blipster

i and love and you.

2010-05-15T20:38:00.007-04:00

So I haven't posted in here in almost a year. The thought crossed my mind the delete this, but I know how I am. I would regret the hell out of that decision and then want to write about how much of a mistake it was to delete my blog but have nowhere to write it, and the internal conflict would drive me insane. So instead of writing something long and wistful, lamenting my time away… I’m going to pretend like it never happened and get with the getting on.

In the last almost year lots of things have gone on. People were sick, people are sick. I’ve made some bonds with some amazing people that I can personally guarantee will never sever. I’m beginning to think I’ve inherited some doormatic (I invented that word) qualities from my mother. I tend to give everyone and everything and every situation I come across the benefit of the doubt time and time again. I think it makes me look like someone who doesn’t need emotional tending because I’m so involved in making sure whoever I’m involving myself gets to feel their feelings that my feelings get more than overlooked. How’s that for a run-on sentence? I will tend to other people and other things until my fingers are worn down to bloody nubs, all the while thinking I’m feeling this thing or that thing but keeping it to someone who isn’t even myself. What do I mean? I’ll explain. It’s like I don’t even let my feelings get bottled up because I don’t keep them anywhere near the empty bottles. It’s more like I’m thinking them into one of those astronaut training rooms, where there’s no gravity and things will bounce around for eternity if you don’t stop them. So instead of having that bottle that’s ever-filling for me to reference, I have this spastic chamber that bounces emotions off of me left and right, making it difficult for me to express what I’m feeling when I’m feeling it. I know, it’s epic. And it’s probably the most important thing you’ll ever read in the history (and future) of ever… so you may want to bookmark this entry now.

I celebrated my four year anniversary with Ryan not too long ago. That’s a long time for people our age, methinks. I don’t want to make some lame joke about how its 100yrs in gay years, so let’s let that mentioning of said joke be all of the exposure that it needs. I can’t imagine a functional relationship without ups and downs in it. When some people make claims that they are happy all of the time with their significant other I kind of want to coat their genitals in sugar and throw them into a room filled with fire ants, cockroaches, and fire ants with cockroaches strapped to their backs. While I’d never say something is the spice of life, it certainly does make for a life filled with stimulation and somethings. I don’t think I could ask for anything more than a boyfriend who fills my life with stimulation and somethings. In four years when we celebrate out 8yr (200th) anniversary, I want to reference this post and do something that involves fire ants.

I think the key to me making my blog (and maybe my life?) work and be something I update often is to not put so much pressure on myself the way I used to. I’d actually think when I was at work, or on the train, or standing around being amazing, that I had to think of something to write. I had to think of something to talk about. When really, I intend to use this as a place for me to vocalize with my fingertips what I can’t vocalize with my tongue. So maybe instead of beating myself up with imaginary baseball bats and tasers (side note: when did tasers become the new handgun/birth control/handshake? Was I out of the room when the entire planet decided tasers should be in vogue?) I’ll write about why I don’t have anything to say or why I don’t feel like updating. I can imagine if anybody is reading this right now they’re thinking “oh awesome, that sounds like a post I’d like to read. You’re so dumb I want to kick you until you’re dead”. Know that I would not appreciate that.

I really need to figure out how to get motivated and stay motivated when it comes to working out and exercise. I think I have an actual fear of cardio. I don’t like it when my body parts bounce up and down in rapid succession. It makes me feel like I’m going to jiggle a joint loose and my leg is going to pop off. It would be on the news and then I would be the laughing stock of all the people in all the land. I have a weight bench and I have a barbell and two dumbbells and maybe 150lbs worth of weights. The weight bench is currently propped up against the wall, filling in white space on said wall so I don’t have to fill that white space with artwork, and the weights are all stacked in an off-kilter column that LOOKS like artwork. Someone needs to show me how to re-prioritize and stick with it. There are very few things I do that I really want to do that I stick with. I remember when I crocheted myself a scarf two winters ago and I was convinced I was going to crochet an apartment-shaped cozy to cover my house in. What I actually ended up with was more along the lines of 1 and 1/8 scarves. I think the ONLY thing you can do with 1/8 of a scarf is to make a project out of unraveling it. I just have this idea in my head of reaching this idea of “better” with my body. I’m not crazily obsessed with some out of reach idea of perfection, and I’m not a half step away from being on "TRUE LIFE: My Biceps’ Biceps Have Triceps", but I would like to make my shoulders a bit more broad. Not only will I be unable to fit through doors, but it will also make my waist look TINY… so when I wear a one piece at the beach this summer everyone will be jealous of how svelte I look around the middle.

I can’t express how much it hurts to have your best friends basically turn their backs on you. And that is all I will say about that.

If I don’t stop here I’ll run out of things to say for the rest of the week. Plus my videogames won’t play themselves! I’d very much like this reintroduction to be a solid new beginning, so let this be the first step in a long line of next steps. I’m counting on me to pull through on this.

2009-05-31T02:13:00.001-04:00

I haven’t updated my blog in months.

I say that here often, don't ?

I think about updating it all of the time, but I wanted to wait until things really felt right.

I needed to take a real hiatus from updating because felt like all I was saying, all I was writing, was really about trying to figure out how to make my life read the way I wanted it to read. And when I read my posts over and over again I felt like cataloging my indecision only made it worse. I was constantly reminded of things I told myself I should be doing without ever making any steps toward doing them. It’s very hard to dig yourself out of your current state of thought when you’ve surrounded yourself with your demons from the past.

And so I’m traveling onward. I left my old job and found a new home as the creative third of a wonderful visual team at TopShop/TopMan. While I loved my old job (because I knew it so well, and the people of course) I am finally putting my creative/merchandising expertise to work on merchandise, mannequins, windows, and displays that are focused way more on creativity, impact, and the fashion of it all. My ultimate goal is to be doing something very, very creative but also very rooted in the business aspect of Menswear and Men’s fashions. I’m trying to channel my artistic ability into real effective business and retail decisions and so far it’s working well. It was hard at first, but I’m really getting the hang of it. In addition it’s much easier to work with merchandise you actually love. In the month and a half I’ve been there I’ve used my discount 6 or 7 times already, occasionally buying multiple items per transaction. Throughout my three years at Esprit I used my discount three times. I stuck with it because I knew I was good at my job and I thought that was what was most important. But I’m learning that working with things I like makes my job that much more fun. Breaking it down to discounts and purchases makes it seem a little silly, but it’s all factored in when retail is what you’re working with.

Over the last three years my salary has literally doubled. That is something I’m particularly proud of. While I won’t break it down to dollars and cents, increasing the amount of money you take home twofold in any situation is a good thing. And now that I’m making as much as I am, I can’t figure out how I made it I this city three years ago. Or even the two years before that. The more I make the more I need, that’s how it always goes; but it’s nice to know I won’t have to worry as much about the amount of money I have at my disposal. And it’s nice to be able to do things for Ryan I wasn’t able to do before.

We stayed at a wonderful hotel in Montauk for our third anniversary a few weeks ago. While the interiors could have used some updating, the amount of space our suite had was amazing. Our ultimate dream of having two bathrooms was finally realized. That’s our next step. Finding an apartment where we can have our own bathrooms. It was amazing walking out to the shore and realizing we were on the tip of the East Coast. If we jumped into the water and swam as far as we could we’d die before we reached Europe, obviously, but knowing we’d be London-bound is a pretty amazing thought.

