction to the list of JUST PLAIN WRONG.

alas!

by vs. by

being by yourself is nothing like being alone.

people forget that sometimes.

heeeeeeat

i have heat! repeat: HEAT!

hallelujah.

hit and run

oh, and i was right about my downstairs neighbor being dead. ironically he was hit by a car. i guess he was the victim of the hit and run that i've been seeing signs for all over the hood. hm. (oh, and the irony lies in the fact that he was so very close to dying from natural causes--he had one hand, bad kidneys and dates from sometime in the devonian era. see, mrs. tingle? i'm using it correctly).

concen

my concentration is totally bloody shot (this is becoming a familiar refrain, eh monkeys?). i'm supposed to be writing about zurich, switzerland, and i can't even string together a coherent sentence, much less a paragraph, much less a thirty-page guide.

maybe i will go to capoeira today. that might help me force my thoughts into order.

and, we're talking about thanksgiving. i'm being questioned as to why it is that i never go home for the holiday anymore.

i hate having to defend that decision. i really do.

no heat.

my apartment has no heat.

let me repeat that. it is november, pushing towards december, and MY APARTMENT HAS NO HEAT.

i'm thinking of locking this diary.

PSA 2

for your reference: when listening to someone discussing an episode of buffy the vampire slayer, resist the temptation to say "i don't know how anyone could watch that show."

resist. really.

this has been another public service announcement, brought to you by the same cubicle that presented such hits as "what not to say when someone is eating a powerbar."

happy fucking holidays

suddenly, i'm not so sure i'll be home for christmas. the sad fact of the matter is that i don't want to be home for christmas. either home. on one side, we have my mother and dying grandfather, who may well be dead by then, nobody knows. it will be depressing, it will be oppressive, there will be the terrifying family that i mentioned in my thanksgiving rant. my mother will be at the end of her tether, my grandparents will be doing their best but really just too old and too sick to do the normal family thing, my uncle will be sitting around spouting dogma while his sociopathic 13 year old daughter stares dolefully at me and my mother, refusing to speak to us. meanwhile, i and perhaps my sister (if she's able to make it) will be attempting to keep the peace in some way, whether that be driving people around or cooking dinner or whatever.

and in the other corner, we have a gaggle of texans. all of whom i love, but don't know so well, and there would be small children involved. and it would be texas. though there would be sweet potato casserole. but it would be texas.

so i don't know. going home just isn't sounding so good right now. i'm kind of hoping that i can just stay here and marinate, crash a refugee celebration or something. the city will be so quiet. perhaps i'll even have the apartment to myself for a while. an apartment with no heat, but to myself nonetheless.

yeah.

i kind of hate the holiday season. and i kind of love it, too.

once again, i need an answer. but, unlike the last one i sought, only i can provide it. and i can't decide if that's going to make it more or less frustrating.

seek not, little grasshopper, lest you find the truth behind your suspicions.

respectable pate, gotta motor.

i think my downstairs neighbor may be dead. i'm not sure about this, but there is a large and alarming pile of detritus outside my apartment, consisting of large numbers of furniture and general apartment crap. i don't really know where else it would come from. and it has been awfully quiet down there since the episode with the ambulance.

hm.

i wonder who i'd ask to find out.

anyway. in other news, i got some of those answer things i'd been so seeking. and while not entirely disappointing (particularly since i still got a goodnight kiss), not entirely what i was hoping for, either. well, we'll see. i suppose that we should just enjoy whatever this is--and each other--while we've got it. at least it was established that we do, in fact, enjoy hanging out together, and getting our smooch on with each other. and the rest of the story wasn't entirely surprising. i guess it's okay for now. at least that's the concrete decision. and there's something reassuring about knowing that, while someone doesn't really want to date you, it's more about them being a train wreck than lack of attraction to you. or at least being told that with a straight face.

yeah. there's that old cynicism again.

time to channel my inner willow--i'm a fucking amazon. time to channel my inner buffy--maybe i'll neve be loved because i'll never find one truly worth it.

though i long for the day when there's someone out there to give me more.

in other other news...my brain is getting away with me. i've been pondering things that really shouldn't be pondered. things that genuinely fall outside my moral codes. i don't like it, i don't trust it, and i don't understand it.

where do you want to go today?

