My thanks yous

I have a few thank yous that I feel I need to put out. People have been no less then incredible to me lately. It's really beautiful. So, here are some in no particular order:

-To my dear friend who delighted me yesterday with a gift of the most disgusting 'perfume' if you will (Jean Nate) which hearkens back to our old days of delirious laughter...thank you for being so thoughtful and concerned. I know I was a bit unhinged at dinner...well, all night really...and you just went with it and let me be me. Slightly crazed, but me. Thank you.

-To my parents: I never thought you would end up here on a list like this, but you have earned your place. Thank you, thank you for being so kind and supportive to me lately. Thank you for being completely willing to co-sign a very, very large loan for me so that I may fullfill my dream of being the most amazing photographer...or one of them anyway. You have made a bold statement of support. Your 30 year old daughther has decided that now is the time to go to art school...and you are both being simply amazing.

-To all of my various friends who have listened to me cry, bitch, complain, express fear and doubt, and just blab, blab, blab about my life: Thank you. You have done wonders for me and I'm sorry if I have been so self-absorbed. I love all of you and without you all in my life I couldn't really be here. I don't even know how to better express this. You are all very important to me.

-To my long-time client: Wow!! You are such a kind and generous person. I can't believe that you are perfectly willing to give me a loan from your company (0% interest!) so that I may attend art school. You have done so much for me and I can't thank you enough. I am going to keep this favor tucked away in case in need to cash in...but I don't want to unless I am in a position of desperation. But, a million, gazillion, thanks to you. You blow my mind with such kindness.

-To my friend who linked me to this really great song: Thank you! I haven't been able to stop listening to it and soon I shall be saturated with it. I plan to check out this particular artist's other works. I really enjoy this song. It makes me happy. Thank you.

-To my cats: Thank you for putting up with your crazy mom. I love you both intensely and I'm so sorry that I haven't been home much lately. I have been visiting with friends and I need to work so that I can keep you both in the lap of luxury. But, I realize this move has affected you both and I'm really, really sorry. Z, you seem depressed. I'm taking you to the vet because you also seem thin...well thin for you. Bug, I think you need therapy. Your new obsession with food worries me. Regardless, you are both a constant in my life and thank you for being so.

-To my old english professor: Thank you for being so involved with my SVA saga. I can't believe how quickly you emailed me back and then emailed SVA about their absurdity. They want me to take a basic lit 1 class, but are exempting me from the advanced lit class...hmmmm...WTF?? STUPID!!! Anyway, thank you for spelling out to them what the advanced lit class that I took with you was like and such. And thank you for telling them that you think I am of unusual intellingence. My ego loved it!!

I'm sure I'm leaving out some thank yous...but not on purpose. These are the immediate ones that have come to mind.

Oh, to my readers...thanks for reading!!

I hear that mercury is in retrograde...

and I believe it! Weird, yes? Nothing in my life has been seamless these last few days. I have struggled with every phone call and communication. Please end, OK? I'm quite sick of it all. As an artist has said: "My cup runeth over, I don' filled it up". Well, that's me right now. I have overfilled my cup... and it's seeping out all over the place. I'm sick of the overload. I'm about to burst. Anyone have a place for me to put this?

Compassion.

Mine is being outwardly directed to the most undesirable creatures lately. No, not rats! Pigeons. I know, a lot of you may be saying, "but they are flying rats". This is not true. They are doves of some sort. Fucked up looking doves, but doves nonetheless. It's not their fault that they live in filthy NYC and have to compete for the same chicken bone that some person thought would do better on the ground then in the garbage. See, they are compassionate too. They just want to feed the poor hungry pigeons and the diabolical rats.

It worries me when I see them struggling to walk. I don't know how it is that they lose parts of their feet! Sometimes, they are missing parts of their beaks. This, too, preplexes me. Yesterday, I watched as a insenstive human quickly walked towards a hobbling "pige" (this is a nickname of sorts). Pige had to quickly get out of the way, which is difficult to do when your feet are only half there and all you have to propel yourself forward is your head.

Somtimes, people in NYC remind me of the pigeons. All broken and busted up. Searching and searching for sustenance. Maybe that's why so many NY'ers don't like them.

I wonder what the future will bring. What strange places will my compassion seep into when I'm old and feeble?

The moon.

Did you see the moon last night? It was very large and followed me home all the way in the cab. I appreciate its affection. The feeling is mutual.

