I hope I never end up on Forensic Files.

Once upon a time i met a girl named Kathy. I knew when I met her that we were destined to be in some way, shape, or form. And as it turns out we're identical twins. I know we don't look alike; one of us may or may not be a dashingly handsome black man while the other is an uncomfortably gorgeous white woman, but I'm fairly certain our brains were born of the same ingenious seed. I know I don't have to mention how my body responds negatively/physically to the thought of Kevin James in any state of undress, and I'm sure I don't have to mention how hers does either. I know I don't have to say it but I'm fairly certain we also share the same opinions of Sienna Miller, Raven Symoné, Aaron Carter, and Melanie C.

She posted a blog about her trials and tribulations with variations of life that lend themselves to the areas of health and nutrition, and how it seems that people breathe out stupid everywhere you turn. I'd like to think I'm going through a similar situation, though I know the variables are different. I feel that ultimately it's not about what you're doing, but the level of respect you receive while you're doing it. I feel like the unfortunate variables in our seemingly-different-but-ultimately-similar situations always end up being... stupid people. WONDERTWIN POWERS ACTIVATE! FORM OF: RANT!

So in the last two months or so my diet has changed drastically. My boyfriend Ryan and I decided that we needed to clean up our eating acts. A typical night would involve ordering a pizza, snacking on cookies and/or chips, then eating ice cream and watching DVR. So we threw out all of the processed sugars/sugary foods we owned. We got rid of the saturated fats and other various nasties. We replaced our previous guilty pleasures with organic foods, whole grains, and leafy greens. Since Christmas I've lost about 15lbs. I know that we aren't overweight so please, don't pretend as though I am citing this as some personal triumph. I know we are in no immediate need of radical diet change for health purposes, religious purposes, or any other purpose you can come up with. But that doesn't mean that I should leave well enough alone and be content in the fact that I can be unhealthy and not worry about the consequences right now. Even as I type that it sounds ridiculous, and yet I feel as though I am up against nothing but opposition from people regardless of their standing in my tiny social circle.

And it makes me wonder what the Christ is wrong with people. It seems as though (here comes the cliche that is so obviously cliche but somewhat necessary in a time like this) most people can only see in black and white and my opinion is clearly a shade of gray. One of the cooler grays, though... sometimes when my peoples wear warmer grays we tend to look like extras from Mad Max... or Fame... or anything made before 1998 with black people in it. Anyway, THIS is the respect I'm talking about. I always wonder after I end up defending my actions to someone(s) why they get to share their opinion with me anyway. And also, why am I defending myself? Why is my deciding to take better care of myself a reason for you to praise me so much that I know you thought I was seconds away from changing my name to White Castle Wendy's McDonald's Arby's Jr. or spit out so much disdain that I have no choice but to think you're attacking me out of fear for yourself and the things you are or aren't doing. I would like to be able to doctor myself however I see fit and not worry about the opinions of Random Mc Stupidperson and the Wealth of Bad Ideas Band.

So ultimately I wish people would keep their opinions to themselves unless they are asked for or supportive in the way that doesn't make me want to kill you with the season 1 box set of King of Queens. I think I've watched enough Forensic Files to make sure nobody ever finds your body or hears from me again. Although I'm pretty sure all they need to track you down now is a hunch, a pube, and a nosy neighbor. I may have stolen those three pieces of evidence from an episode of Matlock. And with that I take my leave.

Welcome back me!

So, it's been a while since I've posted anything of substance. I know this. I also know that I being a lot of my posts with "It's been a long time since I've posted anything of substance". And finally I know that 15 or so posts hardly constitutes a fraction of said posts being referred to as "a lot" but this is my blog and I will do as I please with the bloguniverse.

So real life really did happen. Lots of work stress and self discovery. I'm not going to write about my everythings all at once because I don't want this to turn into one of those "real life" blogs; one that gives you insight on the real life activities of today's girl; one that might end up in a yellow bubble on the cover of Self magazine. Instead I will talk about my living situation. Because this is New York and nobody is ever happy or ever lives anywhere; ever.

Our lease may or may not be over come June 1st. The owner of our building didn't rent out any other properties, this was his only apartment building... he sold buildings like ours as individual units in condos. He also died on Saturday and his son took over ownership of our building. Hence my not knowing if our lease might end or not. We are currently residing in an overpriced one bedroom in Little Puerto Rico on the corner of Little Dominican Republic Ave. and Little Mexico St. I have nothing against my Spanish speaking/screaming brethren. We are brothers and sisters in skin tone, therefor we are united. But you would think that for the amount we're paying (too much) we wouldn't have to endure the screams of children/old men/young men/gang members day in and day out. Williamsburg is surely being gentrified, but it may not be happening fast enough for my liking. And while I don't like the idea of misplacing a peoples, I also don't like worrying that walking down the street may or may not mean walking past bags of medical waste, being called a faggot by an old drunk, or getting hollered at by a Hispanic man in a gold Camry with dice dangling in the mirror. I believe he said "yo shorty, let me get at that booty".

Ideally we would love to find a loft. One that is in a nice enough area, close to a grocery store that sells organic foods, has lots of windows/natural light, is close to the JMZ or the L (nothing after Montrose, please), costs less than our apartment we're living in now (or is of equal price with way more space), and a fire escape wouldn't hurt the equation either. But if a loft isn't in the future for us, anything for the price we're paying now that has more space would be welcomed. Our across the hall neighbors are either screaming along with their idiot friends playing Wheel of Fortune Kids, or the girl is crying about feeling used or incompetent or unappreciated or something of that sort. I know that's not nice, but life isn't nice! She needs a new boyfriend and a hobby! She'll come home from work wearing heels and walk around on the hardwood floors with her heels on for HOURS before she thinks to take them off. What a bitch.

Moving closer to the JMZ would be ideal. But we don't want to rule out Greenpoint just yet. Although every time I'm in Greenpoint the Polish people look at me funny and I have a built-in hatred for the G train. I don't think I can explain exactly how I feel about the train in words... so I made a handy little graphic. Here it is:



If you live here you know what I mean. So what do we do? I'm sure no matter where we end up our individuality will shine through. I want to move out of this place and find another apartment that feels more like home. The stairwell here feels like a dentist's office situated on several sets of stairs. our balcony (yes a balcony!! Fancy!) window is drafty... and we just need more space. We're furthering our suburban-gone-hipsterness by ordering some furniture from Jennifer Convertibles, so we need some space to grow. I know the answers to my quandaries probably don't exist in this blog, so I'm going to give this post a rest.

But I'm back! And until I disappear again I'll produce other entry-long posts about problems that are really important to me because ultimately I'm exceedingly selfish and I enjoy keeping record of my thoughts because they are golden and I am amazing and unique.

Find me an apartment.
Please?

Craig T. Nelson

I hate that knowing someone is in a bad mood puts me into immediate detective mode. Modes of that sort lead me to sitting up online at 1:30 when I am well aware of the fact that I need to be awake in less than five hours to make it to work on time. I need that little old lady (Beatrice Straight) from Poltergeist to appear and suck me into the closet. I don't think Carol Anne had all too many worries when she was floating around inside of that TV.

Unless Craig T. Nelson is involved.

Then the deal's off.

birthday

Today is my birthday.
I am 25 years old.
I took a blog hiatus due to the onset of real life.
I'll update soon. Just watch.