one more thing

another thing i'm in the mood for:...if i have to spell it out, you haven't been paying attention.

grumble.

i need to leave this office RIGHT NOW. else my brain my explode and spatter all over the ceiling.

i'm a real mover

you know, sometimes people aren't even aware that they're perpetuating the very stereotypes that they to vehemently state they don't want to be pigeonholed into.

i'm not going any further than that with that particular train of thought, because i know that i will get my ass kicked. and, having gone to kickboxing today, i've already gotten my ass-whoopin' out of my system, so i don't think i'm really in the mood to defend myself.

what am i in the mood for...that is certainly an excellent question. my good umbrella, that's one. but i think that's been cast out into the random pile of detritus upon the landing, never to be seen again. i'm in the mood for a really sweet hot chocolate, like the boys at pret know i like it. i'm in the mood for some gossip. i'm in the mood for a big, cozy sweater. vegetable dumplings. a nice glass of wine. some answers. some sunshine. a paycheck. a nap. thanksgiving.

oh, i am looking forward to thanksgiving.

i've spent the last five thanksgivings partaking in the refugee celebrations, and now that i've done that, i can't imagine ever going back. the thought of spending it with the family makes me blanch. from what i remember, and what other big gathering/feasting holidays in which we partake i can cite, i am never in the spirit of thanksgiving when i'm home. i'm hoping that my mother doesn't lose her mind, or that i'm not left to watch over the younger children, that i won't be asked to justify my existence by my super-republican uncle, any of that. i'm hoping that the day ends without anyone having a major breakdown and with me escaping at my earliest convenience to go have the cigarette i've been so desperately craving the entire day.

having painted that picture, is it any wonder that i prefer the refugee thanksgiving, where i'm with my friends, my tribe, eating, drinking, smoking, cursing, flirting...being myself with wild abandon, acutely aware of how thankful i am to have these people in my life, to be here right now, to have made it this far.

that's what it's all about, isn't it? you celebrate life with your family. only i prefer to keep away from the biological one at this time of year.

PSA today

quickly, lieblings, a lesson in tact: when encountering someone who's eating a powerbar (or functional equivalent), don't say: "you know, i just read a study that said that there's really no difference between one of those and a chocolate bar."

just don't. just resist the temptation. please.

this has been a public service announcement.

what's new, pussycat?

oooh...brand, spankin' new design. you likee, little monkeys?

that's it.

for those of you playing along at home, i have officially lost all enthusiasm for doing any more work today. despite the fact that the whipping from the newsletter backlash was relatively light today, i am over it entirely. so, i think i'm going to surreptitiously surf, set a bad example for the new girl and just enjoy the view from the right hand side of the cubicle. if only i could stop throwing garbage in my purse because it's sitting where i expect the trash can to be.

yeah, mondays and i don't get on so well. can you tell?

thoughts for a monday.

the world looks different from the other side of the cubicle. it really does.

i will now be able to spot miz bosslady as she walks this way, and will be able to hide any incriminating windows before she can see the contents of the monitor.

this is a good thing.

i will now no longer be the first line of defense for all menu shillers, mailmen, delivery people, irritating salesmen and the like. it is no longer my responsibility to sign for every damn package that comes into this godforsaken place.

what else will today bring? possibly a need for the new peter gabriel album, which is too bad, since i have no money until friday.

in other news, i ran into someone on the subway the other day with that i lived with sophomore year. one of the few people who doesn't make me want to run away screaming when i spot her. it was good to see her. though i was very much reminded of how very much more hardcore than i she is. in a good way. and people like that are always disconcerting, because you know it's only a matter of time before they well and truly take over the world.

a few parting shots:

1. harry potter friday. i'm all about it.

2. i had forgotten how much breaking in new combat boots really sucks.

3. i wonder how silent my phone will be tonight. probably more so than i would hope. but no more so than i expect. i give this lark maybe another two weeks before i give it up. and, god willing, stick to my fucking moratorium.