Dear very large woman who wanted to smear my body into the cement:

I just want to thank you for not beating the living shit out of me yesterday. Clearly, you had the upper hand being about 6 ft tall and easily 200+ pounds. I certainly deserved it since I had the nerve to walk down 2nd avenue with my headphones...especially since I looked at you for only a spilt second and made sure I was far away from your pathway. I felt and saw your anger in that spilt second and I was scared. Apparantly, you too are a sensitive one and felt my fear. Altering your pathway and coming right up to me while winding up to hit me was very clever of you. But I am smaller, faster and have good reflexes. I got out of your way without skipping a beat...although my heart was beating very fast. It occured to me after I half-way turned around and saw you looking at me, considering whether or not you should come after me, that I in fact had pepper spray in my bag. Had I actually thought about using it if I really needed to, I would have sprayed it in your eyes, mouth and up your big fucking nostrils. But again, thankfully, I didn't have to. So, yes. Thank you for not slamming the life out of me.

Regards,

The woman who you wanted to kill yesterday.

My life without her

The internet that is. This internet-less life sucks. My strong feelings about this problem leads me to think that perhaps I have been too dependent on the web. Everything can be done here. Everything from grocery shopping to shopping for women to feeding your hypochondriac nature and more. The list is absolutely endless. It's an intersting experience to suddenly be cut-off from the luxury of having this lovely electronic world in your home. It's amazing how many other things I get done! Scary really.

But I don't really want this to continue. I want Time Warner Cable to get their fuckin' asses over to my apartment and fix this cable problem. I have a growing haterd for them and I am considering severing our realtionship. Bastards. So, I'm off now...to do something non-internet related. Wish me luck.

Music on my little Dell:"Cup of Coffee"-Garbage

(PS: Please don't read my blog...you said you wouldn't.)

I never knew about waxing...

and it's importance to some women until I started working at a spa that offers this service. Just today, a woman called to complain about a bikini wax she received the day before. She said that it gave her some bruises (???? huh???) and that she wanted some kind of compensation. One of the owners, a gay man who hates to see naked women or hear "woman type stories" was the one who had to deal with this phone call. The spa I work at by the way, was voted one of the "most gay-friendly spas in the country." This could be because both owners are gay/lesbian perhaps? And maybe it's location in dyke slope has something to do with it? Something to think about.

Anyway, this woman with the bruised pelvic region is not happy. Male gay owner does his best to soothe her. I was up front, so I heard it all. Next thing I hear him say is "no, it's ok, you don't have to send pictures, I don't need verification." Pictures?? OMG. This woman was going to take pornographic pictures of her vaginal area, email them a bunch of strangers at the spa, all in the name of $25?? And it wasn't like he was arguing with her about it. He told her that her next visit would be comped before she threatened him with the pictures. What goes through peoples mind sometimes??

This isn't the first time that a wax had gone so horribly wrong in the client's eyes that they resorted to absurd measures. One time, a woman called as soon as she got home after receiving her wax. She had apparantly taken out a ruler, did some measurements, and decided that her wax job was 1/4 of an inch off. She wanted her money back. Are you f'in serious? Your crazy! Crazy!

I too have had to deal with many an odd client. Something that happens way too often for my taste is this scenario: I greet my robed client and take them to my room. I have a speil and it goes something like this:

Me: "Hi, my name is Nicole and I'll be doing your massage." "Do you have anything specific you feel that you need focused on?"

Client: "Ummm...well yeah, everything." "But really it's mostly my back, my lower back, my neck, my left toe...and I think that's it....no, also my hamstrings and my jaw...I have TMJ because of all the stress...."

Me: "OK. Well, I tend towards the deep side in terms of pressure, so if it's uncomfortable at anytime, please let me know...I won't be insulted." (you'd be suprised at how many people suffer in silence because they think that telling you to adjust the pressure would be insulting somehow.)

Me: "OK, so start face down under the towel." "I'm going to leave the room and give you some privacy while you take off your robe and get on the table."

It's at this point that some clients, who are determined to have me see them naked, start taking off their robe while I'm still standing there just barely finishing my sentence! I try really hard to escape before they are completely disrobed but mostly it's in vain because they do it so quickly and before I know it, they are standing in front of me completely nude. I have no problem with nudity and people who are not modest in that way, but when I'm working, I'd really rather not see you all hanging out.

(A very short) "How To" guide to lesbians...

