Hooray for me!! I jumped through hoops!

I suppose I shouldn't be sarcastic about this...but what the hell! After months of unending anticipation and having to deal with red tape, black tape, duct tape, I have finally been offered a spot (because of all this tape, there were only 3 spots left by the time they finally reviewed my application...one of which was for me!) into the photography program at SVA. They called me today and, wait...called??? I bet your wondering why they called...don't they just send letters? Yes, yes, generally they just send you a letter but because of all the damn tape (not because I'm so speical, like I'd like to think) they figured they had better expedite this for me. Anyway, I had imagined when I first applied that I would be more excited if and when I was accepted...but now that it's here I'm not terribly excited...I'm more like "well great...ok...but SVA your timing sucks!". Part of my blase attitude is becuase of what I'm going through right now. I worked hard to get here...to get to this day. I attented a crappy college (it was kinda like an extension of high school!) for two semesters just to gather up enough credits to even apply to SVA. I mean, this is a big thing to do...even though I may look 21, the reality is that I am 30 and going back to school. Anyway, regardless, here I am! Yeah! I think I will try hard next week to really get excited about this...

How to function after a breakup

Well, actually I don't suggest this for everyone. Just for some people. Ok, really, this is my own warped way of dealing and it only works on some days. Other days I'm completely out of my head...like today.

-Listening to nasty, angry, mean hiphop/rap. This method has proven to be my #1 defense and crutch. It helps enormously. Really. I have had days where I am just sitting on my little purple loveseat feeling like absolute shit and I force myself to open up musicmatch and press "play CD". Naturally, there is always a rap CD already inserted...and since I have amazing speakers, I feel better almost immediately. It's magic. Who needs drugs??

-Clean. Lots. Just keep cleaning. The toilet, the floors, all surfaces. Your options are ENDLESS!! That's the beauty of it! You could go for hours. And just when you think you have cleaned everything, empty out the fridge! Empty your cabinets! Move furniture and clean up those dust bunnies! You'll eventually colapse from exhaustion. (tip: play some rap and drink some beer while you clean! You'll forget why you were so upset in the first place.)

-Go grocery shopping. Everyday. Just buy a little at a time. It will give you the illusion that you're feeling great and can function with the best of them. Even if you have absolutely NO intention of actually cooking, just buy the food. One day you'll be forced to forget that you're stomach is always tied in knots of sadness because you'll have rotton food to consider...and/or... your clothes will all be too big and since there is a good chance you're too broke to buy new clothes (come'on we live in NYC) you'll have no choice but to forget about your knotted stomach and you'll kick yourself for not cooking all that great food. A little kick in the ass never hurt anyone! It will strengthen your character.

-Go out. A lot. Extract compliments whenever possible. Wear something other than ripped jeans and tees (note to self). Walk really tall and make believe that you really don't hate everyone on the subway. Smile at people even though you really wish they would get out of your face...or at least brush their teeth.

-Get lost in someone else's fictional, non-existent happiness or better yet, misery! Movies can be your best friend. Nothing can make you feel better about your own crappy circumstances than watching movies where entire cities are being wiped out because of a lobotomized, republican president and his complete lack of concern (regardless of repeated warnings from BRILLIANT scientists) that the world as we know it will soon be coming to and end...except for Mexico...but everywhere else in the US...well let's just say ya'll are screwed! Especially us here in NYC. Now...why was it that you were so depressed??

-Even if you have the ugliest view outside of your only two windows in you're 400 sf apartment, just make believe that it's HIP to have busted looking warehouses directly across the street from you. You're not a yuppie, you're a pioneer! Remember: denial is good sometimes.

-Don't let insomnia get you down! It's just another outlet for your creativity! Just think about all the extra time you will have to get shit done. It's really a blessing in disguise.

-And lastly, when things seem really bleak, just take a pill and go to sleep for a few hours. Sleep can be one of the best ways to escape yourself for a bit.

Remember: It will feel like it will never end...and there's nothing you can do about that! Just surrender.

To the strange man on the G

with the dark sunglasses, who made a beeline for the open seat next to me and then proceded to openly stare right into my face, smiling and exposing f**ked up teeth, I couldn't, for the life of me, discern a goddamn thing you said! You were clearly speaking jibberish! I also couldn't understand why you spoke to me in the first place since I was clearly engaging in not one, but two of the most common NYC subway "don't bother me" activities. I had on my big headphones AND I was absorbed in reading David Sedaris. If I was only engaging in one of these activites I could see interupting me to chat. But two? Anyway, when you pointed at my dragon tattoo, smiling, and then pointed to my face, still smiling, were you saying that I look like a dragon? You then said: "jdknvdkdjkruejnkkssss" and I could only smile and say "yes". You then said "mfkmkduunrsmmmoooll" while doing the "running motion" while pointing again at my face. I said "yes". Sensing that I really didn't know what you were saying, you did it again. And I said "yes". You then said something that sounded like "madel", all the while smiling and pointing at my face. I said "yes". You continued to say things like: "rupmmmluupinghh" and "gughtjmliiillg". "Yes", I replyed. My stop was next and I could only pray that you weren't getting off too. I think my brain would have suffered had I had to continue trying to understand you. Gotta love NYC.

