Lucky me.

Of all the lame shitty things that are a part of being me, there is one pretty cool thing. I have this knack for things always turning out okay even when they mostly likely won't and in situations where most people would be freaking out, I'm always very chill almost to the point where I don't care about the consequences of what has happened to me. For example, take last night. Last night I got very drunk and lost part of my keys while I was at a bar. When it was time for me to leave I couldn't find what I was looking for in my jacket or in my car. I drunkenly fumbled around where I had been sitting in the bar trying to find my keys. My friend, who was much more sober than me, kind of helped me and handled me like I was some sort of time bomb about to explode from worry about not finding my keys. He tried to rationalize that as long as I had my car locked and the keys to my apartment that I would be okay and that I would still be able to get inside my building because people are always going in and out and that my car was safe where it was and that I would still be able to drive home in the morning. Of course I would be able to do these things. I'm Lance's kid. I've been able to do things for myself longer than most adults. And it is because of this that I knew that I was not going to freak out or explode from worry about a missing key. It's not the end of the world for me and I told my friend so. He was cool about it and backed off. He dropped me off at my building and I was able to squeeze in through the doors and get into my apartment just fine. The next morning I took a bus out to where my car was parked and low and behold, my key was in the snow beside my car. It must have fallen out when I was smoking cloves. The point is I always somehow know that things like that are going to work out for me and that all is not lost. I don't get frustrated or freaked out the way most people would, unless I am super tired. I did it once and it was stupid.

I'm in the library right now doing homework and it's not as warm as it usually is on the upper floors. In fact it is rather cold and uncomfortable and if I didn't have to write a paper for tomorrow I would have left and gone back home a long time ago. I also have a strong desire for some inappropriate things right now, but I need to get work done so I'm ignoring them. Dinner plans later maybe, I'm not sure what I want to do.

Thanks for the ride last night, I appreciate it.

And Mom, this is a good thing. It means you can worry less about me. 

How lovely to be a girl.

Today at work My Hebrew Friend tried to give me a hard time about being a girl and while my mother would have bitch slapped hi to an inch of his life, I chose to ignore him and think of all the fantastic things about being a girl that I love.

I love when I can dress up in my pretty clothes. Right now it is winter in Philadelphia and I can't wear my pretty dresses with the flowers all over them or the pastel cardigans and leather sandals that fill my closet. I the summer I wear dresses more than anything else because they are so light and airy. I love the ruffles on my sweaters and the way my skirts twirl out when I spin. I love white pearls and my pearl stud earrings that I get once a year from Cathy and Adam. I love the long strands of pearl necklaces that I got from my grandmother and the strand that my mother wore on her wedding. I love that they are so plain and pretty, but still very feminine without being showy like diamonds.

Makeup is another thing that is special about being a girl. As daunting as it can be to put it on sometimes, it's still fun to put on pink blushes or bright red lipstick. I love blush. It's the one cosmetic that goes with everything. Just a shimmery pat of powder that brushes on in a hurry. It's fun to sit in front of the mirror and brush different colors over my skin to see how they change my face. I love my perfume that I rarely wear because it smells so wonderful that I try to save it for special occasions. It comes in a beautiful delicate bottle with a houndstooth etching on the bottom and a silver bow on the cap. Even the label is designed in the most feminine script.

My shower is filled with girly soaps and shampoos and under my sink is a collection of pink bath products that make being a girl feel luxurious. It's fun to take a bath with scented soaps and candles all over the place. I love the different scented moisturizers that I can use and products I can put in my hair. I love being able to decide on whether I want straight or curly hair any day of the week. I love being able to wear my hair down or clip it back or put in a headband or barrette.

Clothing is not only the best part about being a girl. I love the pink and white rose bedspread I have on my bed currently and the soft delicate glow that my paper lanterns create over the top of my mirror at night. The color on my walls is like a gentle sea foam and the white netting is like being on safari in Philadelphia. I love the princess feel that it creates.

Who cares if this post set the women's movement back a billion years, I love being a girl.

Hey Yonni!

Hey Yonni! Guess what! I'm not going to write anything tonight!

