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I just looked in the mirror, and things are lookin' so good-- I'm lookin' California and feelin' Minnesota 6/14/04

Tonight I went swimming on my way home from work.

When I got home I was having a hard time pulling my body along the sidewalk, those last few blocks. From what I could feel, all my organs, bones, muscles, blood had turned into stones, rocks, heavy solid weights-- my skin barely able to keep it all together in body-form. I feared with each step that I wouldn't be able to pull the next leg forward, or that one of my heavy stoney arms might drop off from the jolt of movement.

By the time I was inside, I expected to look in the mirror and see the rough edges of the rocks poking through my skin all over.
But my image was the same as always, even better with some sun-tanned skin.

6/12/04

This is rich, people. Saturday night. Around 9pm I found myself suddenly with my anticipated evening cancelled. I was out of milk and toilet paper, but I realized another date with Shoprite wasn't going to do anything for my mood. And as they say, if you want different, then do different,

So instead of toilet paper I went out for spontaneous nocturnal socializing. I feel young again. Young and stupid. What could be better?

in the blue 6/11/04

Guess what, I just spent my friday night at the Jersey City Shoprite.
That's two weekends in a row that I had a date with a bunch of yellow plastic bags.

Yellow Plastic Bags.

I'm livin' large, people.

But it's calm under the waves.

belly ache 6/7/04

I actually have re-written today's ramble 6 separate times. But each version sounds pissed off & pathetic.

breakfast club 6/5/04

And how would you guess a 30 year old single hot female New Yorker spent her Saturday night? At about 11pm I said "great!" and hung up the phone, slipped on shoes, grabbed my bag and dashed out the door.

After a 5 minute walk I reached my destination-- I breezed throught the doors and then sighed. ShopRite of Jersey City. Yes, the place that I have called the Bane of My Existence in previous rambles. The lowest-scale ShopRite in existence. It's practically a C-town with better lighting.

Let me tell you, there were about 16 people total in the entire store, including employees. I saw 4 or 5 other singleton shoppers. They looked my age, and equally as thrilled to be there, proclaiming loser status late on a saturday night.

I also saw 3 couples. All three were holding hands. Why? Were they so afraid of being mistaken for a loser? Did they think it was okay to shop at 11pm on a weekend just because they had a "date" with them? These couples were also smiling. Maybe it was the 7th date-- the first date-turned-domestic where they think buying toilet paper together is cute.

After I paid, the cashier said "Enjoy your night," as I picked up my shopping bags of household products and sorbet.
Yeah, I'm going to have a rockin' night. Here in this yellow plastic lie the keys to the rest of my night and weekend; I'm thrilled, thanks.
Who wouldn't have a great night with toilet bowl scrub and haagen daz?!? Bitch.

different 5/25/04

There is something different. It's hard to even identify, but it's everywhere, like a glitch in the Matrix. I don't know the cause, but I can feel the result spilling all over-- especially in my eyes, and somewhat in my mouth & nose.
Of course there is hardly productivity in wiping it away, because there is a steady stream pouring out & on & in. So I started wiping fast and in brief glimpses, I looked for the source. It's remained out of sight & reach though. It's frustrating, and eventually you stop looking, and, in fact, just roll around in it.

Troy 5/21/04

Dear Brad Pitt,

Thank you.

On behalf of all movie-going women everywhere.

We thank you.

little salamander, where did you go? 5/19/04

What is with this wackass weather? I'm at the end of my fraying rope, people.

Forget the weather, what's with the shitstorm going on nextdoor. Pack your bags lady, I can hear his B.S. through the walls. Get out of that trap. Don't let him convince you that he's your only option, there is a world out there, and ANY fish or NO fish is better than the rotting carcass of flounder you've got in that apartment. You're better than that for christsake. I am on the verge of grabbing your neck and pulling you out of there myself, packing your bags for you. It's like he sewed your eyes shut. I'll cut them open.

Vous-etes belle 5/14/04

Almost every morning, the first words I hear from another human are "Hello, Beautiful." This from someone I do business with. Is it sexual harrassment? I've never heard him greet any male that way. Although maybe I should listen harder. But I doubt it. What is appropriate and what isn't? It's technically sexual since he would not say it to a male. And it's unwanted. AND it does make me feel uncomfortable, which is what makes it harrassment. Uncomfortable ... not because the business transaction is made contingent upon favors, but because I think he's mocking me. It's like calling a big fat guy "tiny" as a nickname.