I think I am finally realizing the secret to life and maintaining a healthy relationship. Social things have been up and around, over and everywhere. Trying to figure out life without certain stimulation and the never-ending pull of the NYC nightlife is hard, but very doable. I hate it when people tell you to stay true to yourself. Stay true to me kicking you in the throat. Instead I like to think that all of my loves and interests and hobbies are like little flames dance around my heart. Isn’t that a pretty visual? And my struggle thus far has been keeping all of the flames lit without have some burn out of control and the others go out. I think all of the things I involve myself with are important. If I let things fade just to make life easier or to make my interactions with someone easier I’m not doing either of us justice. The point of me being myself and you being yourself is that when we come together we enrich each other’s lives. So instead of being really awesome and aware of some things I can be really good and aware of a ton of things. And if I keep my interests alive I’ll always have things to fall back on when social times reach a lull, or I’ll always have something to introduce to someone else. Now my next move is to branch out and figure out more things I like to do/am interested in. I’d like summer ’09 to be about self discovery and building up the relationships I have right now. I’d like to make the fun in my relationship with Ryan the best fun we’ve ever seen. I’d like to make all of my close friendships into best friendships. I’d like to make my job something that continues to inspire me and make me want to fuse art and retail more often. All of these things are totally doable. I’m way more capable than I let myself believe that I am. I will be awesome and you will be awesome and together we will create leagues upon leagues of awesomeness.

birthday birthday birthday.

2009-02-10T00:43:00.007-05:00

And then I was 26.

Diving right on in, my birthday dinner last night was fantastic. Sometimes I have a really hard time hanging out with my friends. I know it’s some sort of social anxiety that I should really examine, but for now it is what it is… so when I reach out and really try to surround myself with people it’s a big deal for me. And I’m proud of myself. I don’t just feel good about having people with me on my birthday, I feel good about letting go of whatever it is that keeps me from surrounding myself with people that I care about. Being out with people was different this time; I realized that no matter how I mistreat myself or others there are still people who are willing to fit my life into theirs. I love(d) it.

The end of the night was not what I expected it to be, but I think the unexpected situations in life are the ones that make everything else seem more real, more poignant, and more special. Sometimes things get hairy but I know now that the life I lead isn’t one I'd trade for any other. I think I was built to flounder and then flourish; and at some point I’m sure the trials of youth will subside and I will emerge on top and more together than I ever imagined. But the ups and downs that have salt and peppered my life are tiny examples of the bad, better, and best of what I used to be, and maybe the wonder that awaits me.

I feel better about 26 than I did about 25. I think the importance of the number weighs heavily on people. 25 is supposed to be a landmark age, it’s a tool of measurement, and increment of time, it’s a form of currency. It’s a relief to be 26. Now I feel that all I have to live up to is my own desires and responsibilities. I want 2009 to be about the growing out that comes with growing up. I want it to be about friends and friendship; I need to sort out my relationships. The last two days have showed me that Ryan Pfluger is one of the most important people that I’ve ever known, and that Ryan Hill is nothing less than a miracle; and that he has saved my life in more ways than I can explain in more ways than I can count. These are things I need to remember. These are things I need to keep. I can’t let people suffer because of my misgivings. I forgot how special people can be. And now I remember.

I spent my birthday the exact way I’d like to spend it. I slept in and got some much needed rest. I played videogames with my best friend, hanging out has become a sort of lifeblood. I ventured into NYC; met my boyfriend and a lemon tart. He bought me a dark gray wing, one to compliment his silver one. We are two different halves of a very perfect pair. We don’t match at all, but we certainly go together. He bought me a shirt that costs more than a third of my wardrobe put together. I said I wanted to rework my wardrobe this year and instantly he put me on that path. That is the kind of person that you never know how to thank. But I will try. We came home and ate macaroni and cheese, cupcakes, tarts, and brownies. Bonnie and Caitlin came over and we watched Will and Grace, RuPaul's Drag Race, Chelsea Lately, and Gossip Girl. The perfect end to a wonderful evening.

Videogames, books, brownies, dinner, and cupcakes abound;
so far 26 feels alright.
I am looking forward to the way that things could be.

Oh, and this is what I want next year click this link

And if you want to help a nerd realize his true potential then you should click this link right here

xoxo
gossip girl.

2009-01-28T21:46:00.003-05:00

I am addicted to self expression and I will never not refer to myself as a boy.

I also cut my thumbnails too short once again. This will never end.

In lieu of writing I have been trying to do a lot more thinking recently. I suppose I am still trying, on the almost eve of my 26th year, to figure myself out to the best of my ability. I have come to the realization that the boy in me has yet to shed his youthful skin and tiptoe into adulthood. I was sitting on my xbox 360 the other day, eating cookies and thinking about my upcoming x-men tattoo (see), when I think it really hit me. And unlike other times when I self analyze this assessment stuck. I don’t know if it’s my ability to trust people ‘til the death, my inability to see the future more than 5 steps ahead of me, or my deep belief in the idea of wonder that keeps the kid in me alive… or maybe it’s a combination of all of those things. I just don’t feel like I’m growing up. I don’t feel the age even though I know I’m older. Instead it feels like I’m jumping rocks in a river; just as delighted to take flight as I am to find the ground again.

I have decided that 2009 should be about friendship. There are people an arm’s reach away from me that I’ve lost and that have lost me. And I hate it when that happens. I hate it when we both forget. And then it turns into the “I miss you” game. It is so simple and then it is so hard. I see the echo of my best friendships in everything I do. When I walk down a certain street or listen to a certain song. I can feel all of these relationships swirling around me. I can feel myself running through the rain on a Saturday afternoon, or entangling myself in someone whose scent wafts my way. I really think that is one of the worst parts of life. The losses that aren’t HUGE… the ones that just seem to happen and make little bits of your world fade away. And then I say things like “I want…” and “I miss…” and “I love…” and that only makes it worse; its little pin-prick reminders of the pieces of the people that we all used to be.

Sometimes it’s a wonder that everyone I know hasn’t shattered completely; shut down from constantly breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. Hah; this all seems so sad and yet I know it to be true. I feel like fragments of myself all of the time. Like people rarely ever get to see me, they just get an ever-chipping facet. I think that is why I cling to my idea of a childlike mentality. I just don’t want to give up on the possibility that things will once again gel. Maybe maybe maybe. I just don’t want to miss people anymore! I don’t want to feel like I have all of these open connections searching for an end. I don’t want to think of things I know I would enjoy doing with someone I lost my spark with. It makes the bleak seem that much more desolate. I want to feel like we are constantly connecting and combusting. I want to reignite whatever I need to reignite and realize the togetherness that I am missing.
That I always miss.
It is always missing.
Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe.

08/09

2009-01-01T23:55:00.001-05:00

So 2008 has finally come to an end.

With its departure I am also waving goodbye to the crippling demon of self doubt that kept me from realizing my dreams of blogging between heartbeats. SO... I'm back again.

I don't want to do a bullet list of the pros and cons of our previous year. What's over is done, no need to hash out the past in preparation for the future.

In my youth I was hesitant to actually have resolutions. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my own expectations of change; and that would result in an added resolution for the following year. But I think I’ve overcome that obstacle now. I’m trying to focus all of my energies on the completion of tasks and the building of plans… this way I won’t be holding on to expectations blindly.
Sounds awesome, right? I know.

So the last 6 or so months I’ve spent working myself ragged, playing xboxlive like my controller is the second coming of christ, and reorganizing my apartment until my brain stem bleeds. It’s good. I got promoted at work. My salary increased like, $8,000. That’s something to jump up and down about. I like knowing that decisions I make are being taken more seriously. I’m one of those people who thinks the things they have to say are important enough to shape an entire nation. And by one of those people I mean everyone, because we all think we have something to say.

2008 was an emotional year for everyone I know. It was like a constant looping rollercoaster. The ride is really nice, but the inability to get off is what makes it scary. And while I know my friends are very smart, I doubt anyone has figured out how to get off of life. So I’m hoping the coming of 2009 heralds in more of a parkway-like life; with off/on ramps, merging, and the occasional douchebag trying to run you off of the road.

