Serendipity

Hippity Hoppity New Year, Bitches

2012-01-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

January is in full force, and has settled in as such. The winter blues have been absorbed in my mind body and soul this year, as the decorations come down, and the holiday spirit quickly shifts back to the daily routines of ordinary living.

In Brooklyn, trees are still aglow, sales rage on, bells still jingle and people seem to have stayed relatively cheery, donning new coats and scarves they received from their loved ones over the Christmas flurry. People are still handing out peppermint hot chocolate and festive cheer blazes on. Then I get on the subway. The train rages under the East River, and a depression settles in almost immediately. We approach First Avenue, and the first round of office drones wander off, looking slightly sad, slightly hopeless, and totally bummed out. This continues through Third Avenue, Union Square, Sixth Avenue, as we reach our final destination, Eighth Avenue. Now we are deep in the heart of the winter doldrums. Side note: Does anyone else just picture that scene from The Phantom Tollbooth upon hearing the word “Doldrums”? The scene in which Milo enters that gooey green and gray swamp mess? Anyone?

Perhaps it’s my work location, but I see such a dire and drastic transformation in just a matter of days - from December 30th to January 3rd, it’s as if the magical holiday fairies pack their bags and peace the hell out of New York City. I am talking specifically about the scuttle of rush hour around 34th Street. The miracle clearly only lasts for the month of December, because come January 1st, that miracle has vanished. Lights are turned off and taken down; The fake cans of snow sprayed on the windows has been wiped clean; Bare Christmas trees line the streets, pieces of tinsel and red ribbon still clinging to the pine needles for dear life, grasping on to any semblance of joy they can find; Worst of all, everyone is back to their cranky-rush-hour scuttling and pushing. The holiday spirit has disappeared, and reappeared as what I am deeming the Grumpy Grinchiness of January. It’s totally depressing.

Sadly, I am also riding the Grumps of January train. I can’t quite place what it is that always puts me in such a funk come January 2nd (I enjoy my New Years Day, thank you very much). Maybe it’s the culmination of holidays – my birthday in the beginning of October, leading into the excitement and parties of Halloween, followed closely by Thanksgiving-Chanukah-Christmas-New Years and then…nothing. Martin Luther King Day is as good as it’s going to get this month folks. I mean hey, I’ll take my Monday off and go to some museums, along with the rest of NYC’s public school children whose parents don’t know what to do with them, but other that that, what is there to look forward too? Impending blizzards from what supposedly promises to be “The worst winter we’ve seen in years!” (I have yet to see a snowflake, Weather Channel)? We can hope for a snow day. Groundhog Day? Presidents Day? I no longer get a spring break, so that quickly moves us along to Memorial Day and July 4th, where we can at least enjoy glorious weather and bi-weekly beach trips. Then we’re sucked back into Fall, and it’s October again. Is this what we’ve become? Holiday-seeking beings, waiting for Hallmark to build us up, only to drop us back down come the new year? How exhausting

I constantly find myself wandering into our conference room, gazing out across the Hudson, hoping for a glance at the Ocean, reminding me that there is so much more out there than I can even begin to be aware of. Watching the boats and barges calms my restlessness, even if only momentarily, and allows me a reprieve to breath. It is a momentary respite from my daily routine that I seem to crave in increasing amounts. I’ve always been an ambitious person, and currently, I am lacking in that regard. While I have insight on part of why that is, I am constantly seeking answers for the remaining holes. Every year or so, when I am comfortable where I am, I become restless for the next step. It makes me wonder if anything will ever be enough for me – if I will ever be truly fulfilled with anything I do, as so far, nothing has entirely filled that gap. Of course I am only 26. No one is where they want to end up when they are 26…Right?

Starting off this New Year, I am happy with where I am. I very much like living in such an amazing and grand city where I can find and do pretty much anything I like whenever I want it. I am a product of the Sesame Street Generation, and this city caters to exactly that. I love my apartment (save for the lack of drawers in my kitchen – really?) and even more, the location of my apartment. It’s still hard being so far from friends, who continually do group activities my moving away has made me unable to partake in. I am in no way mad about that, however I can’t help but feel sad sometimes. I try to visit as much as I can, but finances are tough. I wish and ask for visitors, but I can’t ever seem to get anyone to come. It makes me question my friendship value, or wonder if people truly are just that busy all the time. Emailing and texting is so hard when unreciprocated, so it’s tough to keep up. Feeling constantly left out hurts more than I thought it would; Funny how things manifest themselves when left alone long enough to linger. I just feel like I no longer fit into any group of friends. Not from home, not from theatre, not from college, not from work – I find myself wondering where I fall.

Making new friends in this city is so difficult. I need to keep signing up for things like soccer, and dance classes, and hope I make a friend or two here or there. Maybe going back to school will also come with a new set of comrades. My graduate school prospects excite me – possibly taking the GRE’s does not. These are things I am still striving to figure out.

I am also excited about getting back into shape. I have definitely fallen off the exercise boat for a while now, so it’s time to get back on. I don’t just say this as a New Years resolution, as I never follow through with those anyway. I say this as a lifestyle change I’ve been meaning to make for some time – now is just as convenient a time as any (and now there are no excuses!). Switching gyms is going to help with that a lot. I’m looking forward to being able to walk 7 blocks from my apartment and be at my gym. Ah, the expediency of location continues to amaze me. I also threw away any “bad” food I had tempting me in my apartment, and replaced it with things like fruit, salad, nuts – the works. Obviously, eating habits don’t change overnight, but if I only surround myself with good choices, then I can only make good choices, right? Forcing habits works! Jeff also got me a dance card for the holidays, and I no longer have an excuse to not dance – especially since I find myself not doing the things that make me the happiest, like dance and theatre. I need to find my swing of those things here. One step at a time.

Usually, I find myself doing some sort of New Years Resolutions post around this point in the year – but I have decided against it this time around. Instead, I’m just going to continue on the path I’ve found myself on, and explore as many options and possibilities as I can gather. 2011 was a great year for me. It started out a little crappy, and was filled with ridiculous ups and downs – but it also found me in a place I really like, truly starting an independent life on my own. They say your twenties are when you really figure everything out, and I’m certainly finding that to be true. I’m excited to keep searching, finding, and exploring.

This year has started by dancing to live soul music at a 60’s themed dance party at The Bell House, followed by throwing up in a bar in Williamsburg, while the next week was met with frustration and feeling stagnate and idle in my place in life – and the week after found me eating in Little Italy, rocking to Karaoke in the village, and playing (and coming in second!) in my very first Poker tournament, lasting until 4am in Gowanus, Brooklyn with a group of people I had never met before, introducing me not only to a new game, but new music and new conversation as well. Welcome to my mid-late twenties I suppose. The year of 2012 awaits. I’m psyched.

What I Learned At Tennis Camp

2011-07-26T09:39:00.000-07:00

When I was in 7th grade (I think it was 7th grade), my Dad thought it would be a good idea to send me to a week long tennis camp. I think he thought it would be fun, and since I was relatively athletic and enjoyed playing sports like field hockey and soccer, that I would like tennis. Plus, we lived in rich, snooty Princeton, where everyone played tennis. Obviously, I needed to play to fit in.

The day consisted of playing tennis, playing tennis, playing more tennis (in the insane Jersey humid heat with no shade on said tennis courts, mind you), then taking an hour for lunch and watching old tennis matches in air conditioning (in which I would usually fall asleep because it was the most boring thing ever), and then (ready?), more tennis. From 8am until 4:30pm. Every. Day. What a stupid idea.

When placed in situations such as this, the least one can expect to gain (even when miserable) are some comrades to pass the time with, right? You can almost always find someone who is even more unhappy than you are at tennis camp. However, it seemed as though I ended up in the happiest tennis camp in the world, where everyone bonded over their passion for the lamest sport in the world (sorry to any and all tennis lovers out there, but I just don't get this sport).

I decided to try and make conversation with the girls I was grouped with (we were placed in groupings of 6). Unfortunately for me, the other 5 girls already knew each other, and were not too keen on getting stuck with the miserable (and now highly sun-burnt - I'm paler than a vampire) newbie. That's fair, I suppose - I mean, I get it, you go to camp with your friends, you want to hang out with your friends - but is it necessary to be horrible nasty bitches to the nice little new camper? No, no it is not. That, however, is precisely what happened.

