Once again, I have taken a few weeks off and am feeling remorseful. Kind of like the guy who said he'd call and never did. Maybe he meant to call, but now it’s been too long and the window of opportunity has passed. Right now, I’m that guy.
For days, I had a certain song trapped in my head. This is my attempt at an exorcism.
Desperation – Why, oh, why are there ants in my apartment? Where are they from? Seriously. Last summer, they were there every so often. This summer, they seemed to have made it their home. It is unnerving. I have sprayed the baseboards with Raid – the 30-Day kind. I don’t leave food out, but still I see them. 1 in the living room. 1 in the bathroom. 1 on my bedroom floor. 2 even came to work with me last week. I am irked. I am also wondering what the building exterminator that visited and worked on every apartment 2 weeks ago did, because, whatever it was, it didn’t work.
Dislocation - What’s with the waving? I worked at the bar all weekend and was subjected to people in groups constantly waving to get my attention. Usually, waving to me while I was A) in the middle of serving 5 other customers, B) in the middle of doing every dish in the bar or C) carrying cases of beers to re-stock the coolers. At no point was I standing around eating bonbons. At no point was I standing around drinking a beer, which is what the other bartender was doing. Which exacerbates the situation a bit more…why weren’t they waving at him?
Separation – I worked on Saturday afternoon and therefore missed being with my sister on her birthday. I worked Friday night and missed calling her at midnight. She missed being home to sign for her present on Friday. All in all, I just missed her this weekend! Hope that she had a wonderful birthday!
Condemnation – The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results. Sometimes, in the dating ring, I think we forget that.
Side note, I remember being a 20-something and dating the 30-year olds. Why is it now that I am a 30-year old, I am perplexed that the guys my age are dating the 20-somethings? It seems like the proverbial “what goes around comes around.” And since the 40-year olds seem to be dating the 20-year olds too, why can’t I go for the 20-something guy? I mean if Demi did it, why can’t I?
Revelation – As of July 2008, I will be the last one standing -- the last un-married person on either side of my family. (Well, at least until 2 of my cousins finalize their divorces). It is a little daunting. If you had asked me at 10 or at 23 if I would be on the verge of the 10th Anniversary of my 21st birthday and still not married, I would’ve emphatically disagreed. And yet, here I stand. Part of me really wants to be married and part of me is glad that I haven’t settled yet. My sister teases me about my late nights and crazy stories and tells me that I am regressing a bit. That may be true, but I would easily trade a late night of drinking for a movie and a walk for ice cream. I just don’t think I am willing to settle for just anything.
I want the crazy relationship my parents have. Where they have a date night on Saturdays and spend a lovely Sunday afternoon at Costco. Where the little weirdo things my mom does makes my dad just shrug and smile a bit and say, “yep, that list-writing, slightly (well, really totally) anal-retentive, kind of bossy, completely lovely lady is my wife.” Where the little weirdo things that my dad does makes my mom just shrug a bit and say, “yep, that guy wearing a dirty baseball hat, napping in the chair, snoring louder than a chainsaw, completely caring guy is my husband.” I don’t believe in a lot of dating rules. I think if you like someone you tell them. There shouldn't be a strict protocol for things. I don’t believe in telling someone how they should or should not act. I don’t believe in molding someone into what I want them to be. I do believe in finding the person that will be my partner-in-crime and my best friend. And until then, this cheese stands alone.
In Temptation – Sometimes, I just want to do the wrong thing. Kiss the wrong person. Go after the wrong guy. Go out on a work night and stay out too late and call in sick. Every now and then, I want to stir up some trouble.
Isolation – Being single in the city is fun, until your toilet decides to flood your bathroom. And you are mopping the bathroom mostly not dressed. And you are buying a plunger, because you can’t imagine that you don’t own one. (Actually, Tom came along for that part, and it was nice to have some company.) And you are plunging the toilet hoping to holy hell you know what you are doing. And then you have fixed the problem and there is no one there to celebrate the mini-victory.