Ryan and I are taking a trip to Puerto Rico in the end of February. I’m excited about wandering through the warmth in the dead of New York winter. It’s going to be good fun. We are also going to go see Kathy Griffin in February. Look at me, all busy and shit. My birthday is a month away and for some reason 26 sounds more soothing to me than 25. I don’t really believe that I actually grow in maturity in correlation with me growing in age, but to me 25 is that landmark age and anything older than that is special. I’m excited to be that kind of special, it makes me feel invincible. That sounds a little backwards, but if it made too much sense it would sound all trite and overworked, and the last thing I want to do is spout out tired clichés about age and death and blahblahblah.

Last night was great. The end of ’08 was lots of fun. I got to see a lot of friends I haven’t seen in a very long time and revel in the delight of making new ones. There was flavored vodka galore, champagne, and photo shoots. Good times. The end of the night reaffirmed the meaning of the word terror. But out of horrors sometimes wonderful beginnings are born. I think this year will mean wonders for me and mine. And I think the same for you and yours. And for us and ours, I hope the New Year means crazy good times, crazy fun, and more videogames. There are some awesome ones coming out this year.

2008-06-24T07:31:00.000-04:00

I just got home from an overnight and I should be sleeping.

Well then...

Goodnight.

life lessons.

2008-06-18T17:37:00.001-04:00

Life is as interesting as you make it.

I just found a quarter in a pair of shorts I haven't worn in years.

Now it's tucked behind my license in my wallet for good luck.

Interesting it is!

Blanche Devereaux

2008-06-18T15:00:00.003-04:00

I feel like I should be creating. I find myself writing little blurbs in my phone or on my computer; opening up text documents and letting a few words flow. But then I stop myself. I wonder why. I am reminded of similar goings on that took place on an episode of The Golden Girls not too long ago. I remember Blanche was having trouble writing something or other and something happened and then everyone laughed before raising their arms in triumph over the evils of osteoporosis. I can't decide if that means I need to find some personal evil to vanquish or if I am sorely in need of guidance from a gaggle of gray-haired women.

I think the problem is that I know exactly what it is I am up to at the moment and exactly what it is I am feeling. Previously when I wrote anything of substance that was my weird sort of fusion of prose and poetry (Prosetry?) I was ass-deep in contemplation. Contemplating life and love and this and that. But I'm all stopped up. I think my continuing hiatus from writing ANYTHING is behind all of this. I keep letting myself not write in my blog, then when I try to express myself via text I have to remember what my voice reads like. It's coming back to me in booms and bursts, but I would like to get to the mega-explosion at the end. For the most part I write the way I speak. That is why I am a no good poet by dictionary definition. I'd say it's more of a rhythmic and lyrical free flowing uncensored thought process that breaks and builds with every press and pause my fingertips take.

I may or may not be sabotaging myself. That's okay. I'm up for a little reconnaissance and espionage work.

I've actually come up to a few conclusions after writing those sentences as to why I do the things I do, why I am the person I am, and how I need to make these things change. So... in essence I really am sabotaging myself. It hits on the same notes as yesterday's post. Is it self preservation or outright selfishness? I'm fairly certain you can't have one without the other but I'm certain you can have too much of one or both. I think I am starving myself from the sort of attention I really want (read: don't need) in some useless attempt to quell said desire for said attention. But in acknowledging the fact that I don't need this attention it has become quite clear to me that I do need it. As I said at the start of this post I feel like I should be creating things. I feel like I should be creating things that garner the sort of attention I am lacking. What is that? i don't know. I want to be appreciated for being familiar and special in a human and obsequious way. I want to be able to write things that mean something to everyone, but not tons to anyone. I would like to be able to express myself without fear of exposing a nerve and letting my subconscious bleed out. It's hard. Hard to break free of. Hard to explain, really. Hard nonetheless.

And that is why I didn't write.
I didn't write to keep the peace.
But I've missed it and I need it.
I suppose this is when I decide that each keystroke will save my life.

blah blah blog.

2008-06-17T22:56:00.006-04:00

I keep not writing in here and it's not because I'm not committed. I think about not writing in here all of the time. Unfortunately I do this thing where instead of releasing my emotions I let them bottle up until I lash out at someone (usually someone at work). So, life updates.

Work has been interesting. It's clear to me that upward movement is at a standstill so all I can do for the time being is continue to be amazing and fantastic. It's uncomfortable to know that your talents and abilities would gain you acclaim, respect, and more responsibility if you were elsewhere... because there is the constant "what if I" brewing in the back of my head. On the other hand, my talents and my work has been noted and I know my place is one of value for now. SO if something comes along it may not be mine right off the bat, but I know I will get what I deserve eventually. The question is... how long is too long before eventually rears it's glorious head? Should I wait another two years? I don't think so. Two years is a long time to be bouncing back and forth in the same position... or is it? I don't know. I think sometimes I see the world in "what I deserve" terms and not "what I can get" terms. Either outlook is damning if you follow it 100% so I'm trying at a blend. I want to rock the boat just enough for people to know I'm out at sea but not enough to cast myself overboard. I wish the game of life would play out like chess and not like Go Fish. Without going into too much detail I will describe the last few weeks at work. I have spent more time saying the words" fuck you" "fuck" "fuck off" and "fuck yourself" than I have in all of my years on this tumultuous sphere combined. While I know those aren't the most sophistocated of words if you sandwich them between words like "Nevertheless", "Thusly", and "Consequently" it makes it sound a lot more warm and comfortable. It makes me feel scholarly. The usual back and forth, he said she said have been amplified to ridiculous heights. It's like 6th grade but with grown-up genitals and legal ability to drink. SO for the time being it is what it is; uncomfortably comfortable and unusually awkward. Thankfully I thrive in awkward situations. According to everyone I am exceedingly approachable. That means I am privy to all sorts of petty drama. Knowing things sometimes makes it easier to ignore things. While I know this is all a recipe for disaster, it will keep me entertained until it's time to arm myself with words and start to get stabby.

Other than that things are okay I suppose. I have been thinking a lot about my friends and the relationships I have or haven't maintained. Most days I feel like a bad friend. I'm terrible at keeping in contact with people. I almost never go out when I'm invited until somewhat recently. I've turned into somewhat of a homebody. I don't know... here is what I'm thinking. I can't decide if I'm really being a bad friend or of I'm afraid to extend myself because I don't want to take on the responsibility of maintaining strong friendships. Spending my waking hours bouncing work scenarios back and forth in my head and spending so much time making words and feelings work while I'm at work has left me with little emotional time to want to spend on other people. Does that make me a self preservationist or a shitty friend? I don't know. And while it doesn't work so much for other people right now it's working for me so I'm going to run with it. I've been putting myself out there a bit more recently though, so I feel good about where things may be going. I don't know that I should apologize for not being there for anyone right now. I suppose it's selfish and self righteous, but if I can't keep my own thoughts afloat I'd be hard pressed to float the thoughts of others.

Not too long ago we decided that it was time to start watching The Golden Girls religiously. It makes my butt happy.

My Life on The D-List also started up again last week. Fantastic. If ever I were to be someone's gay I'd want to belong to Kathy Griffin. Her hosting of the Bravo A-List awards was fantastic. That evil homosexual that screamed in peoples' faces and ran away from idiots also gave me a good giggle. Exciting.