My cats...

are driving me crazy. CRAZY. Ever since I have moved here all they want to do is eat. Eat, eat, eat. Every time I walk into my little kitchen they are both at my heels begging for food. They beg and beg and beg until I can't take it anymore and I give in. They have me trained very well apparantly. They wake me up at 5:30 every morning to be fed. They have mastered this and work together in seamless cooperation. Z combs my hair and slaps me anywhere on my body that is not covered. I have fought back by covering my most vulnerbable parts (my face and head) with a pillow. The rest of my body is safely tucked away under blankets. I think this pisses her off. Her next manuver is to walk back and forth, up and down, across and around the bed over and over again util I want to throw her across the room! All the while Buggy is walking around the room meowing her "begging" meow that sounds like something in between a whine and a moan. It's at this point that I tell them I hate them. And I curse them. Then I get up and feed them. Then they start the whole thing again an hour later. But I fight back the second time. I ignore them for as long as I could. I think I need some ear plugs.

The thing is, I don't really hate them. I love animals. But they push me in the mornings. They push my limits. I usually love them again at about 9ish. Ah, dysfunctional families.

The Palmetto's

Even though I'm a bit weary of "speaking to soon" and jinxing myself on said subject, I'm going to do it anyway. I haven't seen anything yet. I removed all the gross traps that were lying around the apartment when I moved in. The very sight of them were a constant, horrible reminder of what may come. Now, I know that the summer weather may bring the ones that fly. I don't even want to type their NYC name...so let's just call them the Palmetto's. It sounds much nicer. Anyway, I hope for their sake they stear clear of this apartment. They would be stupid to attempt entry as certain death awaits them...and what a terrible, painful, ugly death it will be. I remember many years ago, my then roommate and I were just 2 days in our new, lovely apartment when we found something awful in the bathtub. It was HUGE. We both freaked out and didn't know what to do...neither of us felt that we could step on it becuase we knew the crunching sound would be unbearable. Okay, so I feel that I must be honest at this point and mention that we had just smoked weed and were, well, stoned...but please don't let that deter you from believeing my story...I promise it really happened.

OK, so back to our friend who we will call Mr. Palmetto. Young and stoned, we didn't know quite what to do with Mr. Palmetto and in our stoned states didn't really want to deal with it. So, roommate comes up with the wise idea of grabbing a glass and trapping Mr. Palmetto in it so that he can't make a getaway. Were he to escape, he would surely contaminate the other rooms in the apartment. We figured that we can keep him trapped while we decide how to dispose of him. So, she flys into the kitchen, grabs a glass and we, well, SHE imprisons him. Needless to say, that glass went directly into the trash after all was said and done. Now, safe from Mr. Palmetto, we try to figure out what to do. Roommate comes up with second great idea, which is a common one, and grabs a shoe. With a great show of bravery, roommate lifts the glass. Mr. Palmetto, that quick little shit that he was, made a run for it. He gets out of the tub, out of the bathroom and as far as the hallway. Roommate grabs the glass and once again manages to imprison him. Fuck. Now what?

It is at this point that roommate decides that she has had enough of Mr. Palmetto. With shoe in slap position she is prepared to end his life. She lifts the glass yet again and with the force of a sledgehammer, brings the shoe down on Mr. Palmetto. Crunch, crunch. Silence. She carefully lifts the shoe... and wouldn't you know it, Mr. Palmetto was still alive and well. I swear. He tries to make a run for it, but since he must have sustained SOME form of an injury, he's kinda slow. Back in the glass he goes. Now we are both really unhinged. And stoned. Roommate then becomes angry. She goes back into the kitchen, where apparantly all the weapons for killing Mr. Palmetto and his cousins are located, and comes back out with....a knife. I look at her with confused and scared eyes. "WTF are you gonna do with that"? "Watch" she says. "We are ending this NOW". Please take note that my prissy ass has done nothing but watch since this whole ordeal began. Although, I never did claim to be butch...and for the record she's a straight girl.

Anyway, up comes the glass again and roommate takes the knife and calmly slices off Mr. Palmetto's head. Wow. His head is now about a half of an inch away from his body...literally hanging by "threads". His "tendons" or whatever they are, are still attached to his body and head. Now this is where people stop believing me. Like watching an accident happen, we both stare in horror with our mouths agape as Mr. Palmetto's head was being pulled back onto his body. We didn't wait much longer to see what would happen next. What we saw was enough to give us plenty of nightmares. Roommate then used the shoe like a serial killer uses a knife and hit Mr. Palmetto so many times, with so much force, that only a flattened, gooey mess remained. I know you don't believe me. That's okay. I know. I saw. I know the power of the Palmetto's. I just have this to leave you with: Watch out. The Palmetto's fly.

Night! Sleep tight... and do whatever you can do to stop the Palmetto's from taking flight!