i and love and you.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Well then...

Goodnight.

life lessons.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

[insert incredulous sigh]
life.

easter on the island of long.

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

If Pink and Rachel Ray had a baby...

I went skiing!

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

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

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