Brad's birthday party at the Annex was fun. A female Danny DeVito circa Batman Returns threw herself at me and my friends Kathy and Jessica; she came complete with smock-like moo-moo and obnoxious cackle. She delighted me with tales of her obnoxious friend who forced herself on others and talked entirely too much. I was tempted to ask her if her friend was named Obnoxious Girl in Moo-Moo Talking to Me Right Now... but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Shortly after that another bunch of friends (my fantastic boyfriend included) and I found ourselves talking to one another when we were thrown the offer of friendship by yet another bar loner. Jihan was her name. Her father is Middle-Eastern so she wouldn't dream of dating a Jewish man. It took all of the restraint I could muster up not to call her Jihad and hurl her into one of the twin towers. (Too soon?). Point being... I am an idiot magnet. Thank god I've got a swarm of amazing people to keep me company when I brave the outside world. It's too bad Staten Island throws up on NYC every Friday and Saturday night; it would be a much more pleasant place to frequent and maybe I wouldn't have so many Cosmos spilled all over my shirt.

Done and done.

okay.

2008-05-29T16:32:00.000-04:00

So I'm updating via my new fancy blackberry. That said; I went ahead and bought myself a new fancy blackberry. Aside from needing immediate access to me e-mail because I'm super important, I also just really wanted something with a qwerty keyboard. I had my horrible razor for what seemed like 20 years so when my upgrade came along I jumped on the smart phone bandwagon. I was tempted to get an iphone but considering how much I text I know I'd end up dropping that thing multiple times per day. I know they are drop tested but considering my ipod now conveniently opens up at the seam I figured I'd go with something heartier and less expensive. This only cost me $70 after all.

Anyway what else is going on; I had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. I went with Ryan to spend time with/meet some more of his family. I had an amazing time. I wish my family was as receptive as his is. I know they have grown much more accepting over the years, but my mind is still shrouded in doubt. I guess that's the after effect of years of father-fashioned fear. I'm making my best efforts to make them a little more receptive to me and mine, so we'll see.

I've been trying to ignore all things not integral to my survival in the last few weeks. I've been doing a lot of thinking. I do not now nor have I ever had a functioning relationship with my father. Until somewhat recently I thought he was more inclined to hate me than anything else. I certainly do have my reasons that I don't want to dissect right now; but never having a relationship with someone of that caliber stings pretty righteously. Paired with the constant ache of no support from a loved one is the constant wonder of how to feel this ache, when to feel it, and why I feel it. I am mostly content with my youth but the parts that don't fit into mostly are... mostly dad-made. All of those things said I recently got some potentially bad news about my father. His PSA levels are really high; which could mean anything from simple urinary troubles to prostate cancer. He's supposed to be getting biopsied soon but he's being stubborn and thoughtless as usual so he hasn't even made the appointment yet.

So here I am. Growing up without my father at my back has left me wanting in the emotional department. Myself approval as an upstanding gentleman waxes and wanes and I attribute bits and pieces of this dysfunction to my lack of a relationship with my father. I often wonder if it’s worse growing up without a parent or growing up with one that simply doesn't care. This is directly affecting how this news of possible disease attaches itself to me. Is it wrong that I do and don't care? Can you really feel bad for someone who was never really there to begin with? Can I really care this or that much? I really don't know. I don't know how I feel. Is it bad to wish an end to what has seemingly been a lifelong struggle of mine? And what of the guilt that ensues from just thinking these things and wondering about these wonders? I can't tell if I feel terrible or if I feel horrible. It’s not so much tumultuous as it is tedious and not so much heart wrenching as it is heartbreaking.

It has added stress to an already troubled soul. We'll see how this all plays out. I feel like my job situation has become increasingly desperate. I'm definitely playing the corporate ping pong game. And unfortunately the only one looking out for me is me. My insecurities and weakness are being exploited and of course one of my weaknesses is putting myself in the shoes of the exploited. Hopefully things change soon. Or maybe I'll just have to jump ship.

I know I am my own worst enemy but the cards I'm being dealt are impossibly bleak and trying to constantly look on the bright side will be my eventual downfall.

a liar.

2008-05-29T04:53:00.003-04:00

As you can see from my last post I am clearly a liar as I haven't updated anything. I'm still working on that poem, though. I also cut my thumbnails way too short and now my entire life hurts.

fancy times

2008-05-16T23:21:00.002-04:00

I've been working on a poem. I like where it's going thus far, but we'll see if I'm ready to post it within the next few days. I am currently in the market for a really good not too expensive tattoo artist in the Brooklyn/Manhattan area. Someone let me know if they know anybody good!

I'm going to update for reals this weekend. I invite you all to sweat in anticipation.

begin to hope.

2008-05-07T15:32:00.004-04:00

Sometimes I think my emotional biological clock is working in reverse. Unlike most people, i abhor the summertime. I don't really know why, either. I really enjoy the fact that I can go outside in just a hoodie (I'll wear a hoodie in up to 90 degree weather, it's true) without freezing to death, but the other summertime staples escape me. I understand the appeal of the sun and it's warmth; people and their gathering; outside and it's happenings and other warm weather things you can come up with. And more often than not I am completely okay with these things. BUT every now and again I despise the warmer weather and it's events. I don't know why. I know these are things I should like simply because I would probably benefit from going out and experiencing things and people in this outdoor friendly time of year, but that knowledge isn't enough to keep me from sitting in my house watching Forensic Files.

Actually, I don't think I dislike it as much as I pretend to. SEE!? Emotions getting the best of me and making me into some mole person. I think I'm just more emotional in the summertime. I know everyone and their mother is thrown into this wild and crazy downward spiral of crushing and devastating depression during the winter season, but my life is like 5th grade opposite day. (Sidebar: I just got a call from a girl asking, rather frantically, if I posted her bail yet! Sadly, no I did not.)

I've been thinking a lot about my life in general. Where I am right now, what I'm doing, where i want to be. You know, average mental activities of your textbook 20-something. And while I know I'm certainly not where I'd like to be in terms of my job and finances, or my living situation (when it's warm outside everyday is parade day), I'm in an okay spot. Things are tough every now and again when it comes to money, and friends, and my relationship... but lately every time I think about the bad the angel on my shoulder shocks me into thinking about good things. I know nothing is perfect, I'm sure we all do, but sometimes the good certainly outweighs the bad. And some things certainly are worth struggling for. Eventually I'll get promoted at my job or I'll find another one, and we'll move out of this paper mache apartment complex. I just celebrated my 2 year anniversary with Ryan. Last week he took me to see Goldfrapp as a surprise anniversary gift. I almost shit myself with excitement. Seriously if you ever do anything again in your life ever, go see Goldfrapp. And make sure someone you love surprises you with a ticket. Amazing. I have lots of photos, but I'm only going to post this one right now.

I've also come into family somewhat recently. I have a new nephew, his name is Christopher.

I think I look prim and proper with a child in my arms. Don't you? One of these days I'd like to have a child of my own... once I can manage to stop spending excess money on video game paraphernalia.

Anyway, like I said. Two year anniversary business. So our actual anniversary was yesterday May 6th, so I tried my best to recreate our first date. I think we actually did everything we did on our first date, some things were tweaked. I made breakfast yesterday morning. Sounds easy enough, but once you put me into a kitchen setting it's done. I can barely put water into the filter without soaking myself and my surroundings in gallons of water. But I think I pulled it off. I wanted to be sweet. Instead of Mr. Softee we went to that ice cream place off of 2nd ave with delicious delicious ice cream that comes in wacky flavors. And instead of going to Blockbuster and renting Monster In Law we went to Virgin and I bought Heathers, The Rose, Dancer In The Dark, and the Reno 911 movie. Sometimes it seems as though we've been together forever and other times it seems like I just met Ryan yesterday. I keep having that "I know you" feeling. You know when you know someone and you're just... around them... and all of a sudden you realize that you know them, oftentimes better than you usually think you do. Ah well, all I can say is things are going well. Until things kick into gear and I start moving onward and upward at least I've got my idiosyncratic joys, my itunes playlists, my video games, my exquisite wit, and my amazing boyfriend.