Thundersnow

With Thundersnow raging on outside, and my lack of ice cream inside, I have become rather glum about having to stay inside and do nothing but schoolwork and watch PBS serials on Hulu. I am rather pleased that I found a show called Empires and I am now watching the Ancient Japan mini-series. It's kind of cool and now I want to take a tour of the Japanese countryside. I also would do anything to not have to read the last fifty pages of Daisy Miller, even though it is incredibly easy. I'm being incredibly stubborn and anti-school tonight. Merph. If I were at the house right now Marg and I would be wrapped in blankets smoking cloves on the front steps with Tor and Lee. Or we would have put on every sort of warm piece of clothing that we could find until we looked like homeless snowmen and wandered around campus. We may have even gone over to the Maguire playgrounds and jumped off of the swings into the snow. Either way we would have been having a better time than I am now. Grr stupid snow, and I love love love snow. I have been waiting for ages for Philadelphia to get hit like this. It's just no fun when Marg is trapped five miles away and My Hebrew Friend is another five miles past Marg. Everyone is trapped with six inches and counting of snow and ice on their cars and you can't see more than ten feet in front of your face because of the blowing snow and wind. This morning when I woke up at 7am I was convinced that it was 7am because is was so dark and cloudy and snowy outside. Tomorrow morning I don't have to get up at &am because hockey has already been cancelled and I can stay in bed until 8:30am or 9am.

The best part about tomorrow is that My Hebrew Friend has said that he will get me ice cream at work. Now I am all excited and want it to be tomorrow. I also want to go play in the snow. Does Hebrew Friend like the snow? Also we need need need to watch The Princess Bride sometime soon!

Oh yes!

Love, but not a love story.

"Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental ... Especially you, Jenny Beckman ... Bitch."


Thank you Jenny Beckman for being a bitch and inspiring (500) Days of Summer and the one movie that my romantic entanglements most closely resemble. WIthout you I never would have found a kindred spirit in Summer or started lusting over Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Instead I would probably still be insecure about my insecurities and would have had to wait to see Joseph Gordon-Levitt in Inception for him to become my favorite person ever. But really I think it's the clothing of the Tom character and the music that did it for me. Any guy who likes The Smiths and wears skinny ties under v-neck cardigans is cool with me. Unfortunately for some I do tend to take the Summer route in life because of my indecisiveness and my deep desire to live and breath everywhere and not in your parent's basement apartment while you work for your dad. I have no desire to settle tomorrow or in the next ten years, and so to the Tom's of the world: I am sorry I don't want to be in a relationship with you, don't ask me to try. But hey! We can be friends and see where it goes every once and a while. 


A long time ago (long compared to my short existence, short compared to TIME) I was with the Accountant who wanted to move back to Vermont as soon as he was done with school. He wanted to marry me and move in with his parents in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to marry me as soon as school was over and stay on his plot of land until the day he died. He did not want to go anywhere or see anything and he looked down on me for not being like him. The Accountant treated me like a child who misbehaves when I got excited about things he thought were silly. My mother loved him and I was comfortable because I thought that there was no one else. 


Then I grew a pair. Asshole when I say I don't want to date you, I mean it. Do not say it's because I want to enjoy my senior year of high school or that it is the distance. It's just you. You're creepy and mean and I want more from life than what you were willing to offer. Get over it already, stop texting me and fb stalking me. I'm not interested and I don't know why you still are. You made me quite and over-cautious around guys, just ask My Hebrew Friend who is desperately trying to get me to tell him perfectly normal things. Now I don't tell my mother about the boys I see and I don't let them meet my friends. I keep that part of my life holed up and to myself and completely separate from my everyday life. Thanks for Accountant. 


I used to be a Tom and now I'm a Summer. I have my whole life ahead of me to get married and have a child and in turn fuck that child's life up more than I've fucked up my own. And it's going to happen with someone who wants be on that ride. Until then I'm carefree as a birdie and intend on keeping it that way, or at least until I have someone who I am sure about the way Summer was. 

Sweet Disposition

Beat you to it.

Sometimes I wish I had a single parent like Hank Moody and was an only child living like Becca, but without the death rock black lipstick from season one. It would be like Californication, but with less writing and more cooking, and less longing for New York and more pining for the Jersey shore. But then I remember that I already have a half-assed Hank Moody and if he really were like Hank Moody we'd be living in a boat off the Florida keys and I would just be a tanner more self-absorbed and version of myself who would be hoping the fence to Hemingway's house than climbing the wall of the Barnes Foundation, and smoking more marijuana and drinking less gin.

I think it's the fact that I peaked too early in my world of responsibility. About mid-high school I wanted to do things, see stuff. I had a fucking ten year plan. Really it was just some bullshit that I made up ten minutes before a scholarship interview that would make me look good in front of the committee. They ate it up. Everyone always eats it up, the only person who sees through the crap is Lance, and that's only because I learned my deviousness from him, I'm just not sure where the less-genuine part came from. It certainly did not come from my mother, more likely the bitter struggle of the play ground and having fat thighs or some shit like that. Right now I just want to finish this stuff up and move to Tucson and start up that male prostitution ring that I've been knocking around with a friend. Wouldn't that be a kick? Or maybe Portland, Oregano. I recently watched the pilot of Portlandia starring Fred Armisen. The dream of the nineties is alive in Portland, where the tattoo ink never runs dry. The late nineties sucked balls on the playground, but I remember the early nineties being a pretty cool time. Portland aside, Philadelphia it's been cool and we'd better make the best of precious little time we have left together. 