And these girls weren't typical mean girls. These girls? Well, they were tennis girls, which apparently are the worst kind. These girls picked on me like there was no tomorrow (which there was, because they picked on me then, too). They made fun of my clothing, they pulled my hair, they sat at a table across from me at lunch and threw pieces of food into my hair and into my drink, they giggled and pointed and laughed, and they told the other girls I was a lesbian, and that they should stay away from me because I might try to hit on them (so of course, the other girls did). As the week wore on, the teasing got worse, and I began to beg my parents not to send me back to camp. My Dad didn't understand why I couldn't handle a couple of mean little girls, and my Mom gave me the worst bully advice ever that all parents, at one point or another, tell their children - "Just ignore them; they are probably just jealous of you because you're so wonderful". Complimenting your children (which while kids are little, is sort of just complimenting yourself, parentals) does not make bullies stop bullying.

Thursday of my awful week came around, and I walked into camp, armed with my "ignoring" technique, and was greeted with a giant hug from one of the bitches - she was the chubby one out of the group, so I thought perhaps she had been ousted as well. She spent the entire day being nice to me - she sat with me at lunch, she talked to me, asked me questions about myself, told me how pretty my hair was - was I making a friend?! I was instantly happy. Suddenly, tennis camp didn't seem so bad! And maybe, she would talk to her bitchy friends and tell them how now that she had gotten to know me, I was actually awesome, and we could all be friends! Oh happy day (I wasn't really that ecstatic or pathetically hopefully, but let's say I was, for dramatic effect)! I went home with a renewed sense of self, and a lot more confidence. I couldn't wait until the next day, when I could expand my group of friends, exchange phone numbers, and leave tennis camp for good.

Unfortunately, I got to camp the next day to find that Chubby Magee had been toying with me the whole time, and had gone back to the evil wenches and told them everything I had said, thus fueling their making-fun-of-me fire. Awesome. I spent my last day of camp faking period cramps and sitting in the shade of a far away tree, reading my book and watching the girls from soccer camp play their final games. I ate lunch by myself, and hid out in the bathrooms during our video hour. When my mom picked me up, she asked how my last day of camp had gone. I told her if she ever sent me back to tennis camp, I would shave my head and tattoo something obscene on my face. They never sent me back.

The moral of the story? Kids are assholes. And that is what I learned at tennis camp.

Charities and Opera Houses

2011-04-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

Is it considered a shameless plug if it's for charity? I think not.

I am extremely excited about this: in2books

in2books is an incredible volunteer literacy program I signed up for (thanks for the amaze balls suggestion, Cara!), that connects adult volunteers with 3rd-5th grade students from under resourced communities via ePals, an internet pen pal program. In a nutshell: You read 5 books selected by the students over the course of a school year, and write a letter (an email, in our super advanced society) about said book to your student pen pal, discussing the themes and important issues in the story they have selected. It's a super easy way to help out and make a difference in a child's life - a child who may not have had the opportunity to read as many books, or be able to talk about what they're reading. Each book is chosen from a different category (Realistic Fiction, Social Science, Biography, Folktales, and Science), and each title is chosen by the students themselves. How great does this sound? Great, right? It's great.

In other news: I went to the Stephen Schwartz tribute concert tonight at the New York City Opera, aptly named "Defying Gravity". It was also, in fact, amaze balls (overused in tonights entry, yes). While I was already in love with the adorable Kritsin Chenoweth (especially after working with her at the Drama Desk Awards - another story for another time) and her impeccable comedic timing and spontaneity, and while I was also already obsessed with Raul Esparza's wet-my-pants-amazing voice, I now have new found admiration for Victor Garber, Ann Hampton Callaway (who, for the record, wrote and sang the theme song for The Nanny, what?!), Lauren Flanigan, and Todd Wilander. OH, and Stephen Schwartz, who finished up the night playing and singing "For Good" with the fabulous Ms. Chenoweth, who cried her eyes out as the song progressed. And was I not completely floored by Esparza and Garber's Godspell medley (shout out, Godspell cast - it was incredible and made me miss you), and Esparza singing Defying Gravity himself? I believe I was. Holy Bazooka Joe, Batman. The best $12.00 I have ever spent (aside from the $1.75 Happy Meal toy I purchased at McDonald's today, don't judge me).

"The Latest Silly Man Trends"

2011-04-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

Nope. Absolutely not. I am not on board with the latest fashion "trend" pouring out into the streets of Manhattan. I put trend in quotations for the following reasons: 1. It's thoroughly disturbing, 2. I refuse to acknowledge it as being such, and 3. If you are my friend, and I see you partaking in this eyesore? We will not be friends any longer. I'd say this is the epitome of an instant deal breaker. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Meggings (not to be confused with Jeggings or, my personal favorite, Pajama Jeans).

Don't get me wrong - I am all for equality and freedom of expression and professing your inner fashion diva, but this? I just got used to skinny jeans. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, I feel as though we can agree on these guidelines:

1. The outline of the male member should be obscured while wearing meggings (ladies - same for you and your camel toe. I mean, let's get real. No one wants to see that).

2. The wearer of said meggings should not be seen also wearing tacky sweaters. Not okay.

3. You should try your hardest not to look like a medieval cartoon while wearing said meggings.

I don't even think body size is an arguable issue - even overweight men can have killer legs, so it's a moot point. Regardless, this doesn't settle (what should now be) the age old question: Is it ever acceptable to wear meggings, even if you look good in them? Sorry men, most would say no. As much as we women enjoy your thicket of sex, I don't think anyone wants to see it wrapped in spandex.

New York Fashion's article describes it magnificently and with dead on accuracy:

Stylesight has been noticing a lot of men in leggings lately, and kindly e-mailed us the above snapshots. Apparently meggings have been pouring into the streets of New York, Paris, London, and Tokyo since last year. Men wear them year-round as a fun way to practice layering, mix up everyday proportions, and stay warm. It was only a matter of time before men discovered what Lindsay Lohan discovered about leggings long ago — that they are awesome, extremely versatile, and even more fabulous in leopard print. Well, it's probably too soon to confirm that last part, but men will inevitably branch into new colors and patterns. All kinds of meggings have been popular on the men's runways for seasons. Because whatever women fall in love with, men will inevitably fall in love with some years later, like manpris, mirdles, or short shorts, to name a few. And of course increasingly tight pants are sweeping through the male community faster than you can say, "Can Zac Efron even sit down in those?" Meggings offer the stretch he needs.

Men, take note - if you must partake in this hideous fashion faux pas, wear your meggings to your hearts desire. I beg you, just keep it locked up under the bed with your teddy bear and porn. Maybe not even there.

True Friendship

2011-03-30T20:13:00.001-07:00

Tiffany: You slore.
Hilary: Slut plus whore?
Tiffany: EXACTLY
Hilary: Solid.

Bookie Wookie

2011-03-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

Childrens books that were, sadly, never written, according to members of The Wedding Singer Cast (and thanks, largely in part, to Loaded Questions, the new best game ever)

- Why Your Teacher Should Be Black
- Hello Little Girl, Want Some Candy From My Car?
- Touching Teachers
- Sex, For First Graders
- Little Timmy Learns to Blow
- We Rub Our Pee-Pees Together
- Lick My Balls: The Untold Story of Lassie

Kim: Hilary, is this going to be a blog?
Hilary: Pft. No.

Tee Hee

2011-03-21T19:54:00.000-07:00

Peep Show. Love me some non-Jew holidays.

Christina (via FB chat in the next room): Can I come to you and fake slap you so I can get five dollars from Matt? (who was FB chatting her on the couch next to her). Don't tell him.

Hilary: So what, you're asking to come in here, slap your hands together, and for me to scream 'WHAT THE FUCK, CHRISTINA?!'

Christina: Yeah.

Hilary: Okay. But you owe me ten dollars for this.

Christina: Deal. Wait no. You get nothing.

5 minutes later

Christina slaps hands together

Hilary: WHAT THE FUCK, CHRISTINA!?

Christina: Matt, give me five dollars.

Matt: ...but I don't have five dollars... wait, where did you slap her?

A New Show!

2011-03-16T19:18:00.000-07:00

Disenchanted: Bitches of the Kingdom

William Paterson University

June 2011

I'm pretty pumped, yo.

Eating In Connecticut

2011-03-14T18:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I took a much needed impromptu road trip up to Wallingford Connecticut to visit my dear friend and former college roommate Tiffany. Tiffany and I met my very first semester of college. We bonded over playing little boys in Great Expectations - her being cast as Young Pip, and I, Young Herbert (and also Clara - who, if you are familiar with the story, later marries Herbert. I married my future self. Solid) - and had to have a ridiculous fist fight on stage, dressed as frilly little boys. Needless to say, I got my ass kicked, and thus a friendship was born.