On May 6th 2006 I was tricked into relinquishing my heart to a fantastic man. 2 years later and I'm still without my most weighty of organs; tucked into his back pocket for safekeeping.

Here he is.

Here we are.

And here is a grape with a vagina.

OH and also. Barack Obama is probably going to beat out Hilary. While I won't discuss my opinion on this election in this lowly excuse for a paragraph I just wanted to make mention of the state of our potential democratic candidate. You heard it here folks, black people are pretty sweet.

new post

2008-04-29T12:29:00.001-04:00

I haven't updated my blog in almost a month. I know my hiatus isn't in compliance with my numerous vows to update on a regular basis, but I needed some time. I needed lots of time. Real life is continually attacking me when I least expect it; slipping some Rohypnol into my Fresca and having its beastly way with me. If ever I were to claim that everyday life was more convulsive and tumultuous than spending a warm afternoon on Canal St, the happenings of these last few weeks would illustrate said adjectives more than perfectly.

Sometimes I think that I’m not updating my blog because I want to talk about the fact that I have so many things to talk about that I haven’t been able to because I’m not updating my blog which facilitates a blog update in itself. Time, tide, and blog... they all wait for no man, woman, intersexed, or transgendered individual. I’m sitting on the train making my way back to Brooklyn and I feel like I have arrived; drinking my coffee, listening to The Mountain Goats, sitting on my laptop typing up a blog entry. I think 17-year-old me would be very impressed with 25-year-old me. Too bad 17-year-old me doesn’t know 25-year-old me would shoot a hole in his own foot to trade places with said memory of myself. Every time I’ on Long Island I’m reminded of my youth, and how I miss it. Unlike almost every else I know I loved high school. You’re all Romy and I’m Michelle. High school was a blast. I think it’s because I felt like I didn’t belong growing up in the neighborhood I grew up in and going to a private school a few towns away let me be as weird and as wacky as I felt like being. It’s almost comical how even the most self deprecating of people agrees that they are special enough to need a niche. I’m not the most self deprecating of people... I’m just saying.

Speaking of saying things, I’ve taken to the word “sweet” in inappropriate ways. I’ve been saying “sweet” for the last few years for comedy effect, but now I find myself saying “sweet” during telephone conversations with customer service representatives, to my recently deceased landlord’s daughter, or to the man punching my ticket on the LIRR. He just punched my ticked and I looked at him and said “SWEET!” I can’t tell If I’m regressing to some primordial dude state or of I’m just so much fun that I can’t help myself. I’ve also found myself saying “Come on man” and “No way man, no way” way more often than I’d like. There is a girl sitting across from me who is REALLY excited about going into Manhattan today. She keeps saying “NEW YORK CITTAY!!!!!!!” I can’t. I can’t do the “cittay” thing. Or “partay” or anything else you can add “ay” on to the end of. Anyone who knows me knows I bring up how much I hate that on an almost weekly basis. Seriously, come on man.

I am going to invent an invisible ink font. This way I could talk about whatever I want and not worry about anybody I don’t want seeing anything seeing anything or bringing silly things up at work. Something that’s always bothered me about public forums of expression (this dates back to my livejournal days) is when someone reads something you’ve written that had nothing to do with them and then they think it’s a good idea to either address you about what it is you wrote in person, or bring up what you’ve written in casual conversation as though the inner workings of my cerebellum are to be made into table talk and lunchtime conversation. No. No it’s really not. I don’t think that’s something that you really need to remind people of, either. Isn’t that just understood? Isn’t it written in the constellations? Unless I invite you to talk ABOUT something I wrote about in person, keep quiet. If you want to ask me about something go for it, I’m all ears. But don’t come at me and make it into a conversation, really. Hello rudeness!

[Here is where we insert a break; I am now sitting in my apartment watching the View and its Tuesday, not Sunday]

Tonight Ryan is taking me to see Goldfrapp. I don’t know how he managed to get us fantastic seats after the show already sold out, but he did. I thoroughly enjoy her new album so I hope she plays a lot of new stuff. Of course I wouldn’t mind hearing some older Goldfrapp; back when I partied 7 nights a week I couldn’t take a step without hearing another Goldfrapp song. She is near and dear to my heart. I am so excited. I hear her shows are amazing and I could use some amazingness.

My cat just farted and it smells like someone set a tire and ass factory on fire. Gross.

I bought a set of weights to put to use on my unused weight bench. I bought said bench last summer and I bought one of those big long barbells with it. I’ve only used it a handful of times because it makes me feel silly having to hold up that giant bar. So the weight bench has become more of a pant storage destination. When I get home from work and my pants come off they end up sitting on my weight bench. I think I got up to almost 7 pairs of pants on the bench when I decided I should put it to actual use. So I bought two smaller barbells. They are both 20lbs. 20lbs may not sound like a lot but after a while 20lbs starts kicking my ass. I am doing this in conjunction with the healthier eating lifestyle to hopefully prevent the onset of the love handle.

Work has become an experience. If the options were to sink or swim you’d find me floating 15ft out from the shore. I have no idea what the future holds with the company I’m working for, or if there is even anything in store for the future. Perhaps I am destined to spend all of eternity arranging moderately priced linen pants for carrot-shaped foreigners who let their children draw on the walls with crayons before asking me how to get to Ed Hardy. Or perhaps my over qualification and oodles of experience will propel me into the upper echelons of merchandising. My team dynamic is really good right now, though. We’re finally at a point where we can have non-stop fun and still get our work done. Although there will always be the folks who say we’re having too much fun. It’s weird; whenever you work a merchandising job the people who aren’t merchandisers are always jealous of you. Jealous of your sense of humor, jealous of the way you dress and things of that nature. I don’t think they realize that most of us use humor as a defense mechanism. Or that we dress differently because we are strange and we get made fun of for our outfit choices outside of our work environment. Oh well. I suppose the leggings are always greener on the other side of the sales floor.

Speaking of work; yesterday I zipped my underwear up into my pants and didn’t realize there was a huge gaping hole in the pouch of my briefs until I felt one of my balls slip out. Things like this are always happening to me. I should have my own sitcom.

blah

2008-03-30T01:29:00.003-04:00

[insert incredulous sigh]
life.

easter on the island of long.

2008-03-23T17:36:00.003-04:00

I have a big update brewing inside of me. I've also gotten my hands on a ton of photos from decades past. Yikes.

amanda overmyer

2008-03-20T22:12:00.002-04:00

If Pink and Rachel Ray had a baby...

I went skiing!

2008-03-14T23:17:00.011-04:00

So I went skiing.

Ryan's dad and girlfriend planned a skiing trip for all of us (the two of them, me, Ryan, Ryan's brother Brady, his sister Becky, his brother's girlfriend Blair, and his sister's friend Amy)a few months ago and the trip finally came into fruition last week. I don't know why I decided to call everyone out by name, but it's a say something dress day so why not be carefree?

The trip was fantastic. Aside from desperately needing time away from this awful city, getting away cleared my head a bit. I'm not seeing things any clearer, but the urge to backhand everyone I come into contact with is at ease for now. It was a much needed and much deserved vacation. Sometimes I forget how hard me and Ryan work because we're not out there "busting our asses" digging wells or building houses or whatever it is grown men do in the square states. It's a lot of work making people feel pretty, whatever avenue it is you travel down to do so. Anyway, skiing.