So nearly every morning I start my day by hearing this guy and then thinking "bite me, you jackass."

3 days and 17 hours 5/11/04

That's how long since the last cigarette. I know, you didn't realize I was smoking again. Fear not, it was only for about 4 weeks total. Just until my exam date. But even with only 30 packs of nicotene in me, it's still pretty fucking hard to quit.

And quitting sure does make me violently irritable.

Watch out.

Bonne Reves 5/10/04

I slept like a log, and my lungs feel calm and clearing.

I received an email mentioning an upcoming christening I will be invited to. That reminds me that I still haven't RSVP'd about another social gathering that is coming up.

I want to be present at both events, I love the people being celebrated. But the celebrations themselves involve me milling around in a large room of people that I don't (or hardly) know, in some cases people who don't like me or vice versa. I fucking hate that.

Maybe I can round up a few hermit crabs and bring them in my purse. Worse comes to worst, I could pull out a few bloody fingers and say "Woe! Sorry, I've got to go."

Happy Mother's Day 5/9/04

Just before I fall asleep I place one foot under my other knee. My mind settles onto whatever part of me currently aches.

When I first wake up I try to figure out what was a dream and what is still real. This is sometimes relieving, sometimes disappointing.

The dreams that are the most pleasurable to experience-- I hate myself for allowing them to continue beyond 5 seconds. The dreams that are unpleasant or strange, those are fun and easy to translate. And often the thoughts in my mind immediately before slumber tend to form into a story in my sleep.

A thought in my mind tonight is that Mom, during Mom's Day brunch, mentioned that she thought [certain people] lead empty lives.
It was a category of people that I fall into.
How will that end up in a dream?

Come Rain or Come Shine 4/29/04

To keep one's mouth shut or not? I guess I tend not to. If I see someone about to slip & fall I want to yell "OPEN YOUR EYES, FRUITCAKE."

Spring, for the love of god, is trying to head-butt it's way into town. Open the gates, lay out the rose petals, and let her in!

I'll ignore that today Suterius said "Seventy Five" but it's only 63 degrees. Never mind that. Never mind my bare legs covered with goose bumps so I look like a freshly peeled & plucked chicken.

Thirty Three 4/19/04

Dear Suterius Johnson,

You must have said "very warm" about 15 times this morning on the radio. No less than 15 times. Eighty Seven degrees is not "very warm", my dear.

Perhaps you are, yet again, forgetting that while you are babbling away on NPR, people are showering and trying to get out the door to work as fast as possible. When you start talking weather, their ears perk up for that quick bit of advice about how to better prepare for their day, which clothing, which jacket, umbrella, shoes, socks, their entire inner and outer wardrobe is decided in a mere fraction of seconds after hearing your declaration about the day's environmental tendencies.

"Very warm" implies warmer than prior days. Warm indeed. It implies comfort levels so wonderful that one needn't worry about sheilding themselves from wind or cold, no need for the gloves of last week, no need for a sweater.

But Suterius, come on. 87 is a whole different WORLD.

87 means NO jacket, no socks, extra deodorant (if my coworkers smell bad I have you to thank!), open toe shoes, no stockings, no layers, lighter shades of lipstick even, and coke instead of coffee.

So please, work with us Suterius. It's not "very warm" today.

87 degrees is "fucking hot out".

Rainy Days and Mondays 4/12/04

DID you hear the weather forecast on NPR this morning.

did you hear it.

Suterius was out, and so there was a woman running the morning show.

SHE KNOWS WHATS WHAT let-me-tell-you.

"It will be raining at some point later today"

THAT IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. It's called "Good morning, bring that umbrella!"

That's what I need in the am. Not Suterius' crazy comments like "feed those meters" as if anyone in NYC owns a car. Not "slight chance of a brief drizzle" as if to imply "no rain" when in fact precipitation gets you wet no matter what the form and no matter how light, muthafucka. You either need an umbrella or you don't. Be straight with me, Suterius.