This is Tiffany and I in our last show together in college (she was Hermia in Midsummer, and I was Viola in Twelfth Night)

Tiffany and I also worked at the campus Writing Center together, along with an array of some pretty awesome characters. Jeff, for example, would walk around campus with a paper bag over his head, pretend to fall, and have "break-up fights" with Tiffany in the Atrium lobby while students and professors looked on. There was also Phoebe, who was an incredible poet, Pablo, who would sit at the front desk playing guitar, and Dreadlock John, who had dreadlocks and made up songs about Zombies while eating Cap'n Crunch and peanut butter. Now, Jeff is a lawyer, Phoebe is married and lives in Florida, Pablo moved back to Venezuela, and Dreadlock John is a teacher who cooks, records music in a studio, and inspires children every day. He also dates Tiffany, who cut off his dreadlocks. When did we become adults? I miss the Writing Center and it's eccentric collection of misfit toys. But I digress. Back to Connecticut.

I drove up Friday night, and arrived in the cute, exactly-what-you-would-expect-Connecticut-to-be-like-town of Wallingford. Tiffany and I settled on Iron Chef, a sushi and hibachi joint just down the road, where we indulged in hibachi goodness, salmon and steak, and the yummiest ginger dressing and fried rice I've ever had. This is what it would look like if I had remembered to take a picture of us eating:

Next, we stopped at a Friendlys to get fat. It was awesome.

We also stopped at Walmart (yuck), where we picked up Funglish (which we ended up not playing, though I'm sure she will enjoy for years to come), and I bought an extension cord. Exciting, right? You're jealous. We ended our evening by staying up until about 3am watching the first 8 episodes of Arrested Development. If you haven't watched this show, I suggest you download Netflix and get on it. I don't know if a TV show has ever made me laugh this much. Aside from maybe Modern Family.

The following day, after sleeping until noon, we took my car in to get the headlights replaced (they went out on my drive up - I know this because after 9 people flashed their high beams at me, I figured something was up. Oops). $72.00 later (ugh), we went out to lunch, and enjoyed this fabulous treat:

See that side noodle salad? Awesome. They also accompanied my sandwich with an olive tapenade instead of a balsamic dressing. Score.

Once we finished lunch, Tiffany introduced me to my new favorite sport: Duckpin Bowling! It is apparently only around in New England and Maryland, but it's really quite fun! See:

After bowling (and doing pretty well for a first timer, if I do say so myself - a 120 in Duckpin is equivalent to a 200 in normal bowling, so judge accordingly, please), we grabbed a bottle of wine (and three Absolut shots), and went food shopping for pizza and brownie ingredients. We returned to Tiffany's apartment, watched, and cooked this delicious sucker:

(before)

(after)

YUM.

We also made brownies with thin mint cookies sprinkled on top, and ice cream on the side. I would have taken pictures of that, but we ate it too quickly. We then spent the rest of the night watching all of season 1 of Arrested Development, drinking wine, eating our bangin' homemade pizza and brownies, and doing my taxes (shout out - THANKS TIFF!).

(she is so sexy when she does my taxes)

All in all, a fabulous weekend. I think it was just what we each needed - a chance to catch up with each other, take a break from our real lives, clear our heads, and eat a ton of food. While daylight savings time really threw me for a loop and I woke up entirely exhausted, I feel refreshed and recharged, in a way. Sometimes it's just important to get away, even if it isn't far, and come back with a new outlook on things. Tiffany has always been that friend that I can bounce myself off of, and get the real deal in return. I'm so thankful for her friendship, and the fact that we have been able to keep in touch and stay close, despite living a few states away.

Now, back to the land of subways and skateboards, graffiti and bicycles, laundromats and Mexicans and double bolted iron bars. I love New York.

The Things We Talk About

2011-03-14T07:44:00.000-07:00

Rachel: I just found a Cheerio in my Ugg. Just wanted to tell someone.
Hilary: Do you eat a lot of Cheerios?
Rachel: No not really. It was odd.
Hilary: Maybe an elf put it there.
Rachel: Or a gnome.

Ten minutes later

Rachel: Send me Kelsey's number you oreo.
Rachel: I went to call you a whoreo, and it autocorrected to oreo.

Bursting With Pride

2011-03-08T18:46:00.000-08:00

I am proud of all my friends this week.

First and foremost, my roommate, Matt. He is an aspiring actor (you may have seen him as President Duck), oddly obsessed with Carol Channing (he may or may not have a Carol Channing ventriloquist dummy - it's scary), and has way too much time on his hands. But dammit, he makes me laugh:

Allow me to share the newest YouTube sensation, or as we over at Kelsey Theatre like to call her, "Chelsea". She finally hit it big, kids (she's actually got a great voice!), all thanks to some wisdom teeth, a camera, and some killer Novocaine:

My friend Kyrus has become obsessed with Charlie Sheen. This is his final straw. Funny funny entertainment:

Left In Brooklyn

2011-03-07T19:34:00.000-08:00

I wrote this about 4 or 5 months ago, but then never posted it. I have since looked at it a few times, but never really had the [balls] to publish it. I came across it tonight when I was looking through my cover letters, and decided that, now that months have passed, I could put it up without regret. Maybe I should have posted it back in October. Regardless, here it is. About 5 months too late.

You threw me away when you left me in Brooklyn.

You came to my apartment, and sat on my bed - a bed that has seen two break ups, two shattered ideals, and hundreds of tears, in two very different worlds with two very different women. You lied, you fought, you insisted, and you begged. You pleaded and held my hands, avoiding eye contact to the end. You fell asleep holding me, reassuring me, while I ached with a new reality, and my heart caved within itself.

I walked from 34th street to Central Park. It was cold and windy, and I wasn’t wearing a warm enough jacket. I walked through mud and trees, past benches, bridges and horse drawn carriages, half frozen puddles of melted snow and dripping icicles, temporarily abandoned playgrounds and swings, swaying empty in the chilly breeze. I climbed a rock by the southwest entrance facing Columbus Circle and nothing. I sat on the frozen mound, stuck headphones in my ears, and closed my eyes.

I listened to my indie rock, you listed to your classic mix, your Billy Joel, Led Zeppelin, DMB with Guster hope. I am not your Dreamgirl or your Mona Lisa. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I’m sorry I was unable to express it any more there than I could here, or that I didn’t react appropriately to your gestures of courtship. While the kindness may have been looked upon with appreciation, I could not encourage such behavior. And I was completely out of straws. My glass was almost empty anyway.

A mother and her two boys played on the tarmac below me. A scruffy man in his twenties ran laps around the baseball field. I let myself cry for about a minute, stopping before the tears absorbed the mascara and ran with it down my cheeks. I can be strong, too.

I always found it funny when you insisted the Indigo Girls were phenomenally exceptional songwriters. Maybe you stored your Doc Martins under your sisters bed, along with your secret identity, super hero mask, and hidden girlfriend(s). I feel tarnished for ever having been a part of your secrets.

I walked past the carousel - a favorite of my sisters, surrounded by tulips and daisies all summer long - now covered in water-stained brick, rusted chain fences, and fallen tree branches. I walked past couples holding hands, drinking coffee and laughing to each other, sharing inside jokes and moments of pure love and genuine happiness. I left the park.

I never saw you again. I see you occasionally. I see you all the time. We never speak. Our phone calls are sparse, yet meaningful. I can’t talk to you. If given the chance, I would still look you in the eye and tell you what you did, hoping for you to finally understand - I now embrace knowing that you never will. I gave you time, you gave me time, and we found each other in the right times and the wrong times all over again. I’m not sure how I will ever escape you.

Maybe I was never where my heart wanted me to be. Maybe I always have been. I have always been certain that every person who has come into my life has entered for a reason. Sometimes they stay, sometimes they leave, and sometimes they don’t even leave so much as a tire mark (cue cheesy metaphor: on the pavement that is life, whoa). And I may never share this. Would anyone be interested in the scattered thoughts of a twenty-something girl with dreams far exceeding the limits predetermined by the life surrounding her? Getting people to read anything I write proves difficult enough. Let’s be honest, reader - you’re here for one of 3 reasons:

You don’t like me all that much, but since you are my Facebook friend and I sometimes link this to my profile, you want to follow me and see what I’m doing. We’re all guilty of it, including myself.
You want me to post something juicy. Spoiler alert: I don’t know anything juicy. Ever.
You genuinely enjoy what I have to say.