It was fantastic. My ski outfit was fantastic. My jacket is navy blue with yellow and red strips about the chest. I had a brown/tan striped scarf, gray gloves, and BRIGHT SPRING GREEN snow pants. It looked like the '70s vomited all over me. I was in heaven. Hanging out in hotel rooms, eating out with newfound friends and family, 24hr cuddle parties. Good things, good times. Although, there may have been a snafu or two whilst we danced down those icy slopes of upstate New York. I may or may not have killed an Asian girl. Here's the thing; she was asking for it. I followed along a line of skiers, bounding back and forth from one side of our path to the other when all of a sudden the girl in front of me decides to a) stop and b) turn around. Um, what? You're not doing a toe-spike and this isn't the Ice Capades, Michelle Kwan. SO suffice it to say my chest came into contact with her entire life and a split second later I found myself side-stepping back up the hill to check on this broken pile of girl laying, stunned, in the middle of the pathway. She says she's fine but her arm really hurts. She assures me she will be okay and so I go on my merry way. But as I start back down the mountain I look over my shoulder and see her collapse (intoapileofporkfriedrice :x)and I am almost moved enough to stop again and make sure she's okay. But by that time I was hundreds of feet away and there were other people swarming around her. Long story short, don't fuck with me. I also got going down another slope at around, 900pmh. Ryan was sure I was going to die but I came out of it and pulled off a dazzling performance... not unlike one Ms. Michelle Kwan!

Our hotel room was fantastic. Eating wine and cheese and watching planet terror is what I think life is all about. Lots more happened, but I'm not one to list my every joy in the world. I like to keep my secrets. Although I do feel closer to Ryan than I have ever felt before. And I think walking back up that mountain over and over again has taught me to pace myself somewhat. I will not roll with the punches because I do not roll with the punches; I think now though I will try not to punch back so hard when said punches are being punched at me. Punch.

It's almost midnight and I'm naked watching Forensic Files in our living room. I'm curled up in a blanket that isn't anywhere near as warm or comfortable as the bed Ryan is currently passed out on BUT I can't go to sleep without sharing some NYC stories with you. First, as I was walking with some friends during my lunch break yesterday a large, juicy, black man said "How you doin' baby?" in my general direction. I thought he was talking to my friend Sara so of course I couldn't resist myself. "I"m fine, how are you?" I replied. But it was one of those replies that wasn't really directed at the juicy black man, it was just shot out into the sky. AND HE ANSWERED ME BACK! He said "GOOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' TOMORROW NIGHT!?!??!" My reply to that was a brisk walk away from my juicy suitor, though I did happen a glance back at him. Never in my life have I seen a juicier, blacker, older, gold-toothedier man. Never. He looked like Aunt Jemima in Blackface. He looked like he gave birth to the crushed velvet suit. He was so juicy, I'm almost certain it was all grease, fatback, and crisco. I wish I had a bag of sand to throw on his face and sop him up. Gross.

Then today on my way home I was sitting in between my usual Latina Sandwich. Latina #1 was texting up a fury, cursing into her sidekick. Latina #2 was molding a section of curls with HER OWN BAMBOO EARRING! While I thought my riding situation couldn't get any better, a fight broke out between a black woman, herself, her friend, and a white guy. She could not believe that we had to get off of the J train at Marcy and transfer to the M train (because the J runs express, the M is local). She couldn't believe it. From Canal St. to the Williamsburg bridge to the platform to the M train. She was in shock and everyone needed to know about it. White guy looks in her general direction and she goes off. Telling her friend she's not crazy, and that white people are always looking at her like she's crazy. But she is not crazy. And while she is not crazy her friend is staring at her as though she is crazy. She asked Latina #3 if she "could believe this shit!" but #3 was lost in a cloud of Jay-Z, neon high-tops, and beef patties, so she was no help. All of a sudden she quiets down and tells her friend she's acting crazy. And that somehow white people always manage to see her when she's acting crazy. Her friend points out the fact that she denied being crazy while her fit was still going on... and she laughed. Then she walked over to white guy, said "you know I was just playing right?"; gave him a pound, and then exited the train before me. The moral of this story is... should you find yourself white, in the company of women who are several shades darker than you, and traveling to one of the lesser boroughs... avert your eyes. You will, perhaps, incite a riot within a single crazed black woman that will scare you, confuse you, confound you, and then shake your hand.

Clearly, I can't. I just can't.
I wonder what treasures tomorrow has in store for me.
Goodnight.

dreams

2008-03-10T02:55:00.003-04:00

I just woke up crying/sweating/panting from the worst nightmare I've ever had. Ever!
Maybe I'll tell you about it.

one line

2008-03-04T08:50:00.001-05:00

and i draw a line
to your heart today
"to your heart from mine
a line to keep us safe"

I hope I never end up on Forensic Files.

2008-02-27T23:47:00.003-05:00

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!

2008-02-19T22:56:00.004-05:00

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

2008-02-15T01:21:00.002-05:00

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

2008-02-09T13:08:00.000-05:00

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.

AND

2008-01-18T07:02:00.000-05:00

I ordered a fantastic print of a photo created by a really, really talented young lady named Madeline. This is what I ordered:

Here is the link to her stuff:
http://www.etsy.com/profile.php?user_id=5098586

Buy stuff!

lessons in, on, and around escapism.

2008-01-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

It's snowing in Brooklyn.

How fancy is that?

So... I have a weird feeling in my stomach. I can't pinpoint what, exactly it is; or how, exactly to deal with it. But I feel like I need to go soon. From New York, I mean. And move somewhere far, far away. I've always felt like I came here because this is where you come when you move off of Long Island (if you're of my alternative persuasion, of course)... and now I'm pretty sure it's time to move on. New York is not built for someone like me. It turns people inside out and makes it hard to relate to them in ways that are unspoken and important. It amazes me how standing in the midst of 40 or so people crammed into a subway car elbow-to-elbow feels more lonely than sitting alone in my apartment organizing my itunes. And sure, you know, everyone here feels the same way... but it's not something I can do forever; I can hardly wrap my brain around doing it for now.

As a child I remember holding on to things too long. Letting my emotions run the gamut on my insides; carving out little pieces of my circulatory system so that every heartbeat was a reminder of the joy/pain/sadness/contentedness I felt on a daily basis. And I thought that when I moved away from that godforsaken mass of gated communities that I would blossom into something or someone a little less like the dictionary definition of a person and a little more like joan of arc. But leaving the walls of my hometown behind proved more difficult than I thought, and I never quite managed to move out of the home inside my heart. But I've made it thus far, soon to be 25. And you know I've never needed a savior; I just require company. In exchange for unconditional love and the insurmountable ability to understand I would just like to talk.

But like I said, talking isn't bred in a city built like this. And that, I suppose, is out of my hands.

I'm tired.

I start my management training at work next week.
The descent begins.

long time gone.

2008-01-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

So I'm back from a hiatus of sorts. I don't really know why I took one, but I'm glad it's over. I think the holiday tension, good or bad, put my writing skills on hold to make space for other more or less intense emotions to take over me, myself, and I.

This past Christmas ended up being better than any Christmas I can remember; maybe not as good as those of my early childhood... but better than any in the last decade, for sure. This New Years was also one of the more fun New Years I've spent in my adult body. Hanging out with friends, making out with boyfriends in bars at the stroke of midnight, eating pizza in the back rooms of bars in Williamsburg, bouncing from one gay bar to the next. Fun times.

I'm going to write another post soon, one about life and work and whatnot. I just need to ease my fingers back into working. Me and Ryan are eating soup and watching movies at the moment. But for now I will leave you with pictures of my new computer, my new camera, and my fancy new in-progress hairstyle via the webcam built-in to said fancy new computer. When it's ready to expose itself I'll be sure to post more pictures.