Into the academic wild.

This week has been the first week of what will have to be the rest of the next year and a half (that's right my life has become another cliche). Otherwise Lance is going to drag me out of here and I will end up a freaky hybrid of him and Alexander Supertramp, wander the world and working in the restaurant industry. Oooh maybe then someone will write the story about my tragic demise in some remote part of the world. Wouldn't that be thrilling? I think so! Previously I had been studying physics for the past billion years that I have been in Philadelphia, this fall I had a meltdown and now I am not studying physics. It was a good meltdown too. The slow smoldering kind that eats you away inside and develops trigger points until something silly sets you off. That's what happened to me. One day I was perfectly fine and the next I was sobbing my way across Lower Merion and My Hebrew Friend had wipe up the hot mess I brought into work with me.

As of now I'm learning about English and focusing on writing. Contrary to my parents' and most other people's belief I did not choose this because of a boy. Boys schmoys. I only really chose English because it is something I can do and will be able to graduate sooner than later. After seeing the pilot for Portlandia, the sooner I can get out to Portland, Oregon the better. At least for me, maybe not my mother. Other than Portland I have no real life plans anymore. I went from having the very last detail planned out for the next ten years to not knowing where I will be next week and what I will be doing apart from school and work. A friend once told me I had my whole life to experience sex and not to rush it. Since it is too late for the sex part (forgive me mom and mom's friends) I am going to apply it to life. I have my whole life to figure out what I want to do and where I want to go. Lance didn't even get a suit wearing job until he was thirty-six, so I see no real reason to settle down with anything or anyone, anytime soon. Go me!

On a lighter, more aesthetic note, My Hebrew Friend got a haircut and he looks smashing, especially with the beard. Much shorter than I have ever seen him, his hair is very pretty and fun to rub your hand over it. Of course I have always been partial to guys with shorter hair and beards, so I applaud you My Hebrew Friend and think you should embrace your pretty hair.

Currently I am watching Marie Antoinette. The scene where the lot of them are creating a ruckus in the field to see the sunrise is going to be me someday but instead of French royalty, I'll have Marg and maybe My Hebrew Friend is I can drag him away from The Jersey Shore for long enough.

Another familiar hot mess. 

Silly People, Barbies are for Sex!

Don't blog late at night, you might end up writing ridiculous open letters and come off like a total asshole. And believe me, I am excellent at making an ass of myself, just ask my father. Or my mother. A little while back when I was visiting my parents in Vermont we were out drinking at the Matterhorn and I blurted out that I needed some marijuana right then and there. Of course it was anything subtle, I started my saying that I wanted some pot and when my parents couldn't hear me I said I needed some marijuana, only it was a little louder and I sounded out the syllables, mar-i-ju-ana. My mother thinks I'm insane and a budding alcoholic. In my defense I had had two and a half mai tais made by Jesse, which means they were 80% pure rum with a cherry on top and they were served in pint glasses.


Today at work I was working with Betty Page and I closed with The Ballerina. Both are exceptional coworkers even if one works a tad harder than the other. I usually don't get a chance to work with Betty Page but now that I have different hours I see her more often. Betty Page is incredibly funny and has a dark sense of humor. I love her back of the throat laugh. The Ballerina and I have been closing together since I started working in the cafe. She and I have developed a finely honed rhythm to shutting down and can do it  in twenty minutes or less, except when we are working with M. Like tonight. Tonight The Ballerina had a copy of Marie Claire magazine and was reading weird stories about peoples' sexual experiences out loud to us and we spent good portion laughing at how ridiculous people can be. Seriously who is so desperate to experience sex that they tear their own hymen by sticking their Barbie doll's legs up their vagina? Gadzooks! Closing with M is also a good thing because I am certainly guaranteed to be home by 10:45pm. No work until next Thursday!

Also Cute Asian Boy was in again.

To Yonni.

Hahaha I was about to get into writing this when the power went out. And then I fell asleep.

You told me that you kind of have me figured out. You said that you know me as a person, but that I struggle to tell you things about myself and that getting me to talk is like puling teeth. Which it is, I am much more willing to volunteer information about others than myself. It's the way I am, the way I was raised to leave no trace. Though that may have been more about camping than about human nature. Anyways it's a quality about myself that has let me easily transition from place to place without having deep emotional ties to people, it's also part of my soulessness, and also why I tend to not date much. By not sharing with others I am able to flit around as I please and not worry about the consequences that affect other people. Kind of like not having an emotional paper trail. 