My point here is this: I started this to write without limitations, then found myself doing nothing but that - limiting myself, and censoring my own thoughts, knowing who my audience was. Sort of defeats the purpose, no? I would be interested to see what would happen were I to send this out to the world wide inter web.

So here goes. Nothing but unadulterated me, I suppose. Could be fun.

Some Things Are Necessities

2011-03-07T09:10:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty positive I need to own this:

What People Must Think When They Hear These Things

2011-03-02T17:39:00.001-08:00

Steph: See that? His collar is popped. Preppy. Like you.
Hilary: I am not preppy.
Steph: You're a little preppy.
Hilary: How am I preppy?
Steph: You own polos. You dress well. You look down on people with unintentional non-designer holes in their jeans. And you're from Princeton.
Hilary: You are also from Princeton.
Steph: I am also a little preppy.
Hilary: Most of this is untrue.
Steph: I'm choosing to ignore that.
Hilary: Don't you have to be rich to be preppy?
Steph: It's a state of mind. You can take the girl out of Princeton, but you can't take the Princeton out of the girl.
Hilary: You're kind of a bitch.
Steph: Ding Ding! Preppy bitch! And a cultural snob with big boobs.
Hilary: What makes one a cultural snob?
Steph: I don't know, preppy bitch, shut up and listen to the hot gay men sing.
Hilary: ....my boobs are not that big.

Doppelganger?

2011-03-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

This evening, I was told by a sales associate at Express that I looked like Lady Gaga. Exact conversation went as such:

Sales Associate: Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Lady Gaga?
Hilary: I'm sorry?
Sales Associate: You look like Lady Gaga. Only without all the crazy shit on her face.
Hilary: Is that a good thing?
Sales Associate: You seen Lady Gaga? Yeah it's a good thing.
Hilary: Well thanks. I think.

This upset me very much, mainly because Lady Gaga without "all the crazy shit on her face" looks like this:

Hi. This looks nothing like me. Especially the whole blond hair thing. For real, sales man? You blind.

This made me go back to what is my (not exactly even close to) ultimate dilemma: Who is my doppelganger? This question initially arose about a year ago, when everyone on Facebook changed their profile picture to that of their own doppelgangers. I did not have one (well. I did - I'm just still in denial about it. More on that later). I remember asking people who they thought I looked like, but no one could really give me a decent answer. Apparently I look like Matt's friend Megan because she also has "a big nose" (I do not have a big nose). I have never seen Megan. Therefore, I decided to combine the suggestions I was given, and see what they had in common. Aside from being white with dark hair, I don't think I look anything like most of these people. But here goes.

I been told I look like Michelle Branch. Who I believe (and I may be mistaken about this) is part Native American. I am not that. Jews don't look like Native Americans. Sorry guys.

Do I appreciate being compared to Anne Hathaway? Yes, thank you. However, aside from my having large features on a relatively small head and similar coloring, I don't know that there are many true similarities between us.

Then there are the fictional, and more obvious (and slightly wishful) comparisons - Snow White, and Wonder Woman. They both have shiny dark hair, and are white as ghosts. They are also cartoons/comics, as I clearly am.

But alas. I am forced to own up to what I have always known to be true. My true doppelganger, despite all my denial, my embarrassment, is none other than Lunette. The clown from The Big Comfy Couch.

That's right, I look like a giant ass freckled childrens show clown who talks to a puppet with giant ears, and lives on a giant piece of furniture with big, poofy hair, drawn-on freckles, and a shirt with bananas or moons or something on it. Gross.

The Moment I Said It

2011-02-28T19:59:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've ever posted any of my choreography up here - so I thought I'd give it a shot. This is a piece I choreographed in the summer of 2009. What started out as an emotional roller coaster coming out of a serious relationship and months of heartache turned into a productive and, what I like to think, successful work. As with all of my dances, I look back and want to change a million things, but I wouldn't touch the amount of raw emotion these kids put into the piece of my heart I opened for them. If I had had 3 months, this would have been one of five numbers - but alas, I only had 4 weeks to teach and perfect.

With that, I hope you enjoy, and I apologize for the poor video quality.

Choreographed by Hilary Goldman

Music by Imogen Heap

No copyright infringement intended

And this was from 2 years prior:

Choreograped by Hilary Goldman
Music by Queen
No copyright infringement intended

Here's The Thing

2011-02-22T10:37:00.000-08:00

I find the topic I am about to divulge into comes up a lot – specifically, with me, and in my writing here – but here I am again, ready to tackle it.

The only way to maintain your sense of self is to stay true to yourself, yes? Well, what if you do, and it doesn’t make a difference? I could keep my mouth shut, but that would be going against my nature to talk incessantly (not necessarily something I’m proud of, but I’ve learned to embrace). I spent the first 17 years of my life not talking. Anyone who knew me from age 5 on knew me as that quiet girl in the corner with big eyes who would always speak up when spoken to, but would say very little in between. My best friends had my undivided attention over my teachers during school hours, and while notes and whispers were shared nonstop, I always kept to myself and my friends. I had dance classes and sports to express myself and vent, so I didn’t need much else. I always had my 3 or 4 close friends, and while most people liked me, I was never popular – I’ll never know if it was by my choice and opting for silence, or if my hair just wasn’t shiny enough. That, and while my family was never in financial trouble, we lived in a ridiculously wealthy town I never quite fit in to. The friendships I maintained sometimes suffered, as I was occasionally referred to by my peers as being “bossy” when in groups of 2 or 3. I’m more than positive this is accurate, as even now, I like to be in control of situations.

As I got older, and started reaching the awkward middle school phase of my life, I started to get picked on – and I got picked on a lot. So much so that even now, it’s sometimes tough for me to talk about. This, no doubt, aided in my overall silence, and continued until I really started participating in theatre. I enjoyed high school, but it wasn’t until college that I really came out of my shell. Since then, I am often found, to put it bluntly, talking. Maybe the years of not speaking my mind have caught up with me, or maybe I just have a lot to say – either way, I talk a lot. It’s not that I talk just because I like the sound of my own voice - but I like to think that I have things of interest to say, and I am no longer afraid of expressing myself, or voicing my opinion. If people don’t like it or if things I say have an impact on whether or not a person likes me, then so be it. At least I’m being honest and true to myself.

That being said, I feel the need to reiterate a point I have made before: I am not a liar. I never have been, and I never will be. There was a time in my life where I was lost and searching desperately to fit in somewhere – anywhere – and in that time, I would absolutely tell people what I thought they wanted to hear. I take full responsibility for that time, and, again, I am not proud of it – but I am human, and we all make mistakes. However, outside of that brief stint of insecurity and desperation, I consider myself to be a straightforward and sincere person. Not everyone seems to agree. While I don’t think I have ever been doubted on my sincerity, I have often been accused of being a liar, or of simply making things up. This sometimes comes from my keeping certain things to myself. For example, I don’t often share information from my personal life or my romantic life with everyone I come into contact with. I just don’t always feel the need. Plus it’s hard to trust when you’ve been burned so many times before. I’ve opened up to people in the past, and been royally screwed. Or I’ve shared details of my personal life and then had then shared amongst other friends (not cool). It sometimes leads me to believe that there is no one I can truly trust. Then there are times when I’ve been overly honest (is there such a thing?), and entirely candid about a situation or event, and that has also backfired. All of this leads me to believe that it’s hard to find a happy medium between sharing too much, and not giving enough.

Am I over thinking this all? Most likely. Yet I believe I have reason to do so. While I know my friends like me, I also know there have been conversations (most likely far in the past, but conversations nonetheless) about me and my reliability – which is not a good feeling to have, nor is it a feeling one should have. Even this past weekend, when referred to as “a really great liar” by someone with whom I have been nothing but completely truthful with, I felt a great deal of hurt. While part of me wants to address the issue, another part of me wonders if it’s worth the energy. People will think what they want to think sometimes, regardless of truth. As the awful saying goes, you can’t get blood from a stone. And I can’t get people to believe in me if they don’t want to.