As in: how we (me and some of my buds) attempt to decipher whether or not a particular woman is of like persuasion. Sometimes it's plainly (or painfully) obvious. Other times, it can cause even the best gaydars to go haywire. This is not by any means fool-proof. I have many a time been able to place a check next to most items on the list only to be slammed with "so, my husband..."

-Look at the finger nails. This is without a doubt the first place I look if my gaydar goes off (which really means nothing because it generally sucks). Short nails...possibly a dyke. Medium length...probably not. Long, fake nails...go running in the other direction. Trust me on that one.

-I know this is probably not 'p.c' but I am going to say it anyway, because: 1. this is my blog and 2. being 'p.c' all of the time is boring. Look at the hair. Be it short, very badly styled (the 'feathered look' or a mullet is a dead give-away) or shaved off, this is generally a very good indicator.

-A woman having either 'gay-face', 'gay-hands' or in some cases, both. A woman having both will make it much easier on you...and will mean she's very gay as opposed to just kind of gay. I can't really explain what 'gay-face' is...it has something to do with the jawline and the teeth that just scream 'lesbian!'. 'Gay-hands' is just that. 'Gay-hands'. When you see a woman with 'gay hands' you'll know exactly what I mean. I don't have 'gay face' but I have 'gay-hands'. This is the case with some of my other lesbian friends too. Generally, if she's gay, she will have one or the other.

-Body posture. Gay women just assert themselves differently than straight women do. We generally walk with a sense of purpose and confidence...or we strut.

-Heels. If she looks like she's in drag in them, then there is a good chance she's a dyke.

-Being a vegetarian and/or having a fridge filled with soy products. I hesitate to use this one as an indicator in and of itself because of the popularity of vegetarianism these days. But if all the others check out, then this one could seal it.

-Cats. I know I need not say anymore on this one.

I know that there are many more but these are the the ones that have come to my mind this morning...and I did say this was going to be a short guide.

Here's a good question or two

Why is it that even though I have never visited a porn site, I still get all of these porn emails that get filtered into my junk mail? How do they get my address?? And why is it that it only happens in my hotmail email and not others? Hotmail sucks I guess which is why I have been trying to get rid of it for the last year...but people keep emailing me there even though I have replied from my preferred email address. Arrggh! I just refuse to keep checking the hotmail account. I'm done with it.

Soooo.....

I have a confession to make. I own a CD of the Forrest Gump soundtrack. What sparked this confession? Well, I'm actually working today, believe it or not, and since I was forced to work out in the cabana room I did not have access to my favorite CD's that are in my usual room.

Why wasn't I able to work in my usual room? Because someone, and if they were to ever read this here blog they would know exactly who they are, took it first knowing full well how I feel about room 2! Grrrrrrr....but this woman is lucky because as crazy and chaotic as she is, I simply adore her. Were this not the case, I would have to subject her to some very cruel forms of punishment.

So, I go to the cabana room. Fine. No, wait...not fine. The 2 CD's in here are both crap! I don't want to have to listen to either one of them all day! Grrrrr...well, I submit to the fact that one of them is going to have to be put into rotation. I choose the 'better' of the two, which is a mix of very uninspiring songs. The first song....is.....the song from the Forrest Gump soundtrack. Haha! I then remembered that I in fact own the Forrest Gump soundtrack CD! Now, I haven't actually listened to it in years...but I have had many moving opportunities to get rid of it and I haven't. I in fact go through my CD book fairly often and eliminate the one's that I never listen to. But everytime I come across the Forrest Gump soundtrack I think: "hmmm, I had better hold onto this one just in case." In case of...what?? I have no idea. Really. Not a goddamn clue.

Her.

Something I wrote many months ago. The assignment: write about someone who has greatly impacted your life, in 3 distinct paragraphs. This is what came out:

Stinking smoke filled the hot sticky air. It swirled around us like a rope, choking us. It snaked up into our nostrils. She was sickingly angry. Her hand shook while the cigarette dangled from her fingers. They were yellow, her fingertips. Like the color of bile. They were bitten down and chewed up. Her breath reeked of stale coffee and cigarettes. I smelled it when she yelled and it made my stomach queasy. She jumped at every noise and rage filled her bloodshot eyes. She walked around the house with such ferocity that it frightened us into silence, between us and within us. She was rail thin because the anger and guilt ate away at her flesh day after day, but still the rottonness remained. Her anger was killing her much quicker then those damn cigarettes. The steep narrowness of her mind could not think of or see anything else beyond all those assumed injustices that had been thrust upon her. She was filled with such an ugly, wicked bitterness that it seeped out all over the place and dripped and sprayed and spilled on everyone around her. It was like someone vomiting over and over again with no end of supply in sight.