Desolation – It seems that though we keep getting rain, my plants aren’t benefiting. If I forget to water them just 1 day, they get limp and mopey. I missed a few days last week and my cilantro looked thoroughly depressed. It’s hard to cultivate foliage. I mean, heck, I don’t remember to drink enough water for myself.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
I just wanna say something worthwhile
Writer's block has been prohibiting me from posting the last few days. It seems that my head has been filled with everything and nothing. Rather than go missing again, I made the executive decision to post a few random things that I have been thinking.
Almost a week ago, Mr. Wizard died. My desire to craft a fitting tribute to the man who essentially fostered my love of science seems to have been the start of my writer's block. I couldn't find the right words.
When I was little, science was my thing. I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to conduct experiments. I wanted to invent things. I loved it all.
Mr. Wizard's show fueled that passion. He took science and made it reachable for me. He made it easy to understand and fascinating to learn. I wanted to be one of the kids on the show conducting experiments with him. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
And so, when I heard of his passing, I was saddened. He was truly a teacher to many and he will be missed.
Other random things...
* I started watching Sex in the City reruns again, mostly because I miss it. I miss its intelligence, brashness and relatability. Because, while the characters may have been to the extreme at times, every woman can say she has a little Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda in them.
* A hula-hoop, swim goggles, water wings and a stoop can make for a perfectly acceptable (if not completely fun) Saturday night.
* How is it that one of my closest friend's in college had another baby (well, he didn't, but his wife did) and I missed the entire pregnancy? Why do I feel like I can never keep up? (And on that note, congratulations Tom and Amie - he is absolutely beautiful)!
* Speaking of never keeping up, why do I always have dishes in my sink - though I swear I am not home enough to cook, clothes on my bathroom floor and books strewn everywhere? (Not to mention a broken TV in my living room that has been there for 8 months). I am so cluttery.
* Finally, my friend from high school writes fantastic reviews of the music world and he joined the blogging scene a while ago. (And in keeping me my falling behind theme, I have been meaning to link to him for ages). That being said, I am added him to my links: http://the-screen-door.blogspot.com/. I know you will all enjoy it!
Almost a week ago, Mr. Wizard died. My desire to craft a fitting tribute to the man who essentially fostered my love of science seems to have been the start of my writer's block. I couldn't find the right words.
When I was little, science was my thing. I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to conduct experiments. I wanted to invent things. I loved it all.
Mr. Wizard's show fueled that passion. He took science and made it reachable for me. He made it easy to understand and fascinating to learn. I wanted to be one of the kids on the show conducting experiments with him. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
And so, when I heard of his passing, I was saddened. He was truly a teacher to many and he will be missed.
Other random things...
* I started watching Sex in the City reruns again, mostly because I miss it. I miss its intelligence, brashness and relatability. Because, while the characters may have been to the extreme at times, every woman can say she has a little Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda in them.
* A hula-hoop, swim goggles, water wings and a stoop can make for a perfectly acceptable (if not completely fun) Saturday night.
* How is it that one of my closest friend's in college had another baby (well, he didn't, but his wife did) and I missed the entire pregnancy? Why do I feel like I can never keep up? (And on that note, congratulations Tom and Amie - he is absolutely beautiful)!
* Speaking of never keeping up, why do I always have dishes in my sink - though I swear I am not home enough to cook, clothes on my bathroom floor and books strewn everywhere? (Not to mention a broken TV in my living room that has been there for 8 months). I am so cluttery.
* Finally, my friend from high school writes fantastic reviews of the music world and he joined the blogging scene a while ago. (And in keeping me my falling behind theme, I have been meaning to link to him for ages). That being said, I am added him to my links: http://the-screen-door.blogspot.com/. I know you will all enjoy it!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Frak That
I am a messy girl. I would like to believe that I have a place for everything and I think I do, but like my mind, my apartment is a bit cluttered. Still, if something was moved, I would know it. My chaos has some semblance of order.
My sister is the yin to my yang (or the Frick to my Frak as my Dad used to call us). She is neat and orderly; organized and detailed; a planner and a saver. So, when she came home at lunch for a ham sandwich (as opposed to me who was probably eating out again) and to load her dishwasher (we won't even talk about my dishes) and saw her front window missing, she knew something was wrong.