Perhaps this is a battle I will never win. Maybe everyone goes through this, or similar insecurities (or is it just me?) regarding how they are perceived. However, I know who I am. I know when I’m honest and when I’m not, and I know when to keep my mouth shut – if doing so makes me a bad person, than so be it. I know I’m sincere and honest, and direct when need be, and I will not be forgiving for that. I have been lied to, cheated on, and mislead more times than I can count – I would never do that to someone else.

And that’s all I got. Rant over.

The Wedding Singer!

2011-02-17T11:31:00.000-08:00

There is still one more weekend! Come check out the 80's with great music and dancing, drag queens, and parachute pants. You know you wanna...

For more information, check out the info, here: http://nj.broadwayworld.com/article/Kelsey_Theatre_Presents_THE_WEDDING_SINGER_20010101

Stupid Takes On A Whole New Level

2011-02-07T12:00:00.000-08:00

I know it sounds boring, but when I consume alcohol, I tend to drink it - be it from a glass, a bottle, or through a twisty straw. Sounds pretty reasonable, right? Apparently, that's not enough anymore for those crazy teenagers and young college students, who are finding new and interesting ways to get their drink on, using new and interesting orifices to do it, to say the least.

Now yes, this topic may be slightly older, but it was just this past weekend when I learned of “eyeball shots”. Yes, you read correctly. An eyeball shot is just as it sounds - a shot of alcohol you take with your (wait for it) eye. You simply hold a shot glass (or, to be extra classy, the mouth of a bottle) up to your eye socket, lean back, and voila! Insta-drunk! Alcohol is absorbed best through mucous membranes, and according to college students in England, since the eyeball and eyelids are covered in said membranes, it is the fastest way to get drunk. Really? Personally, I think it sounds like the fastest way to sting your eyes and go blind.

According to opthomologists, this practice not only can cause permanent damage to the surface of the eye, but it will hurt like crazy. Oh, and it doesn’t even work. That’s right. Those kiddies may think they’re rocking a drunken high, but really, they’re just stupid. Seriously. Type in “Eyeball Shots” on YouTube, and enjoy hours of dummies being super cool.

Another rad practice consists of pouring vodka into an asthma atomizer or inhaler, and snorting it. Guess what that does? Nothing but burn your sinuses. Cool!

I have, however, saved my personal favorite for last. According to my extensive internet research, this technique was first rumored to exist back in 1999 – but who’s keeping track. Ladies, this one’s for you! Did you know that you can now soak a tampon in vodka and insert it inside of yourself to get buzzed (vaginal mucous membranes anyone)? That’s right! It doesn’t work, but I’ll give someone ten dollars to try it (not). I can only begin think of why a person would maybe even consider doing this; Maybe to avoid the smell of booze on ones breath? To perhaps avoid the nausea and post party blues? None of these seem like justifiable reasons to shove a soaking wet tampon up your who-ha. And how someone would do this is another story all together. It just sounds uncomfortable.

I personally enjoy this quote, which I think sums up the current generation quite well, taken from an article written in USA Today:

What has changed is that the Internet now allows stupid behaviors to be amplified in ways they couldn't easily be before, Lyons says. For example, there's no epidemic of students punching themselves in the face, but there are more than 20 videos of youths doing so online.

Pure genius. Who wants to go buy some vodka and tampons?!

Daily Advice

2011-02-04T05:41:00.000-08:00

Dina: Hilary, you need to spice up your love life. See this scratch on my eye? Carras hit me with in the face with a slice of pizza. See? We keep it real.
Annie: And totally not weird.
Dina: Exactly.

Rainy Days and Mondays. Or Tuesdays.

2011-02-01T10:52:00.000-08:00

Rain always makes me one of the following things:

1. Stir crazy
2. Feel the need to put on galoshes (yup, galoshes) and jump in puddles, or
3. Overly contemplative. Today is a 3 kind of day.

I was told today that I don't know what love is. Maybe that's true. Maybe no one truly knows what "love" is, until they are in it. Even still, how can one person determine whether or not anyone else feels it or not? Isn't love one of those feelings that is different for each and every individual? Emotions are only emotions because of the way they effect people, and can really only be determined by the severity in which one feels them. I've always felt as though feelings and emotions can't necessarily be exactly defined because they are so personal and unique to each person that it is hard to pin point exactly what the "definition" of one is. Sure, when a person is happy they feel good - but happiness means something different to everyone. The way a person expresses oneself is specific to them, not to the dictionaries determination. It aggravates me that, knowing this, people still pass judgement on other peoples reactions and interpretations. Some people are more or less sensitive than others, and therefore react differently to situations in which someone else may feel is either ridiculous or not severe enough. Who are we to judge how someone feels? In addition, it's not always about intent, but perception. Sometimes what you say may be interpreted differently than what you initially meant. I just don't see why people can't just be honest and forward, and say what they mean. Maybe I'm too harsh.

My ultimate point here? Just jumbles of words mindlessly floating. It's topics like this, and being called out on something I maybe once questioned that remind me of who I am, and what I believe. I spent so long being unsure - of myself, and of everything in my life - only to come to the conclusion that nothing is certain or finite. Things change in an instant, and there isn't always a way to be prepared for them. I put too much stake in people and events, and allow too much meaning to be placed on words and emotions. I don't know if it's good or bad, but it's me. Being aware of it helps me put things in perspective, and realize when I'm maybe being ridiculous or on point. What I've learned from it all is simply not to judge others on their emotions. Sometimes, there is simply no right or wrong. And I'm okay with who I am. Learning and growing. What total cheese.

An Assortment of Thought Processes

2011-01-26T11:27:00.000-08:00

Rachel: I wanna play a Dynamite.
Hilary: Rachel, you can't. You're too white to play a dynamite.
Rachel: I could get that Michael Jackson disease, only backwards...
Hilary: ...

How is it that I have been living in the city for 5 months, seen 8 Broadway shows, gotten trashed at blockheads, gone on a city-wide scavenger hunt, walked through Central Park 50 times, and haven't yet been to a museum or gone ice skating?

Yesterday was a terrible day. I literally had a misunderstanding with every single person I came into contact with. Except for Brooke, but that's mainly because I don't think she listens to a thing I say.

I take the same train at about the same time to work every morning. It is almost always packed, and I almost never see the same people (which is astonishing to me - I pay attention to people, and there are rarely repeats). This morning, as I was getting on the train, my book slipped out of my hand in my usual semi-klutzy demeanor and slid along the ground, just about falling into the space between the platform and the train. Before I had a moment to even react and go after the book, another train passenger grabbed for it, saving said book from it's gruesome fate. I was slightly taken aback by this gesture, seeing as how ever since I moved into the city, the main thing I've noticed is how self absorbed people here can be. Everyone walks on their own line with their own agenda, and it's up to you to move out of the way, lest you get trampled. People don't hold doors for you as often, or tell you when you've dropped your scarf - and yet here was this man practically throwing himself on the ground to save my crappy little four dollar paperback, and almost getting closed out of the subway car. I pushed myself into the door to hold the train, and the man stood up, handed me my book, and gave me the friendliest smile I've seen all winter. He nodded his head as I thanked him, and that was that.

Continuing on the subject of subways, there is a man who works a newsstand at the 14th street station who is always wearing ivory-colored gloves. I would normally assume that this was being done for one of two reasons: 1. It's cold, and/or 2. He doesn't want to handle money with his bare hands. However, this morning, I noticed that his gloves were still ivory in color, but the palms were entirely red, as well as some of the fingertips. So now, I think he's wearing gloves to cover his tracks from all the people he must murder under the ground in the 14th street subway stop. He probably hides the bodies chopped up in all the crates stacked up in the corner. Or maybe I should watch a little less Law and Order.

My winter coat is big and poofy and white - essentially, I take warmth in a giant marshmallow. It isn't a-lined or cinched at the waist like I would have preferred, but it keeps me warm. I did not, however, take into consideration how dirty a white coat can get when riding subways. While last year, my jacket remained a pristine glowing white from winters' beginning to end, this year, I want to dip it in paint so it doesn't look gross anymore. The lesson I have learned here? The subways are dirty, and owning a white coat is not ideal. I would buy a new one, but I just cannot justify spending money on something that I already own, and that serves its purpose. Next year: those neon coats the NYPD wear.

I desperately need to get over my pet peeve of hearing people chew food, because it's beginning to take an unbearable turn for the worse. I've actually gotten accustomed to muting the television whenever the Kit-Kat commercial comes on. It's like my own personal hell. Strap me to a horse on a deserted island with only caffeinated soda, potato salad, and the sound of people chewing their food, and it's all over.