Long, long hair flowed in my memory. Straight, dark, and silky. Like the best silk you could imagine. A young, beautiful, wanting, shining face with clean straight teeth and eyes that told an epic. Her perfume was strong and light. It followed her around like a shadow, trailing quietly behind with its presence constant. Her fingers were still bitten down though. An indelible mark of the past, I guess. She was filled with a eager desire to please and funny kind of nervousness. A nervousness that she could not hide because it was all over her and then all over us too. It made her shake gently all over. This nervousness made her smile widely but unsurely. The corners of her smile couldn't stretch far enough to meet her eyes. Every move she made was tainted with this nervousness. It made the whole house breathe uneasily. Her eyes showed such bravery and such a desperate need all at once, that you couldn't help but feel both pride and pity for her. But she was really full of possibilities. She brought all this to us like a gift because it meant she really cared a great deal. She was the bright shining star that she could have always been if only she had believed it.

Her eyes look sullen. They are filled with a particular kind of vacancy. Seemingly sucked dry from the life that had once existed so strongly in them. She often agrees to agree, although she's not really listening. She's just agreeable. Her mind is elsewhere and nowhere. She's most likely worrying that the sky is waiting to fall on her. Everything that happens, is happening only to her. It's all part of a shrewd plan that is meant to destroy the happiness she hasn't yet found. She wears a perpetual frown. Her mouth has hardened into that shape over the years and she can't seem to crack the mold. She means well though. She just doesn't know who she is. Her identity is hard to find beneath all the death of life. She mainly exists to exist until there is no air left to breathe. She watches her children grow and tries to make little baby steps towards her own possible growth. She is afraid to live and afraid to die without living, so she cleans instead. It's a safe alternative to living. If her physical life is clean, then she is immediately the same. She vacuums until every little piece of dirt is gone from her sight and gone from her guts. She tidies and tidies until everything is straight, unable to move or breathe out any emotion. She squeezes out any possibility of vulnerability so there is no room for it to exist. This is her armor and it makes her feel safe. This is her life.

My 4th pics

No exciting fireworks pics...but this...

Paint

I went to the hardware store today to get some paint. I need white paint and a darkish purple for the remainder of my bathroom. Here's my problem: how the hell does one choose a 'shade' of white when there are like 80 different 'shades'. How the hell am I supposed to do this? And why are there so many different 'shades' of white to choose from? I have decided it is purely for the purpose of driving people mad. There could be no other logical reason. I left the store without buying any paint. I'm afraid to make this decision. It suddenly feels overwhelming. I just want some white paint!

Untitled

Z Mama

My day of completely unproductive fun

I woke up at 10:42. I stay up really late these days just because I can.

I forgot to get coffee beans yesterday. I sauntered on down to the "bagel run" where the guy there thinks that there is something off about me. I can tell by the way he looks at me. His coffee is pretty good and cheap as hell. After that, I went and bought some beans.

I came home and put on Bizzare Love Triangle really loud. I danced around my apartment while playing with my cats. They love this string toy that I bought them last week. It's called "The Cat Charmer" It works. We had great fun, the 3 of us, dancing and bopping around the apartment.

I put on Luscious Jackson and am now writing this totally meaningless post.

The fun planned for later:

Eventually I will eat something, shower, lint roll my loveseat and blanket, and head out.

I will stop and get a pedicure.

I will then get on the G and hope that no rats run over my feet. I will not be wearing my big black boots today. It's fucking hot out!

I will stop and do bank stuff.

I will then go over to BB&B and get some stuff.

I will then meet my friends for happiness hour.

All completely self-indulgent and absolutely unproductive.

I love it!

The rat and I

I knew this day would come. It was inevitable. I know that living in NYC my entire life would render this situation unavoidable...even though I had managed to avoid it for 30 years. My streak of luck ran out at approximatley 8:15 am Saturday morning. I was off to work (entirely too early if you ask me) and my morning appeared to be starting off ok until I got to the "bagel run" for a cup of large coffee. I gave the dude my dollar for the coffee and for some very odd reason kept trying to also hand him my metrocard (more than once!) that I had out and ready to swipe. He looked at me very strangely and said "I think you're going to need that." Yes, I will, I thought. I think he assumed I was on drugs.