She called her fiancé and the police and they all entered the apartment together and confirmed her fears - she had been robbed. The perpetrator was slow and methodical. He (sorry for the sexist assumption) rifled through her dresser drawers, her jewelry box and even her refrigerator.
He stole her digital camera with her Mother's Day photos still on it, her DVD player, all her movies, her Ipod, her jewelry, some clothes and her beer. To add insult to injury, he used her luggage to take out his haul.
I go on record as saying I hate this guy. I hate him for violating her home. I hate him for invading her life like this and taking away her security. I hate the 500 miles that separated us and made me unable to reach out and hug her when she told me the story. I hate that I can’t protect her and spare her from this.
Now, my sister will be the first to read this and get mad at me. She will protest my view of her and for the millionth time, remind met that is 27, has lived on her own for 9 years and that she is engaged. I know all this. Sometimes, I think she is more of a grown up than I am. She has handled this with the intelligence, grace and beauty that she possess and with which constantly amazes me. And yet as her big sister (chronologically), I want to beat up the bully that did this to her, hug her and take her for an ice cream.
My sister is the yin to my yang (or the Frick to my Frak as my Dad used to call us). She is neat and orderly; organized and detailed; a planner and a saver. So, when she came home at lunch for a ham sandwich (as opposed to me who was probably eating out again) and to load her dishwasher (we won't even talk about my dishes) and saw her front window missing, she knew something was wrong.
She called her fiancé and the police and they all entered the apartment together and confirmed her fears - she had been robbed. The perpetrator was slow and methodical. He (sorry for the sexist assumption) rifled through her dresser drawers, her jewelry box and even her refrigerator.
He stole her digital camera with her Mother's Day photos still on it, her DVD player, all her movies, her Ipod, her jewelry, some clothes and her beer. To add insult to injury, he used her luggage to take out his haul.
I go on record as saying I hate this guy. I hate him for violating her home. I hate him for invading her life like this and taking away her security. I hate the 500 miles that separated us and made me unable to reach out and hug her when she told me the story. I hate that I can’t protect her and spare her from this.
Now, my sister will be the first to read this and get mad at me. She will protest my view of her and for the millionth time, remind met that is 27, has lived on her own for 9 years and that she is engaged. I know all this. Sometimes, I think she is more of a grown up than I am. She has handled this with the intelligence, grace and beauty that she possess and with which constantly amazes me. And yet as her big sister (chronologically), I want to beat up the bully that did this to her, hug her and take her for an ice cream.
Folsom Prison Blues
I have a million things to say about a million things from the last few weeks and I will get to all of them soon. However, I thought that I would comment on a little 'celebutante' (who knew that was a word) known as Miss. Paris Hilton.
Today, "A judge has ordered Paris Hilton returned to jail and she was taken from court screaming." (from www.nbc5.com)
Before I continue, I state the following:
1) I am not jealous of Paris Hilton – I think she is vacuous, wasteful and oblivious to the world around her.
2) I do not wish to be Paris Hilton – While I would like her $$, I couldn’t stand living such an unfulfilled life.
I find Paris Hilton to be the annoying faux-celebrity that just doesn’t go away. She offers nothing important to society – except for her advocacy of small dogs and weird pets. She has all the money in the world and she does nothing to make it a better place. Imagine if Paris sent her clothing budget for a year to help in the Sudan or Darfur or for a woman’s shelter or for a soup kitchen. Imagine what she could do if she attempted to be a contributing member of society. But she doesn’t even try. Instead, she lives “The Simple Life.”
Now, most days, I wouldn’t even bother with a Paris Hilton. I don’t look for her on a red carpet. I don’t watch her and Nicole make fun of local people who work for a living. I don’t even want to stay in a Hilton anymore. Most days, I don’t even care what she does. Except for the days when she breaks the law. Because, here’s the thing, money doesn’t put you above the law. Just ask Michael Jackson, Robert Downey Jr., Ken Lay, Jeff Skilling, Martha Stewart, etc… The only thing that money buys you is a good defense team.
I thought that it was great that a judge sentenced her to prison. Not because the little pampered girl was going to have to eat turkey-bologna on white for lunch (though, admittedly, that was an added bonus), but the sentence was appropriate to the infraction.