Want to know what not to wear? Go to Kmart for their bad eighties couture. Eesh.

My Top Ten

2011-01-24T08:30:00.000-08:00

Dating is hard, and no one is going to tell you otherwise. This statement has been said to me multiple times over the past few months. Guess what? It’s true. I realize now that I have always been a relationship girl – not that I’ve had that many, but the ones I did have lasted substantial and notable lengths. Now, for the first time, I find myself entirely single (and ready to mingle?), and actually ready to go out and meet people. Problem is: I don’t really know how – because I’ve never really done it.

I never truly dated in high school, and spent practically all of college in one serious relationship. From there, I went into another semi-serious situation, and then into another just a few months after that. Between each relationship, I had a very hard time putting myself out there – so I didn’t, and I either let people come to me, or I stayed single.

Now, I am in a very different place in my life, and I’m ready to see what’s out there. I’m ready to discover the things I do and don’t want in a person, and in a relationship. I’m ready to explore my options, have some fun, and see where this road takes me. So far, it has taken me on some crappy first (and last) dates. That is not to say that I haven’t had some good experiences, because I have – but the bad ones are funnier, and worth sharing. It is with that that I present to you my top ten list of worst first dates ever. Enjoy.

Top Ten Worst First Dates of Ever

10. The “I’m out with a guy just like my Dad” Date. Relatively perfect on paper. He liked what I liked, was into seeing theatre and going on museum trips, and loved the outdoors. We liked the same movies and music (including Wet Hot American Summer – so points there), he was highly intelligent, fluent in 7 languages, well traveled, spent a year in China, six months in Nicaragua, the works. We met at a bar, where he awkwardly bought me a drink, and we sat and talked for a few hours. He was a little ill at ease, but talked about as much as I did (a rarity, we all know), told some slightly un-funny jokes that I laughed at, and had a lot of interesting things to say. As the night wore on, I kept thinking to myself There is something weird about this date, but I couldn’t quite place it. We left the bar, and rode the subway a few stops. When we hit his, he gave me the awkward “first date hug” - barely touching me - said he’d like to do it again sometime (to which I responded “Yeah, sure, definitely”, because what else do you say?), and left. On my walk home from the subway, I tried to analyze the evening and figure out why I didn’t really dig this guy even a little bit. It wasn’t until I got to work the next morning that it hit me. The awkward gestures, the un-funny jokes, the complete nerdiness he possessed – I went on a date with my Dad in his twenties. Whoa. Game over.

9. The “Overbearing Can’t Take a Hint” Date. This one was relatively minor, but still ridiculous. A friend gave my email to a friend of his, saying he was great, and we should talk a little. I obliged, and after receiving a quick email from him, I sent a quick one in return. He hastily responded (we’re talking ten minutes), asking to meet up for a drink. I, again, gave in, despite my reservations about being set up, and went. We were there for maybe an hour, and in that time I was asked when I wanted to get married, how many kids I wanted, where I wanted to live, how many guys I had slept with, and if I saw this going anywhere. After an hour. I excused myself to the bathroom, texted a friend to call me immediately with an “emergency”, and left. The next day, I received 3 emails, all sent within an hour of each other, asking me what happened, when we could meet up again, and “was it something I said?” I blocked his email, and told my friend that if he ever gave any of my personal information out again, I would cut him.

8. The “We’re totally not ready for this” Date. This date was just bad, and for no other reason than both parties involved had just gotten out of serious relationships, and were really in no place to be dating yet. We went to dinner and a show, followed by meeting up with some mutual friends for drinks. Most of the conversation centered on his ex, and his telling me what a bitch she was. I listened, while spacing out and thinking about my own break up, and wondering what my ex was doing at the exact moment I was out on this awkward venture (the word “date” barely applies). It was awkward, then it was over, and that was that. Good times.

7. The “Hook Up” Date. This homie just wanted bootay, and it was summer and I was single, so I indulged myself – plus he was going abroad for a year starting in the fall, so it was perfect, no? No. It started off fine, but ended with him asking me to be his girlfriend – which was not part of the deal. I started to get long winded emails and phone calls, personal stories, text messages, the works. When I told him I didn’t want to date him, he flipped out, cursed me off, and vowed to never speak to me every again. And we didn’t. So that was that.

6. The “Younger Guy” Date. Let me just preface this by saying I did not officially know how old this guy was – I mean, when a person says they’re your age, you believe them, right? Nope. This dudes’ idea of a date was hanging out in his car, talking for 30 minutes, and then making out. Granted, he was cute, so the making out wasn’t torture, but buy me a drink before you get some. Oh, you’re not 21 yet? Awesome. I’m uncomfortable.

5. The “Dream Crush” Date. When I was a sophomore in high school, I had a crush on a friend who was a senior. He was beautiful, had a girlfriend, and had no idea I was secretly in love with him. Two or so years later, after I graduated and he was home for the summer, he asked me out to dinner. I was out of control excited – this was every high school girl’s dream, to be asked out by the schools hot senior (even though high school was over). This is where the halo effect hit full force, because the date was a dud. High school hottie had the personality of a salmon pink colored crayon. I suppose he got by on his illustrious blue eyes and perfectly swept hair, because he had absolutely nothing to talk about, nothing of interest to say, and I was bored to tears. New rule of thumb – don’t go out with the pretty guy of your dreams. He’s boring. Dream crushed.

4. The “Purely Awkward” Date. I met this guy in a show and thought he was cute – so when he asked me to go see a movie with him, I thought sure, why not? I’ll tell you why not. One, he smelled like old ham. How does one even do that? Do they make a ham-like cologne that is made to remind one of pig? Gross. Two, he spent the entire movie trying to place his arm around me (without much success, I might add). When he finally was able to maneuver his arm correctly, it was horrible and uncomfortable – but I felt so bad, since he had been making so much of an effort, that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to move his arm, or to remove myself. Therefore, I spent the remainder of the date attempting to adjust how I was sitting to make myself more comfortable. It didn’t work. He walked me to my car, and pseudo attempted to kiss me goodnight. I effectively avoided it, and left. I don’t want the taste of old ham in my mouth ever. Yuck.

3. The “Food Poisoning” Date. Pathetic and unfortunate. I went on a date with a guy I was good friends with, and actually really liked. He came with me to see my students’ show, and then took me out to dinner. After the appetizers, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. Our main course came, and I forced myself to eat and drink, even though I was starting to feel queasy. We left, and walked around for a bit as I pushed through the feeling that I was going to pass out. When we got back to the car, I couldn’t fake it anymore – mostly because I started throwing up uncontrollably in the parking lot. Hot. Fortunately, my friend understood, took me home, and called me the next day to see how I was feeling. We did end up dating on and off for a while, and are now great friends – however, he makes sure to remind me how attractively pale I was that night, and gives me no break from his calamari-food-poisoning-inspired jokes. What ultimate embarrassment.

2. The “You’re Just Not Pretty Enough” Date. Category: High school douche. Sadly, he was technically my first “boyfriend”, although I was young, and I’m unsure of the rules and guidelines as to what made up a relationship back then. “Going Out” pretty much consisted of hanging out after school for a few hours, then going home. So that’s what we did. For about a week and a half. Then, he im-ed me (what up AOL Instant Messenger!), and told me he decided he would rather go out with a girl he knew from camp, because she was (ready for this?) prettier than me. I was dumped for being ugly. What a shit dick. He is now dating a lesbian and lives with his parents.

1. The “Girlfriend Guy” Date. Pretty self explanatory, and about as equally as shitty as you can imagine. I went out on a date with a guy I thought was pretty great – great personality, great sense of humor, tall dark and handsome, enjoyed all the things I did, etc., etc.. We hung out a few times, and it was great. Until I got a text that was meant for his girlfriend. Whoops. Having been cheated on before, I’d really rather not be the person who someone is cheating with. Take a hike, loser.

In A Nutshell

2011-01-13T10:00:00.000-08:00

The Place: A street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
The Time: Last night.
The Scene: Matt, Christina, and Hilary walk out of their 3 story apartment building heading for their three-way date night. Three random strangers (2 guys and a girl) walk by, bundled up with coats, white and black scarves, and black beanies. The men are not cleanly shaven. The strangers greet the threesome with a friendly passing.

Three Random Strangers: (varied) Hey Guys, what's up, how's it going?

Matt, Christina, Hilary: (together and varied) Hey, hi, hey...

A few seconds pass as glances are exchanged.