Fabulous 4/6/04

I joined the swim team. I overheard the coach saying "how've ya been?" to a swimmer, and the reply caught my ear:
"Oh... The usual. Sometimes neurotic. Sometimes depressed. That's why we swim!"

On a separate note. My brother things he's going to kick my butt in the tri. DREAM ON LITTLE BONEY.

I don't keep like fruitcake. 4/5/04

Alright so maybe I don't keep well, inside a pumpkin shell.

Maybe I am trouble.

Maybe I'm worth it.

Loreal.

taxes 4/3/04

Last night I found myself hanging out the window, like I hadn't in so long. It was long past sunset and the sky was it's usual disturbing unnatural city-orange. I dragged a chair next to the window so I could sit longer than on the box. Ani was singing in the corner. My phone was sitting silently on the sill, next to me. Very silently.

I can't believe I actually ran out of drugs and had to recycle, as if, having tried them all, I picked the one I least remembered. It made me think I should give up and stop trying to leave my addictions behind. I may as well enjoy one of them.... except that each has a serious flaw. But with none of them, I have a serious flaw.

Somebody just tell me that much 3/28/04

I've been making a sort of announcement lately. I made it to my dad, my sister, my best friend, in various ways on various days. It seemed like a wise choice, but actually it's my instinctive inborn gut making the statement.

When I was 11 my friends started wearing makeup. I remember that I never left the house with even a drop of makeup on.

I'm extremely risk averse. The idea of failing at something, even something as simple and trivial as "having put mascara on correctly" was enough to put me off trying.

Other than one person, I think when any friend hears my announcement, they don't find it too surprising. I can tell. A number of them predicted it a decade ago, in fact. So my "choice" probably sounds sensible to them. Or they give me a patronizing smile of agreement at my realizing the obvious, and my childish attempt to make something beyond my control seem within it.

This weight on the other side of the bed 3/23/04

...is only books, not you.

My apartment has become a giant house of clutter & one good place to start trashing my belongings would be with my books. For godsake, there many I haven't opened in years.

Of course despite all the pep-talks I've been delivering to myself in the past few weeks, when the time came, tonight, to actually throw some books out... I nearly shed a tear. My hand ran from book to book, each one bringing back some memory of its contents or the time when I used it. The book that made me love Milton, the book I bought when I visited Sean in hick-town west virginia, the book with professor Conway's course hairs in it, the books I received as gifts, the books that filled me with math, the books i read enough times to memorize parts, blah blah blah.

I love those books and they DO love me back, in their fashion.

Why couldn't I throw out the Calc book? It was elementary calc, very generic, I could find the same thing in any library. And I have not cracked its cover in nearly a decade. There is nothing special about that book.
But I couldn't take it off the shelf, I didn't even touch it to try.

After looking at nearly every single title I own, I finally threw out 2 books when I realized I had never opened them in the first place nor could I understand them if I did: a "C++ Bible" and a book called "Physical Chemistry" published in 1955 that I must have found in the trash at Los Alamos. Did I mean to throw that out?
Shit.

3/22/04

I called my Pop to ask him about biking, but he popped out with one of his comments that spill when he's been pondering something.

"I guess there must be other women like you, with your problem. If you've got a decent brain and a good job then... well."

I know what he meant. About a week ago he half-jokingly wondered if he should have been less "supportive" to me in past years, because now I am in the comfortable position of being independent, established, self-sufficient, all-set. And apparently that's not good. I think my dad thinks I might be better off if I was struggling and needed help.

But I do need help sometimes. And I get it. It's just not always from the same person.

Is that all there is? 3/20/04

Is that all there is? If that's all there is, my friends, then let's keep dancing. Let's break out the booze and have a ball. (If that's all there is.)

I don't know who wrote it, but Peggy Lee sang it.
I've purged, changed, replaced, added, subtracted, fixed, improved, acquired, modified, appreciated, commenced, released, embraced, and sat still.

Now... what?

And today spring was supposed to arrive and bath us all in light & flowers. But there is still snow, the laws of physics over-riding any plans or expectations, as usual.

There isn't even that much snow but my butt felt glued to the chair this morning. Hmm. Well there may not be flowers busting out of the sidewalks, but I can walk two blocks and buy some for my kitchen.

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