And let me side note for a quick second and ask this: Why the hell does the Hilton heiress ever find cause to drive drunk? You have billions! Hire a driver! Rent a helicopter! Hell, take a damn taxi! But, she didn’t. More than once, she didn’t. And because she didn’t, she found herself getting sentenced to 45-days in prison. (Personally, I think her mom should’ve joined her, given her completely disrespectful outbursts within the courtroom. Like mother, like daughter, I guess).
Let’s be honest, 45 days in prison sucks, but it is only 45 days. And really, she only had to do half of it. And when she was done, she could return to her vacuous life and have a great story to tell all the girls at the club. I think had she served her time Martha-style, we would’ve all gained a smidge of respect for the girl. Instead, she faked a cramp (I am only speculating) and got the sheriff to send her home early – 20 days early. Much to the chagrin of the judge who sentenced her.
Which brings us to this morning’s shenanigans in the courtroom, culminating in Paris getting led out, kicking and screaming her way back to prison.
Part of me feels bad for her, because nothing in her life has prepared her for this. Part of me wonders (thanks to my lovely, empathetic and sweet sister), whether this isn’t an over-punishment. Part of me is glad that a judge treated her like any other person. All of me hopes that there is a moral to this story.
Today, "A judge has ordered Paris Hilton returned to jail and she was taken from court screaming." (from www.nbc5.com)
Before I continue, I state the following:
1) I am not jealous of Paris Hilton – I think she is vacuous, wasteful and oblivious to the world around her.
2) I do not wish to be Paris Hilton – While I would like her $$, I couldn’t stand living such an unfulfilled life.
I find Paris Hilton to be the annoying faux-celebrity that just doesn’t go away. She offers nothing important to society – except for her advocacy of small dogs and weird pets. She has all the money in the world and she does nothing to make it a better place. Imagine if Paris sent her clothing budget for a year to help in the Sudan or Darfur or for a woman’s shelter or for a soup kitchen. Imagine what she could do if she attempted to be a contributing member of society. But she doesn’t even try. Instead, she lives “The Simple Life.”
Now, most days, I wouldn’t even bother with a Paris Hilton. I don’t look for her on a red carpet. I don’t watch her and Nicole make fun of local people who work for a living. I don’t even want to stay in a Hilton anymore. Most days, I don’t even care what she does. Except for the days when she breaks the law. Because, here’s the thing, money doesn’t put you above the law. Just ask Michael Jackson, Robert Downey Jr., Ken Lay, Jeff Skilling, Martha Stewart, etc… The only thing that money buys you is a good defense team.
I thought that it was great that a judge sentenced her to prison. Not because the little pampered girl was going to have to eat turkey-bologna on white for lunch (though, admittedly, that was an added bonus), but the sentence was appropriate to the infraction.
And let me side note for a quick second and ask this: Why the hell does the Hilton heiress ever find cause to drive drunk? You have billions! Hire a driver! Rent a helicopter! Hell, take a damn taxi! But, she didn’t. More than once, she didn’t. And because she didn’t, she found herself getting sentenced to 45-days in prison. (Personally, I think her mom should’ve joined her, given her completely disrespectful outbursts within the courtroom. Like mother, like daughter, I guess).
Let’s be honest, 45 days in prison sucks, but it is only 45 days. And really, she only had to do half of it. And when she was done, she could return to her vacuous life and have a great story to tell all the girls at the club. I think had she served her time Martha-style, we would’ve all gained a smidge of respect for the girl. Instead, she faked a cramp (I am only speculating) and got the sheriff to send her home early – 20 days early. Much to the chagrin of the judge who sentenced her.
Which brings us to this morning’s shenanigans in the courtroom, culminating in Paris getting led out, kicking and screaming her way back to prison.
Part of me feels bad for her, because nothing in her life has prepared her for this. Part of me wonders (thanks to my lovely, empathetic and sweet sister), whether this isn’t an over-punishment. Part of me is glad that a judge treated her like any other person. All of me hopes that there is a moral to this story.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
On the right side of life...
Several years ago, I was looking for a new apartment. It was to be my first one-bedroom and I was looking for a diamond in the rough, as much as I was looking forward to the possibility of no roommates. I searched high and low for a new apartment and finally found what I was looking for (shameless U2 reference, sorry).