4. did you know that pringles are tested for aerodynamism? madness.

googlematic

what i've been googled for this weekend:

shivery

evil chicks

syphillis.

mad dogs and englishmen

so, i'd never classify myself as a gym bunny. ever. frankly, i don't really like the whole gym business very much (though i do love my kickboxing)...but after spending a week in the south (not the southwest), where there the freeway is king so nobody walks, where the fifth major food group is fried, where i drank an amount that impressed even the team from chicago (they like their beer there, in our windy city office), i cam back to new york feeling, well, absolutely foul. so, i was uncharacteristically thrilled to be going and getting my sweat on. and that i did. and it was good.

anyway.

i'm in a strangely good mood today. not "strangely good" as in it's strange that i'm in a good mood, but "strangely good" as in i'm in a good mood in a strange way. i don't know how else to explain it. hence the strangeness. yeah. i suspect it's a manifestation of seasonal affective disorder--it's gorgeous outside, and it's tough to get me down when that happens. or maybe just things are generally okay.

i actually had an epiphany this morning. i was hyperanalyzing my dating track record, wondering why i fuck up everything with the ones i'm after and yet manage to snare the married ones, the ones i'm not trying to. and this is going to seem about as obvious as it can get, but it's because when i'm hanging out with the married guys, i'm just being myself. they're off limits, so i can be as ridiculous as i want to be. i don't give a fuck. but with the boys i'm pursuing, some weird catch goes up in my head and i unconsciously edit myself, try to present only certain pieces of the puzzle. i tone myself down so as not to frighten them away.

and today i realized that maybe, just maybe, i should be working harder to scare them. because, frankly, i think that a shivery on eleven is a hell of a lot more fun than a shivery in edit mode.

yeah. this is going to take some serious revising. ah well. who cares. it's friday. it's beautiful. i'm leaving work early to go drinking with the coworkers. i have a party to go to tonight. and a party tomorrow. another issue of the monthly newsletter is away and out of my hands. life is sweet. who cares about coherence on a day like this?

there's a reason they call it "ex," buddy.

why is this the week of ex boyfriends? why do they persecute?

why do they not understand that there's a reason we're not calling?

roos, you feel my pain, right?

prioritize, monkey.

i've discovered new depths of rudeness to the new york cab driver.

i've received philosophy that i can only hope to one day fully incorporate into my life.

i've been shattered by images of heartbreaking beauty and dreams for the future.

i've done my best to act as a pillar and fixative while separated by a phone and a river.

and through it all, i am transfixed by the simple fact that there is still no word from the front line.

and that transfixion upsets me more than the quiet itself.

sometimes i wonder

yeah, doc.

have i mentioned that i hate my doctor? yeah, that feeling was only intensified after being made to wait in his fucking foyer for more than an hour whilst listening to spanish TV at obscenely high decibels, all for a five minute consultation that consisted of:

him have you lost any weight?

me no.

him have you quit smoking?

me no.

him have you been to an ob/gyn?

me no.

him have you been having sex?

me no.

him have you been having any chest pains?

me no.

him have you had a blood test recently?

me no.

that was it. i got my prescription and left. and i know that typed out, it doesn't quite convey the horror that was the appointment. honestly. that man makes me feel lower than a bug and i feel that's somehow not right. you know?

anyhoo. off for lord of the rings and other goodness.

things that...

things that rock my face: friends/boots/pete yorn/red wine/my bed/the discovery that i make sighing noises when i'm waking up (even though this fact was not discovered by another person, which would have made it even better)/having random people overseas request copies of my cd/scarves/the day i finish an issue of the online newsletter, before i send it out/sushi/getting out of work early/argyle socks/anything tactilely gratifying/my belly (never thought i'd say that)/my new cowgirl boots/terrifyingly hot showers/two chicks and a casio/velvety things/the smell of cigarettes and beer on a boy

things that can bite me sideways:

my mother's nickname for me/uncertainty/eastern standard time/my doctor/cigarette tax/my doctor/black gumdrops or liquorice/justin fucking timberlake/cigar smoke/my doctor.

i have a doctor's appointment today. can you tell? i'm twitching in agony. i've got to find myself someone new.

ready for some action are you, danger boy? ready if i'm ready for you, danger boy...

i

am

bored.

after a couple weeks of total whirlwind manic action from hell, everything has suddenly ground to a shrieking standstill.

and, you see, this is bad, because when i have time on my hands, i do dangerous things like dwell. obsess, if you will. certainly question my own actions. question the actions of others, particularly the mysterious ones that don't come equipped with definite coordinates or contact points.