I would like to take this moment to back up a bit and offer a public apology to my old roommate/friend Tara. Tara, I'm sorry about that evening back in the 30th Street apartment. We smoked some weed (we smoked a lot in those days) and went outside to hang out in the hot, sticky, summer air, and, well, I'm sorry that when we were standing and talking and that very large waterbug landed on your shoulder...ummm...I'm very sorry that I bolted down the block without telling you why. I'm sorry that I instead chose to tell you from a very far (safe!) distance. I remember you yelling: "why did you run down the block?" and I replied "because there is a waterbug on your shoulder!" I remember seeing you do that freaky, freaked out dance that anyone in their right mind would do if they had a waterbug hanging out on their shoulder. You were mad at me. I understand. I would've been mad at me too.

Ok, now that, that is out in the open I can continue. If anyone knows anything about the G train, you know it's a really short train. This translates to always having to be in the middle of the platform in order to board. If you just enter the platform and the G pulls up, you are going to have to run a fairly long distance in order to catch it. Sooo...this is exactly what happend to me, as it often does. With large coffee in hand, I descend the stairs to hear the G rumbling down and just about approaching. I knew that I was going to have to sprint. I had on my heavy, big black boots and realized that my run would not be an easy one, but I didn't want to wait for the next G train.

After I swiped my metrocard, I began my run. In the corner of my eye, I see that something large is running TOWARDS me along the edge of the platform. I ran, it ran. I ran, it ran. As we got closer to each other I could clearly see that it was a large rat, with a large tail. *Holy*Fucking*Shit!* is what I thought. For the people who know me, ya'll know how I feel about rats, mice and such. Anyway, I prayed that the rat would remain along the edge of the platform and allow me to continue my run without interference. But this is not what happened. The rat instead altered his course and started to run right TOWARDS me! Fuck! He got very close to my feet and we both did the 'dance' of trying to get past each other. He was big! Shit! Finally, he ran UNDER my legs (wow!) and continued along his path. This all happened in about 4 seconds but it felt like an eternity to me. Shaken, I still wanted to catch the G, so I continued running. I slid in the last car just as the doors were closing. When I finally sat down and allowed myself to breathe, I thought about the rat and I. I realized that this was due me. I deserved it. Payback is a bitch. So, Tara, you have been vindicated.

An update...

For those inquiring minds, I am offering an update on the states and conditions of my clients today.

Number of clients = 5 (one was a 90 minute)

Number of peeling backs = 0

Number of smelly butts = 1

Number of stinky feet = 0

Number of clients with bad attitude = 0

Number of clients who were clearly uncomfortable receiving massage= 2

Number of clients who received really well = 1

The kids

Today

I woke up, saw the rain, and I smiled.

I have been notified by a friend that technically my 'blog' is really a 'live journal'. Ok. I might move over to where I really belong.

To the few of you who actually read my 'bloggylivejournal', thanks.

I have been trying to gather up some MC's (missed connections for those of you *gasp* who don't know about Craigs List) on Craigslist. If anyone has some free time, post one for me please. Yeah, I know. Shut up.

I realized recently that in many of my previous posts, I have used a disturbingly large amount of exclamation points. I apologize for this. I'm not that much of a cheerleader. I don't know what possessed me to do it but I am cutting back as of yesterday.

Today, I have to do 5 1/2 massages. I hope that no one has: a peeling back due to a sunburn, a smelly bottom due to not wiping well, stinky feet due to not showering, a shitty attitude due to family dysfunction, and last but most importantly: please, please, please let me have clients who actually WANT to be receiving a massage. To those people who come for massage even though they hate being touched: You are doing yourself and your massage therapist a disservice. Contrary to what you may believe, you are not doing us a favor by laying on our table. We receive no satisfaction from massaging people like you. It makes our already tough jobs ever harder. We are not forcing you to be there. You are not a victim. Just don't book the massage...or if you are nervous, which is totally normal, please try to keep an open mind. What we do is not 'sexual'. We are professional, trained individuals who generally love what we do and want to help people. We can't help you if you secretly think we are perverts. Oh, and as a side note, it's not the best idea to give a gift certificate to a 15 year old for a massage. They are most likely going to hate it. Most of them are awkward, and completely uncomfortable with their bodies. This translates to no one being truly happy in the end because you can bet we don't want to do the massage.