You have only seen a very small portion of me as we have not known each other long. I know it's silly to say something like that, like I'm some sort of deeply emotional person with varying and fascinating characteristics. It's true though, we haven't known each other very long at all. You've also never seen me in my element. It's always at work, or after work, or after I've been working, or after a night class when I'm tired and drained for the day and the only reason I want to be around you is because you're a welcoming distraction for the end of the day. You've only known me in one of the lower times in my life. In the brief time that we've known each other you've witnessed one of the biggest landslides in my life. Someone had to, but it's not really how I am mostly. The picture on my Tumblr of me with my mouth open, that's what it's mostly like. Especially between the hours of 10am and 10pm. We've just never been anywhere for you to see me like that. 

Those texts you sometimes get where you think I'm not so sober? I'm usually not drunk and am just hiding behind that excuse so that if I do end up saying something stupid or regretful, I have something to hide my reasoning behind. I'm not ashamed I just don't text you again because I don't want you to think I'm clingy and that I'm a needy friend. Sometimes I just forget about using my phone at all some days too. I'm not comfortable sharing everything with you. I don't even share with my parents. Even stupid things about what movies I've watched or what music I've been listening to on my ipod. I sometimes only you tell you stuff because you're silly teasing finally gets to me and I have to say something to shut you up. I like when you do it though, otherwise no one would know anything about me. 

The post I wrote awhile ago on Tumblr is still true. You are one of the most genuine and endearing people that I know. I can tell about how you talk about your relationship with Kyle and the way you get excited about quoting your favorite movies. 

Ravenclaw is the best house. They have all of the wit and cunning of Slytherine and the courage of Gryffindor. They just know how to weigh the pros and cons of their actions before diving head first into things. They are incredibly smart and not at all 'Puffs. Cho Change was a fluke. 

Thao with The Get Down Stay Down

When We Swam by Thao with The Get Down Stay Down.

The Secret Garden: Literary and Cinematic Gold

I'm not writing. I don't want to write. Writing is stupid. I feel like I'm in eight grade and my mother is standing over my shoulder making sure I'm getting my homework done. I don't like writing. Yet tonight, I write.

I was watching The Secret Garden the other day when I was visiting my aunt's house and I have come to the conclusion that children's stories today are really quite terrible. They have no imagination or creativity and they gloss over the realities of life. The Secret Garden was written in 1909 and dealt with sickness, death, and abandonment great detail. The words chosen for the story are not dumbed down for a slow reader and they story is not fluffed up with silly qualifiers about mediocrity and love or everyone. The Secret Garden was a hauntingly real story that many children could relate to at the time, and while the childhood tragedies on the 19th and 20th have changed and have all but disappeared, many of them are still the same hardships that children face everyday including death, abandonment, and relocation.

The movie done in 1993 was very true to the book, but even the modern film omitted some of the harder to understand aspects of the book. Maybe death by cholera is not as cinematicly appealing as a great earthquake, but it certainly is much harder n a child to understand a deadly sickness in a far away land. I do still think that this movie is well done and I find that I am seeing new things that were not as clear to me when I was five. The scene where Mary's mother abandons her infant daughter in the jungle is much more clear.

The Secret Garden was not the first of it's kind. Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland were also classic children's stories dealing with adult issue and written for what would now be considered an eight grade reading level. Total fail on childhood literacy right there and overprotective parents.

Tonight I also have the hiccoughs.

Oh Mondays!

Once again it's almost 7 pm and I  am falling asleep. I've just eaten a balanced dinner and had a glass of wine and now I'm sitting on the couch writing to stay awake. If any of my mother's friends could see me they would say that I am turning into her. My mother would say I haven't eaten a proper meal, my father would tell me that sleep is good, but I think it's really the three glasses of Crane Lake merlot that I've indulged in. Red wine does that to me; I can be going strong on Tanqueray for hours, but get a glass of red in me and I'm down for the count. While some would say that my lushiness is the result of some dangerous genes floating around inside of me, I prefer to think that it is just the 21 year-old in me bursting to get out. Now if I'm still going this strong in five or six years then we can chat.