Fancy new computer:

Fancy new camera:

Fancy new hair:

long island bound

2007-12-25T00:05:00.000-05:00

I wanted this post to be really long and involved, but I think I'm going to cut it short for tonight and get to the real meat of my mind happenings tomorrow.

I'm on Long Island for Christmas. What usually ends in some sort of heartache and/or disappointment is instead coming along rather nicely. My recent experiences with Long Island have been a little less than savory. My family life is to be discussed pending the depth of tomorrow's post. But... I will tell you this. Spending a few hours in a car with very good friends; blasting The Get Up Kids (singing along, of course) and driving from 7-11 to 7-11 filling our bodies with various flavored coffees is nothing short of amazing. This evening with Melinda awakened a long since dead part of me. I forgot what it was to sing like that, and just not care.

I always care now. No matter what. It's not even lost youth, it's my own neuroses stifling my self expression. I wonder why i choose to channel my being into these little facets of a personality, bits and pieces of a whole self. I feel like everyone I know only offers up 25%. There is always something more. And more often than not it's something more special or spectacular that they shelved in order to be this concentric circle wave in a sea of individuals. Sometimes metaphors don't do me or my thoughts justice. But it's okay. I'm on the road to self discovery and it's certainly something I'm looking forward to.

So... I'll post again tomorrow. I swear to you blog. I'm sorry I don't take as much care of us as I should. You'll see, though; and you won't be able to get rid of me.

new screen name/post

2007-12-16T00:53:00.000-05:00

I've got a pretty delicious post brewing. It will see the light of day tomorrow. I also changed my screen name. The new one is enter seraphim. If you can figure out what that is in reference to you control the fate of my immortal soul.

wayne

2007-12-06T19:28:00.000-05:00

I have this giant pimple growing on my forehead, right above my right eyebrow. I've named the pimple Wayne. It was a toss-up between Wayne and Barbara, but he didn't seem plucky enough to be named Barbara so Wayne stuck.

It's been a while since I've posted something of significance, though I am beginning to think everything I think about posting is significant enough for me to play out through my keyboard instead of just in my head. I've been working like a madman this past week. Overnights, 5am shifts. Floormoves and important (retail) decisions. While my manager is away in Germany learning how to oppress people, I'm enjoying my free visual range over my little store in SoHo. Being a merchant, merchandiser, visual, whatever you want to call it... it's definitely a strange avenue to pursue. Taking control of how merchandise looks visually means taking ownership of ideals that appeal to other people while still owning it and making it look like you. I think if you walked into my store and looked at the floorset we've done while in my manager's absence you'd know I had more than just a hand in the mix. And I think running things like this are seeming less and less like tasks and more like things I was built to do. My ability to make merchandise appeal to the masses is topped only by my almost instantaneous ability to come up with solutions for any number of obstacles that get thrown in my path. I think that's my stream of consciousness manifesting itself physically. That said, I don't think I will ever understand Sudoku. Stop getting me to try.

Ryan couldn't resist (or maybe he saw how excited/anxious I was) and he gave my my first Christmas gift early. A glistening Xbox 360. I am currently siding with Microsoft during this console war, so this gift was more than appreciated. I have had it in my grasp for almost a week and I am still beyond excited every time I turn it on. You can hook your ipod up to the USB port and the game background music disappears while the tracks you pick on your ipod start up to take their place. Fantastic. The gamer in me has awoken from his near-death coma and he wants to play Puzzle fighter. Expect me to post about games here and there as I assure you I will be playing my thumbs down to their bones.

For some reason I seem to be hyper aware of people judging me this month. I make playlists on my ipod that change every month. Last month my running theme was irony; the month before it was pestilence. This month I'm trying to listen to stuff that's upbeat and morose, because everything has to be poignant and I am nothing without my agendas! Nothing! That said, I find that when I play music out loud someone near me is always being critical. It's too upbeat or it's too sad. It's too instrumental or it's lyrics are overbearing. If I were the kind of person to fake giving everyone who opposes him the finger in his blog but never really addresses it in real life I'm certain I would do that right about now. But since that's not my style I will continue to keep my feelings of hatred for my uncultured peers silent and let my glass-like stares and inaudible disappointment speak the volumes they are capable of speaking. In situations like this I try not to judge people because if I hate anything it's when people judge me.

Which leads me into my next paragraph. If I were the kind of person to label each one of his paragraphs with someone trite, contrived, AND inane I'm certain I would do that right now. But since I haven't labeled my paragraphs since I had angst spilling out of a spigot in my spine 8 or 9 years ago, I'll leave you to name it on your own. People are always brushing off their soap boxes and speaking out against the hipster movement. I wish I had a megaphone for every box I come across, because holding your ground against any growing or dwindling subculture of young people is idiotic. People throw around the term hipster to refer to alternative gay guys and lesbians, or people who like to craft. Those of us who appreciate music and film, and those of us who create music and film. The "sensitive" straight man and his counterpart, the "driven" straight women. If you are caught in possession of skinny jeans and ANY BOOK IN THE UNIVERSE surprise! You're a hipster. Try and control and part of your destiny and you sir/ma'am are a hipster. It seems that veering to the left or right from classical culture, societal, and gender norms means you're this new breed of young person who counters every aspect of culture that anyone has ever seen. It's not as if this sort of thing has been happening since the beginning of cultural identities. Wait, it has. It happens everywhere, to everyone who, before, during, and after every generation sees it's power come into fruition. What is youth without trying to outgrow old ways; or adapt them in the ways we see fit, at least. It's weird to me that this is some phenomenon sweeping the nation, and people feel free to openly make fun of me as though I am some pillar of cultural change, when a few years ago it was razor haircuts and mascara (make no mention of fallout boy, afi, or panic at the disco, please), and before that you'd be hard pressed to walk 4 blocks in any direction without finding someone wearing a red plaid shirt with food bits stuck in their hair and complacency oozing from their pores. I know I am obviously gliding over this subject, barely skimming the surface of an issue that needn't be an issue, but I wish people would understand what it is to be a person and how/why young people are always changing for better or for worse; and how this "movement" isn't any more special than movements in the past.

Only I think young people are looking a lot cuter these days. I'm glad one of the "hipster" focuses is fashion and not something stupid like period Italian statues or trying to be friendly. I'm going to go put on my cowboy boots and walk in circles. My disdain meter is running low and I need a boost.

AH, speaking of boosts. I went to Jamba Juice once and asked for a Crystal Meth boost. I was the only person in line who laughed. I hate this city.

mini-post

2007-12-03T18:23:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a very long time. But I have a good one brewing in the back of my head. I'm off to work an overnight, so some time tomorrow afternoon my post will come into fruition. I need an iPhone so I can blog on the go. Who will donate to me bettering myself?

holidays

2007-11-24T09:42:00.000-05:00

So, it's the holiday season.

While I do enjoy the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I can't ignore that lingering feeling of dread that pounds away at the top of my spinal cord. You never know exactly what you're getting into when family congregates, so on my way home to Long Island I spent the train ride assembling my family deflector and arming myself to the teeth with insults (ones that I would never speak out loud, of course, but I would certainly repeat to myself inside of my head).

So I was surprised to find out that the only thing that needed to be deflected was my bad attitude and my unwillingness to recognize that people are able to change. Of course, this is a cycle that repeats itself as each year drops several celebrated holidays in my lap, but it's always a shock how much more accepting people can be.

Like most everyone I know, I used to feel like an outsider when I was in the company of my family. Like I was kind of just there because my mom had given birth to me, not because I was a part of this bloodline. I think that keeping my sexuality quiet for so long (it was known an not discussed; the way good roman catholics do everything) urged me along in these feelings of isolation. I always felt like I had a secret that kept me miles away from everyone else I was related to because the few remarks about being gay i heard from my brother and my father, and neither one of them was a pillar of positive energy. I remember wearing my sexuality on my sleeve when I got to college because I could invent myself in whatever fashion I saw fit. But now that my being an adult is a reality we've all abandoned whatever stigma it was that kept us from knowing one another in the past.

