Saturday, July 30, 2005

JL is at it again.

I was starting to miss him.

Mollify me

I am in a pissy mood. It's one of those lame pathetic moods I get in every once a while. A combination of bitter, insecure, jealous, angry, annoyed, annoyed that I'm annoyed, and general angst. I am trying to think of a list of things to do (another list!) to elevate my mood aside from doing drugs and kicking puppies. Some things that are often suggested:

Writing your feelings in a journal
This NEVER works. It only reiterates, in plain print, why life as a whole sucks and why I suck. Instead of X, Y, and Z swirling in my brain, they are written in neat print. How does seeing the printed version of your inadequacies mitigate their existence?

Eating [insert bad food]
Isn't this how people become compulsive overeaters, manic depressed, and diabetic? Instead of being just a pissed person, you're a fat pissed person with clogged arteries.

Not an option for me since I don't have a boyfriend and the prospect of going to a random bar to have a one-night stand with an inadequate manchild who will not likely please me is not very tempting.

I like Jack Daniels. But isn't the only thing scarier than a drunk an angry drunk?

Walk around, insult people, and feel superior to everyone
This must be effective because it's so popular. It may work for others, but I can't help but wonder if when they go home every night, they curl into a fetal ball and cry themselves to sleep, squealing "why? WHY?"

Watch a funny movie
This might work.

Listen to happy music
Another possibility.

Listening to and singing along with a song you know you kick ass at singing and that invariably garners standing ovations at local karaoke clubs
This is perhaps the most viable solution.

Anything else? Admittedly, these "solutions" don't really solve anything.

But neither does a pissy mood.

I love lists

JL is taking a shower right now. For a second, I thought he was taking his second bubble bath of the day, but the steady sound of his shower assauged my fears of being deafened once again.

Feeling pretty overwhelmed, I wrote a list of things to do. I know it's good to keep lists. My brain, neurotic and paranoid at times, will every hour concoct a new item to add to my list of things to do.

But I'm trying to be optimistic.

Instead of thinking of it as, "Shit I have to fucking do," I ought to think of it as, "Meaningless banal tasks that temporarily distract me from the fact that life is a seemingly endless list of lists to do." Or even more optimistically, "List of things I do now that will prevent fan-hitting shit later." Yes, I think the latter name motivates me to begin the item at the top of the list.

I shall heed the advice of "Bob": Baby steps.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

A non-hangover

I used to think that a hangover = headache + nausea. But now I strongly suspect there's an additional variable. After some much needed binge-drinking last night after having taken a two day bar exam, I--after many years of research and experience--preemptively drank a substantial quantity of water, took a multivitamin, and chugged some pepto before bed. This morning, I took ibuprofin and later on, a two-hour nap.

Although I seemed to have covered all the usual hangover remedies, I am left with this odd bleh feeling. Like a hangover minus the headache and nausea. It is the residual "x" that is missing from my hangover equation.

I am now contemplating renting "Undercover Brother" and eating two slices of there-goes-my-diet pizza.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

A wish

I was a child of the city, and the city was my concrete jungle gym. As children, we used to chase after milkweed seeds, those airborne puffs of soft white with a tiny dark brown seed attached. We called them "wishes." If you were lucky enough to catch a "wish," you merely had to cup one in your hands, make a wish, and release it.

I've been seeing a lot of those lately and tried many times to catch one. I "semi-caught" one the other day after it was stuck in a spider web. I couldn't really cup it because I was effectively grossed out by the debris and the web. I held it by one of the white tendrils, made my wish, and released it, whereupon it fell to the ground given its added weight.

But this afternoon, I saw a wish within my reach. I was scrambling down the sidewalk on the ground and finally caught it. I made my wish. And then I released it and watched it as it floated away in the air.

Not a gawker

I went outside today and was immediately assaulted with the blaring, thick 100 degree weather. I literally gasped. I'm walking to get my usual addiction when from a distance, walking towards me was this couple. It was quite hot, so I surmised that was the reason why the man was shirtless and the woman was wearing what can only be described as triangular pasties attached with white strings. The man had an athletic build, as evidenced by his defined pecs and abs. The woman was also athletic, with a four pack and perfectly shaped C cup breasts. They looked like they were right off of a Health and Fitness cover.

They were holding hands, walking down the street, flaunting what they obviously earned through many hours at the gym. After seeing them from a distance, I looked to the side, not indulging their obvious attempt to render all who look upon them with envy or lust. I merely looked at the hatted old woman in her walker on the opposite sidewalk, perusing a glass case. I sensed Mr. H & F looking at me as they neared me.

"Why isn't she looking at us?" he was probably thinking.

I continued to avoid looking at their perfectly sculpted bodies as I passed them and I could feel him still looking me.

"LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME," his glare seemed to implore. "What's wrong with that girl? Even if she were gay, she'd at least check out my perfectly sculpted girlfriend with her perfect body, but she isn't. What's going on? This has never happened before! Maybe I should do more push-ups..."

I passed them without incident. I'm sure many other passerby gawked and so assauged his perceptibly bruised ego. But I proudly maintain the title of the Girl Who Did Not Gawk.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

The Mystery of JL

It's amazing.

It really is. After living in this building for three years, I am almost--yet not quite--accustomed to the walls that seem to block out all sound EXCEPT for the sound of someone turning on their bathtub faucet. There is one neighbor (I can't tell if he's a next door neighbor or one right above me) who, every time he turns on his bathtub faucet, literally jars my entire studio with a numbing, deafening noise.

I am perhaps the luckiest girl in the world. This particular neighbor LOVES to use his bathrub jacuzzi. What is "love"? Love is turning on the loud, raucous faucet to take a bubble bath at 3:45 in the morning, waking up neighbors who have to do work the next day. Love is using the jacuzzi 2-3 times A DAY. Love is using the jacuzzi every day, any day, whether it be winter, spring, summer, or fall.

Jacuzzi Lover takes about an hour to fill his tub. So for a wonderful whole hour, my eardrums delight in the constant, non-abating noise. I am reading something, JL startles me with his faucet. I am watching TV and JL turns on his faucet. I literally have to double the volume of TV just to hear the words that come out of the actors' mouths.

It truly is amazing.

I wonder about JL. What kind of person feels compelled to take 2-3 bubble baths a day just to make it through? What kind of job does he have? It must certainly be stressful. Or maybe he tests bubble bath solutions for a living. I wonder why he would be using his jacuzzi at 4 in the morning. Doesn't his skin crinkle up from the osmosis? Are all those bubble baths good for his skin? Doesn't he worry about all the water he's using and how damaging it may be to the environment?

The questions plague my mind. JL is truly a mystery.

I am moving out in a few weeks, and wonder if perhaps I've ever passed by JL while checking my mailbox or unloading my laundry. Will I leave this building and town without ever knowing who the real JL is? If he only knew the impact he's had on my life, an impact so real and profound that I felt compelled to blog about it.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Random meaningless encounter

I'm walking down the street, a tad irate that I had left my wallet at home, and was thus unable to get my fix of Starbucks. As I'm strolling in the 90 degree weather, an older man wearing what appears to be a hawaiian shirt and a straw hat is walking towards me. He stops to ask me where a certain store is. Being the good samaritan that I am, I point out that he is going the wrong way, that it's actually the opposite direction. He says he just came from that direction and didn't see it. He then reverses and starts walking alongside me as I'm explaining that I'm pretty sure the store is the way I'm walking.

Then we get to the corner where I make my right onto another street. I tell him to just continue on the street and he should see the store. Instead of continuing on, he stands there and chats a bit. He asks me questions about the town, if I'm in school, where I went to school, where I'm from, what I like to do for fun, etc. After several minutes, it's apparent he has no intention of ending this conversation anytime soon. I smile and nod.

I start to give my exit signs like, facing my body another direction, sighing that "Okay gotta go" sigh, etc. He keeps asking me questions about life and the town and tells me about his life. Every time I'm about to turn and walk away, he asks another question and thoroughly explores each relevant tangent. When I finally find a pause in the conversation, I say "Okay I gotta get going, good luck finding that store." As I'm eagerly walking away, he says to me, "Can we exchange numbers?" I turn back to him briefly to reply "No, thanks," and walk away.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Oh, to be a bitch.

One thing I admire about some people is their resilience. I am twenty-seven years old, but part of me feels like a little girl. Always looking outside of herself for the approval of others. Sulking when criticized. Beaming when praised.

Oh, to be a bitch.

The bitch could give two shits about people's approval. If people kiss her ass, she shrugs. If people put her down, she shrugs. Constructive and warranted criticisms are duly noted. She doesn't dwell on what/how/why it went wrong. She takes it in and moves on. If people call her a bitch, she doesn't give a shit enough to even retort. She keeps on walking in high heel stiletto boots, planning her next move, ensuring her next success. If someone breaks her heart, she learns that a man with qualities x, y, and z is not the right man for her. She does grieve (after all she is human), but she maintains the belief that she will find someone good, someone right, someone deserving. When someone insults her, it never gets to her. She's too good for that. She is self-aware. She knows she's not perfect, but she knows what she's good at, works at it, and strives always to improve.

She is strong, she is relentless, she is confident and poised. She is a resilient woman. Never weak. Never defeated. Not a little girl.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

My first post.

They're words. But they don't leap off the page.
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