If the above paragraph makes me seem like a bitter massge therapist, it's not true. I do amazing work, and really love it most of the time. I just need to vent out my pet peeves occasionally.

The meaning of the photo at top is where I wish to be soon.

Lastly, what happened in London is truly horrifying. My heart goes out to all of you.

Anyone want to come out and play?

There are some things that I have always wanted to do and haven't yet. Since I don't know how long I really have here, I want to get a move on things, just in case. If anyone wants to join or help facilitate (financially of course) let me know!

-I have wanted to go on a hot air balloon for as long as I can remember. Yes, I'm scared shitless. Yes I will probably freak out a little bit once up in the air, but I think it would be an amazing experience. This one is a bit pricey, but I think it would be worth every dollar.

-I want to go on a sailboat on a beautiful, sunny day. I want to kick back, smell the ocean, and feel the breeze that you can only feel being by water. Since this would be my first time, I don't really want to do any of the hard work that might be involved (movies show people struggling with the sail sometimes) but I would be willing to pour anyone else on the sailboat a cola or a mimosa. If anyone has a sailboat...or I would even settle for a 'regular' boat, please invite me and some of my friends! It will be great fun!

-I want to go somewhere where I can lay down in a huge field that is near an airport and watch planes fly closely overhead. Like they do in the movies! Have I watched too many movies in my lifetime? If anyone knows of a place that is not too far away and would be willing to drive me there, I'll be your best friend.

-I want to go rafting. Not the crazy white water rafting, but something a little more calm so that I don't fall out of the raft and inevitably smash my head on a pointy rock and get hurt.

-I want to go to a ballgame. Yes, I really haven't ever been. No, I'm not lieing. Yes, I realize that puts me in danger of my 'True New Yorker' card getting revoked. It's just that I'm really not a sports person. But I do feel like I need to experience one. So, whoever comes with me MUST know something about baseball so that I can annoy you the entire game by asking for explanations and such. In turn, I will call over the dude who brings the hot dogs to you so that you don't have to!

-I want to stand outside during a storm and allow myself to get completely soaked. I have tried this in the past, but something inside of me tells me it's not okay to just stand there. I guess I can do this one alone, but it would be more enjoyable if someone looks crazy along with me.

-I want to ride an elephant and/or a camel. I have no idea how to go about this one. I imagine it requires traveling quite some distance...like to another country! It would also require a large amount of money. Any takers?

That's all I can think of right now. I know there are many more. I'll write about them as they randomly come up.

Enough is Enough

I'm breaking this cycle of complete and utter madness. I'm sick of it. I am going to re-enter the world of the fully functioning and focused. And I'm doing it today...I think. Well, I'm going to try. I know you're mind is burning with the question of HOW. How will Nicole do this? How will she pull herself out of the depths of post-breakup hell? Well, don't fret! I will end the mystery for you right now.

-I am going to get my lazy ass over to the Y here in my hood, that I joined almost 2 weeks ago and actually use the facilities!! It has been over a month since I have worked out. I love to exercise so there is absolutely no excuse. As soon as I finish with my client, I'm headed over there...but don't hold me to it.

-I am going to COOK. This may not sound very exciting or monumental to the 3 or 4 of you who sometimes read my blog, but trust me, this is a big deal. I have never really been into cooking. It has always just felt like too much work to prepare a meal just for myself so that I can sit on my little purple loveseat (who has a table??? besides you, Laura...we know...your apt. is HUGE) and eat all my hard work in like, 5 minutes? Then what? It's kind of anti-climatic. The other thing about cooking is a bit more emotional. My ex LOVED to cook our meals. She would make great dinners for us all the time. So, I don't know...it's very intertwined for me...BUT I am breaking out of it TODAY. Even though my kitchen is really tiny and even though it's going to be a major challenge to maneuver in there and even though it's probably going to take me an hour to make a simple dish...I am going to do it. My frying pan may suffer a dose of shock and suprise but that's ok because inanimate objects don't have feelings...right??? I must go grocery shopping to facilitate this project because the contents of my fridge are as follows:

Condiments, hummus, whole grain bread, cereal, yogurt, wilted spinach, wilted mixed greens, one half of an avocado turned brown, Silk soy creamer, Silk soy chocolate milk, tomato juice, a Brita, coffee beans, 2 kiwis in danger of going bad soon, a package of tofu, some vege hot dogs, some refried beans in a tupperware that are probably past their prime, tortillas, and rye crispbread.