The holidays are the holidays are the holidays. I understand. But it's always surprising when people AND things change. I've always known that my mom loved me, of course. But I didn't know she carried a picture of me as a child in her wallet and showed it to her friends/co-workers-family members on occasion. That means a lot. She also gave me her mother's casserole dish so I can make my very own macaroni & cheese in it.

This post isn't too clever or witty. BUT it's thanksgiving. Give a girl some credit.

r.e.v.l.u.s.i.o.n.

2007-11-15T18:08:00.000-05:00

Another post!

I need to update this blog as much as I tell myself I'm going to update this blog. It's pretty much a daily thing that i go back and forth with and for whatever undisclosed reason I can't. I don't know if it's the newness of it all or if it's me secretly trying to suppress myself. I know there are things that go on during my day-to-day life that I think are just so darn clever that I should blog them, but something stops me before I get the chance. I once told a co-worker that another co-worker was a "perfectly good waste of thick ankles" and that "any other pear-shaped woman would consider herself lucky to have them" in her place. SEE! Is that not screaming blog me? I think it is.

I think that the particular subculture I live and grow thrives on disappointment in some sick and familiar self-involved and necessary way. I'm going to focus on work for the time being because I know more people who are unhappy with their work than I know people. I feel like we are unjustly judged by ourselves and our peers on levels that radically alter exactly who we are and how we relate to one another and ourselves. And I use the term "we" loosely, because I expect it to include anyone who finds that at any given moment of any given time they are like me in any particular way. Different in a way that feels so singular, but is obviously large enough for a subculture to be built from it. Those of us who have sweat it out in tiny basements dancing along to saves the day, or done our time selling merch at some shitty d.i.y. show. Those of us who ALMOST shed a tear when the get up kids broke up (but would totally deny it today, of course) and now find solace in anything acoustic, electric, or overly simplified (read: a girl [without shoes], a guitar [with three strings], and a half-broken amp that hums louder than it transmits; or the infinite intricacies of the fashion world, the importance of an animal pendant, or how a simple pair of leggings can define an entire wardrobe) and now spend our time wishing we were after greater things in life, wearing tiny coats and shiny shoes, skipping cracks and inhaling carcinogens in this gloomy borough of ours. Brooklyn at it's finest and highest/lowest points. It's difficult to define something that is so all-inclusive, but I sure took a stab at it. If you find something else I didn't include, leave me a comment and I'm half sure I'll make amendments.

There are so many times throughout my workday when I wonder why, exactly, I'm still sticking it out at a seemingly dead-end job, merchandising mouse leather purses and plastic argyle sweaters for people who still think Rod Stewart is sexy, sought after, and... alive. I know I'm better than the spring green corduroy pants I shuddered at when I walked into work this morning so why am I still there? I think it's because I know I'm safe underwhelming myself; but I wish it didn't take so long for me to make a move in the right direction. Every time I reach for something the idea of a potential devastation simmers me down, and I go back to my own personal day-to-day-mini-devastation because it's so easy. I need for ease to be a thing of the past and for challenges to seem like they aren't so massive; otherwise I know I'll spend the next few years wholly regretting the last few months. Sometimes I curse the fact that I went to school for an art form, because if I'm not creating something stellar I feel like I'm just pedaling on a stationary bike.

So, what to do? This particular necessary disappointment is wearing out it's welcome and I know that sooner than later I will claw out the eyes of a co-worker, customer, or maybe even myself. And when I ride the subway home and see the lifeless glaze over my eyes echoed back at me from every other Kyle riding the train, I begin to wonder what went wrong with all of us and what our revolutions will be like when we take over our own mini-worlds.

----

SO what do I find out as I am typing this post? My boyfriend just got promoted at work. Just now! Reading my blog is the new reality TV. Seriously.

#2

2007-11-08T16:42:00.000-05:00

SO this is my second post. I've yet to go public with this blog. It probably has to do with some deep-seated feeling of rejection or my anxiousness at being thrust up on to a pedestal into a mock limelight, wherein I am the most celebrated celebrity in my own one-man world. Nevertheless, here I am. If you haven't noticed already I've acquired a penchant for run-on sentences. I feel like run-ons are textual extensions of the fingertips and my writing style is more free flowing; so don't get all up in arms when your mind isn't allowed to take a breath because mine sure isn't either.

That aside, I just got home from working from 6am-4pm and boy am I tired. I originally planned on napping, but the internet called out to me. So, here I am.

I spend a lot of my time watching courtTV and the sci fi channel (see also: the food network, tlc, discovery health). I'm watching forensic files right now. I think my want to understand things is trumped only by my love of being mystified. I love to wonder if something is or isn't real or if something that seems so great is really within grasp (ie: ghosts, cooking).

Anyway, it's holiday time. If you work or worked in retail like I do, you know this is a most hellish time of year. I had to physically slap a customer's hand today because he had the nerve to push me in order to reach a sweater. It is never serious enough to push me out of your way. I am moderately large and decently muscled, I'd hate to have to beat someone to death over a nylon/polyurethane sweater that costs 39.50. Not over a poly-blend that will likely catch fire when either you or one of your bargain-hungry gaggle gets a sleeve thread caught in the escalator at forever 21 resulting in a salmon-colored sweater brushfire.

But for every shitasshead customer, there is some sort of silver lining. Me and my boyfriend (this certainly won't be the last time i mention him in this blog) are figuring out holiday things. Gifts, trees, decorations, ornaments. The gamer in me is aching for an Xbox360 so we'll see if that pans out. There are a myriad of gift ideas I have floating around in my head, but I tend to think in terms of me when I'm buying gifts for others, and the "dude" that exists in the back and sometimes front of my head really wants to buy something that will make me giggle, but I know those gifts will result in menacing glares, so I'll do my best to avoid any gift that begins with "the best" and "the most".

I would like to keep up with this writing thing, so I'm going to try to post as often as my little fingers permit. Should you take a liking to my little blog let me know! It will make my littler (even smaller than my fingers!) heart swell to enormous proportions and that joy will spill over into these posts and nothing bad will ever happen again! In my next post I think I'm going to talk about my love of fruit flavored yogurts and the ensuing hilarity. bye!

#1

2007-11-03T02:48:00.000-04:00

Hi Blog

So this is my first entry.

Hello, my name is Kyle and I am a Blipster. I have coined this phrase (and built this blog) because I feel there is an under represented, often ignored, and utterly fantastic subculture of peoples that need a voice more than you know. And who better to speak out and up for them than me? Nobody. That’s right, nobody indeed.

Well, what is a blipster? It is, in essence, the most fantastic oxymoron known to man. More majestic than the volcanoes of Kilimanjaro; more elusive than the murderous Irukandji, and more fantastic than Britney’s comeback album. And there are issues we blipsters need to discuss; tyra banks, africa, oprah, rihanna, welfare, reparations, apartheid, etc.

I am starting this blog because I feel like it’s the right thing to do. There are things in me that I know need to be expressed and it’s about time that I started expressing them. While I assure you most of my posts will be rich with exquisite wit and tricky verbiage; and most of my subtle nuances about race will neither be subtle nor nuances, I’ll salt pepper my posts with something real and insightful every now and again.

I am very much aware of what my musings may or may not mean to whoever happens upon this blog (Read: insightful), so should my posts become so trite and contrived that you mysteriously come back into consciousness on n7th & bedford, do not be alarmed. I took you there intentionally and I hope we can meet up, hold hands, and laugh our way back home.