After viewing the place and gathering the paperwork, I walked back to my car. I called my friend Tif to tell her all about my potential new home. As I walked around to the driver's side to get into my car, I realized that a huge chunk of my front end was missing. It seems that my parked car was the unfortunate victim of a clipping violation called on a rental truck. I was lucky that the driver of the truck left a note. Believe me, that is a rarity. I took some pics of the car (my dad made me, just in case) and called the number on the note.
The gentleman who hit my car was shocked that I wasn't angry. I told him, there wasn't any point to getting mad. The car was already damaged. I was just grateful that the person who hit the car was honest and left a note. He was surprised by my reaction. Which is sad. Why do we let ourselves worry, get frustrated and angry over things that have happened or those things that are out of our control? What good does it bring?
In that regard, what do you do when you sleep through your alarm and miss your flight? A flight destined for sunnier climates, relaxation and fun with friends? And the standby list is long? And you waited in the airport for nothing? And your luggage is en route on the vacation you are supposed to be taking, because it didn't have to fly standby? Get angry? Why? Its too late to change the course of the day? I say embrace the hilarity of it all and move forward. Don't let the anger hold you back.
Kudos to T. for doing just that. In the face of a vacation missed, he came up with these little bits of joy...
1) I have a $299 travel voucher. (Sucks that I had to pay $399 to get it…)
2) Long Term parking only cost me $6. (This almost cancels my loss on the travel voucher)
3) I will not be discovered by a Hollywood agent and let success go to my head.
4) I will not break my neck surfing; Probably wasn't going to surf, but now I can guarantee I won't.
5) I get to watch the Bulls tonight and the hockey game on Saturday and Monday.
6) My luggage is going on a great trip to the left coast. I hope it hooks up with a hot samsonite!
On a side note, upon returning home, T. realized that he had left his deodorant, gel and razor at home. So, he also gets to smell good and be clean-shaven this weekend as well. Which is another plus – at least for all of his friends.
Here’s to a weekend filled with the little bits of joy that make it all worthwhile.
After viewing the place and gathering the paperwork, I walked back to my car. I called my friend Tif to tell her all about my potential new home. As I walked around to the driver's side to get into my car, I realized that a huge chunk of my front end was missing. It seems that my parked car was the unfortunate victim of a clipping violation called on a rental truck. I was lucky that the driver of the truck left a note. Believe me, that is a rarity. I took some pics of the car (my dad made me, just in case) and called the number on the note.
The gentleman who hit my car was shocked that I wasn't angry. I told him, there wasn't any point to getting mad. The car was already damaged. I was just grateful that the person who hit the car was honest and left a note. He was surprised by my reaction. Which is sad. Why do we let ourselves worry, get frustrated and angry over things that have happened or those things that are out of our control? What good does it bring?
In that regard, what do you do when you sleep through your alarm and miss your flight? A flight destined for sunnier climates, relaxation and fun with friends? And the standby list is long? And you waited in the airport for nothing? And your luggage is en route on the vacation you are supposed to be taking, because it didn't have to fly standby? Get angry? Why? Its too late to change the course of the day? I say embrace the hilarity of it all and move forward. Don't let the anger hold you back.
Kudos to T. for doing just that. In the face of a vacation missed, he came up with these little bits of joy...
1) I have a $299 travel voucher. (Sucks that I had to pay $399 to get it…)
2) Long Term parking only cost me $6. (This almost cancels my loss on the travel voucher)
3) I will not be discovered by a Hollywood agent and let success go to my head.
4) I will not break my neck surfing; Probably wasn't going to surf, but now I can guarantee I won't.
5) I get to watch the Bulls tonight and the hockey game on Saturday and Monday.
6) My luggage is going on a great trip to the left coast. I hope it hooks up with a hot samsonite!
On a side note, upon returning home, T. realized that he had left his deodorant, gel and razor at home. So, he also gets to smell good and be clean-shaven this weekend as well. Which is another plus – at least for all of his friends.
Here’s to a weekend filled with the little bits of joy that make it all worthwhile.
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