Tonight I cooked all things Mediterranean making a lemon and garlic vinaigrette salad and a frutti di mare pasta dish. I was partially inspired by my  Hebrew Friend's latest post about eating in and the fact that if I don't start eating my Dad has threatened to come down and stay with me for a while. Apparently the fifteen pounds of Taco Bell that I've gained this semester from stress eating doesn't qualify as food for he and my mother.  My sister's freshman fifteen weight gain on the other hand is not a problem for them. But anyways, to get them off my back I have been cooking anything and everything and then letting my dad know. It's kind of hard in my teeny tiny kitchen, I need more counter space and bigger sink, but I make it work. My parents kitchen is fantastic, whenever I visit I usually bake a few things because of their superior ovens and kitchen appliances. If definitely sometimes pays to have a parent of cooks professionally. The only time it really doesn't is when he's too tired to cook and you end up growing up living off of spaghetti or grilled cheese and tomato soup. My mother was no help on the cooking front. Being a "career lady" she does not fair to well with the domestic arts. Only recently has she been able to build up her cooking repertoire to a tomato based southwestern soup, apple sauce, and carrot and flaxseed muffins. The muffins are particularly popular with her nordic and hiking friends. For Christmas she received a slow cooker recipe book which in turn led to an actual slow cooker so now she safely experiment with food without overcooking it too badly or burning the house down. Go Mom!

Tomorrow I am getting my hair cut for the first time in a year by my uncle over at Seasonal Designs in Plymouth Meeting. I'm pretty excited about it. I'm thinking about bangs but I'm not sure what style. It's between A.J. Cook bangs or Camilla Belle fringe. Oh the decisions!

Back to Borders.

I can't sleep so I'll write.

After three weeks in Vermont, I have finally returned to Philadelphia and back to Borders. Yay! (You'd get it if you worked there). Upon my return I saw that a few people had been removed from the board and you know what that means, a little sad but that's the way life is: get a job, get more money, leave Borders. Anyways since my schedule is always a little different each week, reasons unknown, I ended up getting to work extra early and had the chance to read a book I had started before I left for break. I love the book in the YA section, they are an easy break from actual work which makes them easy to find your place after three weeks. It was also the first Friday in a long time that I got to work with E. Usually she has dance, but not this week! I'm not really sure why I had to come in other than to help train a new employee since I have rearranged my work schedule and have different hours and days than before. I have almost a week off until I have to go in next. The sad part about tonight was that it was my first shift without A. A accepted a nice job far away and is no longer working at Borders. Easily the best person ever, E and I are a little sad, a lot. For the most part work was uneventful until my ride home when I heard a disturbing promotion on the radio.

On my ride home I was listening to one of the local radio stations and they are doing a promotion to give away a free breast augmentation to some "lucky" woman. I'm completely appalled that people are okay with this. The slogan was about looking your best to feel your best. I think it is terrible that we as a society have convinced women that they need to go under the knife to make any sort of positive transformation in the lives. Be happy with who you are and find people who appreciate you for who are and surround yourself wit them. Women need to realize that there are other safer and natural ways to change themselves if they really feel they have to. Cosmetic surgery is not going to change how you feel on the inside, it's only going to alter how you look on the outside and sometimes those alternations do not go as people hoped they would. If you really want to look your best, start by exercising. Exercising and eating healthy will not only help transform your body, but it will also release endorphins that will get you thinking more positively about yourself, something surgery can't.

This year exercising and eating healthy are on my list of resolutions because I don't want to someday have to go under the knife to bypass. I suggest that everyone try to make one extra healthy modification to their lifestyles to boost their health and self-esteem.

The stupid radio promotion still has me mad :(

Older women and Wii.

So I recently introduced my mother to the Wii dance games. A big mistake on my part for two reasons, first I no longer get to take the Wii back to my apartment because my mother now is re-interested in it and secondly, she now likes to invite her middle-aged friends over to dance around to disco music in the family living room. Now I do believe that if someone is going to shell out the money for a gaming system then they should use it as much as they can, but my parents do not  use gaming systems and my sister no longer lives with them so it is only fair that it be passed on to a more loving home. Because I am a selfish person I feel that I should become the Wii's new owner. Since I have such flawing character traits it makes sense that I would be the one introducing new addicting games to my mother. What irony. My Hebrew Friend is right, I need to be a nicer person. So now I have to wait three or four months for the excitement to wear down before I can claim the Wii for myself.

In the meantime I've moved on from Futurama to Criminal Minds. There's not much to do here now that it looks like it's April so I just watch television shows en masse to avoid packing up the rest of my childhood possessions. There's really no point since I'll most likely be back here in two years looking for handouts because I can no longer support myself and have lost all direction in life after school. If I finish school. There's been some close calls, but in sixteen months I should be finished and for someone who doesn't really care about it anymore, I feel remarkably calm about it. It feels nice and I recommend it.

Happy New Years!