In my cabinet resides: polenta, one can of split pea soup, one can of tomatoes, some boxes of quick fix tabouli, kamut spirals, and some dry beans.

Yea, I know, I know.

-I am going to finally bust open that meditation kit I bought about a year ago. For a whole year I have had the intention of checking it out but something always got in the way or was way more important, such as watching a movie. But tonight I am going to attempt the impossible. I'll let you know how long I was able to sit before my mind told me to move.

-I am going to buy paint and finish up the last of what needs to be painted in here. I will most likely not have time to do this today because, well, I have to cook. But soon, very soon.

-I am going to make lists! Yes, lists of all the things I need to purchase in order to make my home a real home. Wanna know some of the things I need?? Well, I'll tell you anyway.

I need a frame for my bed because currently it's on the floor...I think I deserve to be a little higher up, no? I also need a filing cabinet, a table for my printer (it's sitting on my chair right now), a stepstool so that I may reach the upper cabinets which will soon hold lots of stuff that I will be cooking, some light fixtures that are not hideous, some silverware since I only have 3 forks, 3 teaspoons, 4 tablespoons, 3 butterknifes and one chopping knife. I will also need to purchase another bowl or 3 since I only have one...while I'm at it I should probably buy more cooking items since all I have is one red frying pan and one saucepan...hmmm.

Well, I think that about wraps it up. If anyone has any recipes that are vege, simple, and tasty send them over. I have cookbooks but I'm lazy, like I said. Also, if anyone notices spelling errors, horrendous grammatical errors, terrible misuse of commas or an insane amount of run-ons in any of my posts please let me know.

Ok, off to the grocery store I go.

Happiness

I think I have to force it upon myself right now. Soooo....here are the top 10 things that make me feel that feeling that we are always chasing...

Not in any particular order:

-a good night's sleep.
-a clean apartment.
-the click of a camera.
-feeling accepted and loved.
-my cats.
-music.
-embracing my fears, saying FU to them and then running head-on into them.
-possiblity.
-sunlight.
-eccentricity.

Thank you for indulging me.

Happy 4th.

Dear Lady Time,

I have been meaning to write you a letter for some time now. I have some things I need to discuss with you. actually I HAVE written you before but I don't think you heard me. Maybe I need to express myself much louder this time. You may or may not know this but you torment me. I love you and hate you simultaneously. Nothing about you makes sense to me. No matter how hard I try to understand you, you elude me. You are a mysterious and evasive bitch. I only want to come to a place where I don't question your motives anymore. I just want to feel free.

I'm sure people often have good things to say about you. They probably say things like: you are a healer. And: you are a gifted woman. Oh really? Hmmm...well, OK, I'll give you that much. Looking back on past experiences I can see where you have done wonders for me. But you just take so damn long! That's a huge part of the problem. That's one of the bones I have to pick with you. What exactly are you waiting for? I'm ready and you're not? What's the deal? It's you who brought me to this place. YOU. I received you openly and now you're biding your TIME? That's just not fair. The other thing that bugs me about you is this: why do you insist on stopping perfectly good matches from occuring? What matches you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Matches like friendship and love. Why is it that there are people that exist in your space, well, our space, that you know that you have an obvious connection with...a connection that may have no words but yet you know that this person belongs in your life in some way and there is no escaping the obviousness of it, yet you insist on placing your evilness of "it's not the right time" onto the situation, thereby, rendering it unattainable. Why, my Lady, why do you do this? What and when is the right time? How long do I, we, need to suffer? And while I'm at it, what is this bullshit about "time will tell??" Tell what exactly? When will I learn this truth? What is this coming epiphany? Why must I wait? Why is now not the time to know? I feel ready to know so what's the deal? This is what I hate about you. You don't know when to stop or to begin. Sometimes you're like a constant sea of change and other times you're like a song that plays over and over again.

You are something else. You really are. You do something to us mortals. and I have decided that you must be related to Murphy. I hate him too. But as much as I hate you, I'm very taken with you. You're allure is magnetic. I can't stop thinking about you. You are always on my fuckin' mind! I feel like I have been stricken with a bit of the ol' OCD. You must, for fucks' sake, free me from this. Please. Rid me of this madness. I can't take much more. Just give me a sign. A wink, a smile, a call. Something.

But to your honor, I must admit, without you I would be nothing. I couldn't exist. I realize that I NEED you. Like fish needs water, like a desert needs a storm. Just be with me Lady. Embrace me and love me.