i hate it that i have no choice but to play hard to get.

anyway.

at least it was anarchy thursday here in the office. well, thursday morning, anyway. i sat down with the new girl and we had a righteous bitchfest about--what else?--boys. seems she's been righteously bitched up by someone very recently. so, i shared a couple of my stories, and we got it all up to fever pitch. the boys were chiming in and everything. young mister longacre took terrible glee in describing my continuous failure to stick to my "no more boys" resolution. i wiped that smile off his face, however, upon detailing the situation with the other person's roommate of yore. that actually shut everyone up for a minute, which is impressive for this office. now mister longacre understands the bitter and the great trepidation.

actually, he said something quite interesting...he commented on the fact that whenever he or his friends approach a woman at a bar in NYC, her first response is always one of total exasperation and distrust--kind of like "okay, what are you about? how long is it going to take you to fuck me over, and are you going to be enough fun in the meantime to make the agony worthwhile?" he was perplexed. he didn't understand why we've grown so jaded in this place. but, after a little time spent listening to me and newgirl trade war stories, i think he understands. we're wary because we get hurt so frequently, and so badly, and because as the females of the species, tend to take it a bit harder than most men. it's too bad that it has to be that way. is that how it is everywhere? am i ever going to feel like i can offer up my heart again? because right now, i'm terrified to show it to the world, to let it loose on the streets of this city. i'm guarding it like the most precious and fragile treasure in the world. because that's what it is to me. and, while the bandages are almost off, any more abuse could rip the stitches.

and that's why i'm so twitchy about the ghost. he has so much potential, he could be trustworthy. but, i don't want to give him anything if he's just going to stomp on it. because i'd rather keep it to myself than have to glue it back together again. and, dammit, i want to know NOW if i should be polishing it for presentation or locking it in a dark, climate-controlled room. i want a fucking answer, and none are forthcoming.

or maybe they are, maybe the answer has been had in silence and i'm too fucking stubborn and/or naively optimistic to read the signs.

or maybe i'm overreacting.

i just want to know. this is just like algebra class...i didn't generally care how i did on a test, i just wanted to know the score.

see? dwelling. obsessing. these are not good pursuits for little ninjas.

what?

without the bureau of THEY, there would be no slowdancing.

back to reality

i've been thinking quite a bit today, which is really a feat when you consider how hard i tried to pickle myself alive last week. topics of mental discussion have included: conversational evolution; departure; carmen miranda.

topic 1: conversational evolution. do you ever stop yourself in the middle of a long conversation and then try to draw yourself a road map for it? sometimes it's really quite enlightening. every time i do that, i gather another little fact about myself. i will be quizzed at the end, i'm sure.

topic 2: departure. as my parents drove me to DFW to catch my flight home, i found it absolutely impossible to get a word in edgewise relative to my stepmother's running commentary on texas history, politics, culture...i was actually mildly irritated by the monologue at the time--i was tired, and i wasn't looking forward to the flight all that much. but, now that i've had a decent night's sleep, i've come to this conclusion: upon noting that stepmom pulls this kind of thing every time she and dad take one of us to the airport, i have been wondering what exactly lies behind this. my running theory is that she's not terribly keen on the whole goodbye thing. rather than sit around and stew quietly about being unhappy that someone's leaving, she fills up the conversational void with incessant streams of interesting but irrelevant information. something to ponder.

of course, i could be wrong.

topic 3: carmen miranda. c'mon, here. 'nuff said. honestly.

on the agenda for this afternoon:

waiting for a phone call, editing a document on sao paolo, listening to a cd i am not yet ready to admit i own, wonder how the new girl is doing and what the world is going to look like from the other side of the cubicle.

stay tuned for further transmissions from the satellite heart.

home again, home again

home is where the heart is, where the shoe collection is, where the embarrassing photographs are, and where i am now.

oh, and i officially rescind any statements made pertaining to texas being part of the southwest. i have been informed that i am in error of all that is right and good in the world when i make that mistake.

the cowgirl gets her own scandal.

phase two of the great texas excursion has come to pass: i have now gotten myself out of houston and into dallas--something like a two-hundred mile difference, but as far as i'm concerned, two hundred miles is still enough to put between myself and that city of asphalt and onramps.