Hilary: Do either one of you know those guys? Do they live in our building?

Matt: No. They're Hipsters. They say hi to everyone.

Hilary: Oh. That's...friendly.

Matt: No. I'm from Jersey. If someone talks to me, I say "Mind your own fucking business" and go on with my day. I hate white people.

Scene.

Barely Out of Tuesday

2011-01-11T20:57:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting at my computer at 10:45 pm eating Cherry Garcia ice cream straight from the pint while Christina watches Bridget Jones Diary and Matt heats up lasagna in the microwave. A blizzard is stewing and beginning as the first inch dusts gentry atop the cars, and the brisk winds wind through the short Brooklyn blocks. I wear my pajama pants backwards and inside out in hopes of a snow day. Funny, how the urge to play in the snow is almost as intense as it was years ago, when all I needed to make me smile was a snow saucer and a day off from school. Today, the same hopes ring true. The plate suddenly shatters as Matt wails and comes to the realization that the plate was not microwave safe. I knew, but didn’t have the heart the tell him. He’s trying to be more domestic and independent. His heart is broken. I stare at the silent phone, waiting for the pot to boil as my first three pages of writing in months vanishes from my computer screen at the accidental brush of a key. Dammit.

There was a time when I wrote in all italics because I thought it would make my writing more significant. When I realized that wouldn’t make my writing better, I switched to a purely journalistic account, hoping it would 1) give me an excuse to write and keep myself current on the happenings of the world at large (be it politics, pop-culture, or some weird news account or funny animal Youtube sensation), and/or 2) get me some readers. It did very little of both. After 5 years of college, I took a year hiatus from writing down a single word - not a note, a line, a song lyric - nothing. I was enervated and uninspired. After 2 years of rejection from the writing world, I wasn’t exactly pumped about my future career - I mean, no one goes into the field they studied in college, that would be madness! I assumed I could be the exception to the rule. Reality slap: I am not. I don’t even know if I’m that talented of a writer to begin with, let alone an outstanding one, which is what you would have to be in order to be noticed. Writers Markets purchased, query letters sent, rejections received. Moving on. I now work in the world of Non-Profit, where I don’t get to do much writing at all. Instead, I help people (really, check out my website: http://www.yai.org/), which is also something I always wanted to do - I just never saw it happening in this capacity, with this population. I was supposed to be a dancer. Instead, I’m a writer, right? Perhaps not. The journey continues.

Which brings us back to the present. January 11th, to be exact. I’m not sure what has motivated me to sit back down and really attempt something, but it’s happened regardless. Maybe that’s the only reason for meeting people - to have them inspire and challenge you. To have them pull out all the good, the bad, and the ugly, and present it to you in a completely new and shiny package. To show you where you stand with the world, and maybe where you stand with yourself. To remind you of where you started, and help you find where you’re going. In my experience, there are certainly a ton of pot holes along the way - but you always end up back on the track you belong on, one way or another, and not always in the same form you started in. I’ve met a lot of people. I’ve fallen in and out of love, and had my heart broken and smashed, then gently reserved it, waiting for the right moment. I’ve laughed, I’ve wept, drank and partied, and had lots of sex. I’ve gone on adventures, taken risks, jumped off high dives, driven on the wrong side of the road, run out of gas, broken down on a major highway, gotten stuck in a car, crawled inside a dryer, touched “do not touch” displays, accepted both truths and dares, been broken and bruised, played drunken volleyball and gone drunken sledding, climbed a few mountains, and have no regrets. And that is what I have come to realize. There are a million and one things I still want to do - but of the things I have done, I look back and just smile.

And now, it’s 1/11/11 at 11:11pm. Make a wish.

Conversations Worth Remembering

2011-01-05T12:02:00.000-08:00

Rachel: PJ and I just said your text outloud at the same time. Melissa says 'fuck off'
Hilary: Tell Melissa I am going to give her a dick-in-a-box for her wedding gift
Rachel: Melissa says she already has some anal beads with the face of jesus on each bead and a crucifix on the end to scratch your rectum on the way out.
Hilary: Sweet, that will match my menorah dildo.
Rachel: For all nine of your vaginas

Just one of the many, many reasons I miss my old job.

New Year, New Songs, New Board Games

2011-01-04T20:51:00.000-08:00

It's the little things, like finding Forgetting Sarah Marshall for four dollars, having a foam sword fight, or discovering gel nail polish that make days go from just okay to awesome, and push my girlie points up to double digits. Which is okay, because I know what Chamball is.

I don't necessarily like to make resolutions, because I feel as though resolutions are meant to be broken (like "I will save money this year" or "I will not eat chocolate". Yeah right on both accounts). I prefer to think of it as setting semi unrealistic yet achievable goals that, when I do successfully attain, they are really exciting accomplishments. That being said, enjoy my list of some of the things I would love to be able to do, continue doing, or just kick a little more booty at.

1. Relax. Last year was crazy - between moving twice, jumping back and forth between homes, crashing on couches, working 3 jobs simultaneously, moving to the city - it was exhausting. This year, I'm going to enjoy myself. I've worked extremely hard for way too long. Now, I'm settled, and I'm going to enjoy living here. At least until September, when my lease is up, and I have to find a new place away from the crazy Orthodox Jew landlords who don't know how to do anything regarding an apartment building. This goes hand in hand with number...

2. Have more fun. I need to do just that. I don't think it requires any more explanation.

3. Take risks. I'm not talking sky diving here (no Tuesday Irregulars, I will not be jumping out of a plane with you in September), but more along the lines of generally just letting-go. And maybe road-tripping to Vegas.

4. Get back in touch with my friends. Silly, maybe, but I've gone sort of MIA for the past few months (since May, really), and now I'm done with that. I miss my people. I miss car rides and ice cream, sing-alongs and shopping excursions, photo shoots at abandoned car lots with drug dealers and rape motels in the background, dancing and board games, long phone calls and late night drinking. I'm social by nature. This hermit act is over.

5. Stop taking crap. Again. Self explanatory.

6. Get back into shape! (lame and typical, right?) I don't necessarily think I need to actively lose weight. I just need to get my groove back - get back to the studio, go outside and play more, you know, the usual shenanigans. And maybe lay off all the candy bars they sell in the lobby of my building. Those can't be good.

7. There is too much drama in drama. I don't want it anymore. I'm an adult, folks. I'm just staying uninvolved for a while. A detox cleanse diet, if you will.

8. Write more. Dance more. Kick more ass.

9. Be honest. I've always told it like it is. I'm going to continue to do so (maybe with a little more tact...), but I'm also going to try to speak up for myself a little more. Not a whole lot more, because I think I do an okay job. I just need to be more confident in my decisions and actions. Cue cheesy music.

10. Be myself.

So watch out, World. Hil-Dawg is back in action for 2011. I'm excited.

Sleepy

2010-12-28T19:16:00.000-08:00

Does having a glass of wine alone make you an alcoholic? How about a bottle?

I stole this picture from a new friend. And I love that it combines 3 of my favorite things: dancing, philosophy, and dinosaurs. And killer Killer lyrics - no harm there. Focker, out.

Oh The Weather Outside Is Weather

2010-12-26T20:05:00.000-08:00

It's snowing. Work is cancelled for tomorrow. I have a large mug of hot chocolate steaming to my left, and just enough food to get me to Wednesday. Both of my roommates are home in New Jersey, and I'm snowed in alone with three bottles of wine and a plethora of Malibu. My brother stayed with me for two nights, and we ordered in a Chinese food feast, watched Elf, Knocked Up, and at least 20 episodes of How I Met Your Mother, dipped chocolate Teddy Grahams into vanilla icing as makeshift Drunkaroos, and played an obscene amount of Lego Batman and Mario Brothers 3. Symbolic dying flowers flop over the side of a vase on the top of the microwave because I didn't have the heart to throw them away. My skylight is completely covered in snow, and there is actual drifting happening on my windowsills. The sky is purple.

Memories have been flooding my vision today - each and every one of them making me smile from ear to ear. There is something truly magical about the first big snow storm of the season (how very Lorelai Gilmore of me), the reminiscence, and the feelings that resurface. Cancelled classes; Lunch tray sledding outside of the Towers; Stuck car doors; Snowball fights after rehearsals, resulting in a wicked case of bronchitis and 2 rounds of antibiotics (worth every second); Guitar Hero and practically ice skating across campus from the furthest and most dangerous mountain point to the next; Fireplaces, and s'mores, and watching my kitties chase the flames; snowmen on our last winter as a family; a week-long state of emergency and being snowed in with Lauren for 5 days, while Jim, our neighbor, made a maze of paths with his mini snow plow for us to navigate (and Max was only 4, so he wasn't allowed out in the snow for fear of actually losing him); the giant mountain made by the snow plow in the center of the circle, resulting in weeks of fort making and sledding patterns; down to last years New Years Eve, and getting iced-in with some of my closest friends.