now, before i move on to chroncling my time here in the home of the cowboys, i've got to give you your final tidbit of scandal and intrigue (though it's really not terribly interesting): on the last night, after the final seminar, once all our brains were utterly caned and we were doing our level best to revive them with copious quantities of alcohol, i had a pass made at me. by a married coworker. who has a fourteen year old daughter and a seven year old son. whom you may remember, because he came to nyc a few months ago and i think i wrote about that. yeah. apparently he's been nursing a bit of a crush on me for a while now. and alas and alack for him, i had to shoot him down. naturally. but i'm fairly certain that enough glimpses of that one planting a big ol' kiss on me were had by other people that i'm going to have to explain it eventually.

ah, intrigue. that's two married men now i seem to have pulled into my web. the question is, why do i have such trouble affecting that kind of mojo on the single ones (or, at least the single ones who are worthy of my time)? because god knows, i'm never going to partake in the fruit from that particular tree. i may be a harlot in many respects, but really. i respect the institution.

anyway. time for breakfast and coffee with the family, and possibly a midmorning nap.

i love vacation. almost as much as i love scandal.

yeeeeeeeehah! greetings from the lone star state

you know, for years and years and years, i've heard tell that professional convention/conferences are just big piles of madness waiting to ignite. and i thought that i understood what people meant when they told me that.

um...no.

as i sit here in the "business center" of the sheraton brook hollow (i use the term loosely, as the computer here is so ancient that it can't quite handle word processing. not really of much use for a businessperson. or me, who crashed it three times yesterday by typing), nursing weak coffee and hung over for hte third consecutive day, i am taking stock of the situation. and i repeat:

um...no.

the level of debauchery i'm seeing here is nothing short of stunning. strangely, i'm kind of enjoying it. i now have tangible proof that, while i continue to hold the crown for Most Unique Player in my company, i've got some stiff competition. it's pretty grand. some highlights:

1. halloween night, i get dragged out by some of our operatives from the office in dallas (ironically, by this guy whose first contact with me was calling me up and basically telling me i was an idiot. we've since tendered our apologies) to this weird little bar in a mall. let me repeat that. a BAR in a MALL. in a STRIP MALL. ugh. anyway, while there, i got chatted up by this italian guy (italian from italy, not italian from the bronx) who was trying really hard to convince me that he was a doctor, despite the fact that he looked about twelve...i suppose he took the end of doogie howser, MD a little harder than we would have anticipated. ah well. and i realized...that's not really a highlight, though he really was rocking the mid-adolescent groove.

2. the aformentioned operative from the dallas office has been witnessed several times vigorously snogging one of the ladies from calgary. which wouldn't be noteworthy except that he got MARRIED LAST WEEK. i love scandal.

3. last night, i got to be mister (miss) entertainment. for the grand fiesta, i somehow got to be in charge of planning the games, getting the face painting going, and, yes, singing. don't know how they actually talked me into it, but yes. the upside of all that, though, is that executive-who-terrifies-me is also a guitar player, whom we've been trying to get to perform for us since...well, the beginning of time, apparently. and after i prostrated myself upon the altar of total public humiliation, he decided to follow suit. it was kind of...neat. and then there was the sing along. yeah. for all my complaints about my company, you've not lived until you've seen a passel of my coworkers drunk, covered in face paint and trying to remember the words to hey jude. anyway. the moral of the story is that for someone who'd not yet started drinking when all this mayhem was going on, i got very well acquainted with my inner smarmy game show host.

3a. i heard a great story from one of the guys in the houston office about the time he got arrested...apparently, it involved two oiled midgets and a spatula. he had pictures.

4. i got to make a comment to the assembled congregation about fondling my meat. during my presentation. (my meat being a large squeaky pork chop that we were using as a prop).

5....there is no 5 right now. my brain is unfocused, i have to report for what is going to be the world's most boring eight hours of seminar ever (our new division is going to sit us down in a room and try to explain what it is they do. none of us are happy about this prospect. i mean, we're already seeing powerpoint slides in our sleep) in about fifteen minutes, and before that happens i really need to find more coffee. and lots of it.

so, peaches, greetings from the great american southwest, this is your loyal correspondent reporting from the north loop. we'll check in with you again as soon as we can. signing off.