On a completely different note, I've gotten mixed up in a little bit of drama recently (and slightly by accident). This incident, while bringing some harsh realities to light, has given me reason to look at myself a little closer. I don't like drama, or gossip, or anything of the sort - and if that is the case, I need to work a little harder on ridding it from my own life, and making sure I do not take part of it. I've always believed that when things go wrong, it's important to take a step back and look at the situation as objectively as you can - if you are the common denominator, then maybe you are part of the problem.

My specific plight is that I'm too trusting, and too open. I pride myself on being as honest as I can be - blunt even - and I think I need to pull back a little. I need to keep my nose out of where it doesn't belong, even if I'm not doing so intentionally or maliciously. Part of being a friend is just being there, and letting those you care about know you're there. My friends have been amazing the past year - being there for me, holding my hand when I needed support and kicking my ass when I needed a wake up call, helping me move (some of them helping twice, and some on their birthday), and caring for me, even after seeing me at my worst. I need to give some of them more credit, stop over thinking things, and let the little things slide away. All I can do is hope that the people I put my trust in are the people who will always be there, and always have my back (as I will always have theirs). Everything else is unimportant.

My horoscopes have been eerily on point as of late. I hope they continue to impress. I leave you with this one:

If you are having negative thoughts about this crazy season, you should really change your tune. You have much to be grateful for, and you will have even more to be happy about very soon. Live in the moment and appreciate it.

Ginger... What?!

2010-12-13T07:31:00.000-08:00

Everything I have known up until this point has been a lie.

A few weeks ago, my friends and I went out to dinner at a cute little restaurant in Little Italy. When the server came to take drink orders, I ordered a Ginger Ale. My friend Nick commented on my selection ("Lame"), followed by my friend Bill uttering the now forever immortal words which permanently shattered the fragile illusion of perfection I lived my life on: "You know, most restaurants don't serve Ginger Ale - they just mix Coke and Sprite together and no one notices the difference.". WHAT?!

I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it! I awaited my drinks arrival in anticipation, hoping what Bill said was incorrect - it had to be. As the server approached our table (and the world turned to slow motion), the air was tense. We all held our breath as the glass with the golden, bubbling beverage was placed in front of me. I slowly lifted the paper off the tip of the straw, and allowed the liquid to flow. Sure enough, Bill's theory was, in fact, correct. As the soda touched my lips, the glass shattered - I knew this was not Ginger Ale, but what tasted like old Sprite with Coke syrup flowing through it. What lies! What blasphemy! How could it be? How could I have been so blind, so naive, so unquestioning and credulous? All those years, wasted, thinking I was consuming one of my favorite beverages, could have all been falsities.

I decided to do some research, and see if this was as common a phenomenon as had just been suggested. I went to my best friend, Google, and typed away with ferocity, hoping to stumble upon something proving all of this was wrong - it felt so very, very wrong. What did I find? That most restaurants, to cut costs, do not supply Ginger Ale, but in fact, have their servers combine the two aforementioned sodas to give the same coloring, while unsuspecting consumers indulge without question. "But Hilary, doesn't Ginger Ale have ginger in it?" Why yes, fellow readers, it does, thus adding to my complete and utter repulsion and resentment of every restaurant that has ever fooled me. According to Wikipedia, the ingredients of Ginger Ale are as follows:

Ginger ale commonly contains ginger, sugar, and carbonated water. Ginger ale can also contain yeast when carbonated with natural fermentation. Ginger content is often listed on labels in a general natural aroma or natural flavoring statement, to preserve secrecy of the complex proprietary mix of spices, fruits and other flavors used.

GINGER Ale! There is no ginger in Coke or Sprite (according to both my research, and just general knowledge of what ingredients make up my favorite soda). None! How could the noble institutions, chain restaurants such as Applebees and Red Robin, take the most popular soft drink of the United States from 1860 to 1930, and give it so little justice?

Now, I have a mission. I am going to order Ginger Ale at each and every food establishment I visit, and see if I can tell the difference between the impostor, and the true soda hero. I will fight for the name of Dr. Cantrell of Northern Ireland (the supposed inventor of the glorious beverage). I will fight. And I will win.

Good day, mere mortals. Good day.

A Mental Mind Explosion

2010-12-10T09:17:00.000-08:00

I spent about an hour wondering around the holiday market at Union Square yesterday evening. It was freezing cold, and a little windy, but had that true holiday magic feel (along with an orthodox Jew yelling "Happy Chanukah, who celebrates Chanukah!"). I felt like I was wondering through a scene from a movie - crafts and jewelry, scarves, hats, purses, soaps, anything and everything you could imagine, surrounded by lights and garlands, with the most creative and interesting people wrapped up in their coats and hats, just willing to talk or sell some of their artwork, under canopies and tents, all different shapes, sizes, and colors. It felt truly magical.

It actually roused a great deal of thought. I began thinking a lot about the past year - the ups, the downs, the spectacular, the average, and everything in between - however, what continued to pop up, as it has been for the past few months, was this past summer, and all the events leading up to it - my family, our move, the stress, and the relationships fractured among us because of it all. I've spent the past few months in transition, moving out of my home and crashing in my moms tiny apartment for a few months while I looked for a place - then moving out on my own, to a brand new big city, completely out of my comfort zone. While I have been here now a little over 2 months, I'm still feeling the unrest, the after effects - and it took me until now to realize that that is what has been going on with me.

I've been feeling out of sorts, down, alone, scared, and anxious for months upon months now. I thought that once I moved out of my house, all of that would just magically disappear, and I'd be nothing put perfectly happy and content, satisfied with my decisions, and ready to jump into the world. Yes, I'm much less anxious than I was from June until October, yes I'm happy I made the decision to move here and work here, but I've never felt more vulnerable or insecure. I feel like a moving target - like all it takes is looking at me, and you can see right through me. My eyes give me away. They show my stress, and fear, and pure exhaustion from this past year. My body has physically reacted as well - I'm sore and tired, and I can barely keep food down.

I think what I'm looking for is some sort of answer or a sign, which is silly. Things happen because you make them happen, not because you sit around and wait for them. I think I need to allow myself to feel again - I've shut down a lot of myself, out of fear of getting hurt again, out of anger, and just being scared overall. I've shut myself down emotionally without even realizing it in order to protect myself. But what is it I'm protecting myself from? Being happy? Enjoying life? Moving on?

Have the past two years been rough? Hell yes. But how long can I live hanging on to that? How long can I dwell on missing my parents and the ideal family life I wish I had? I don't have the picture perfect household, and I never will - I need to embrace what I have (which is way more than plenty others do), and realize that there is love surrounding me, whether it shows itself the way I wish it would or not. How long can I wish my Mother wasn't ill, that she was healthy and happy? She isn't. But she's my Mother, and I love her, and need to learn to accept her the way she is. How long can I think back to Travis and wish things had turned out differently? They didn't. I have to stop idealizing him any more than I already have in the past.

I think the holidays always stir up an excess of emotions in people they weren't necessarily ready to deal with. Perhaps this is why people dread the holidays. I think of how for five years in a row, I spent Christmas with the person I thought I would spend the rest of my life with - how his family embraced me as their own, how everything about this time of year brings me back to that chiminae and the snowfall on Christmas Eve, to quiche's and wine, and the family that wasn't family whom I loved whole-heartedly. I think back to cold, wintry mornings at 7am, shelving books and arranging holiday displays, mocking managers and flirting with friends, going out for beers, milkshakes and fries, stolen kisses, and snuggling up baking cookies for staff meetings. And this year, I'm scared. Because I don't have any of that. I have nothing familiar, and no one in particular to share it with. It's things like this that I'm scared make me numb - that make me block out when good actually does come upon me, because I'm so afraid I'll be let down again. That is something I need to move past, and learn how to open myself again.

My friend Jaimie put it best - she told me to have some Hilary time, and just enjoy being in the city. She's absolutely right.

The Lotus

2010-12-03T09:57:00.000-08:00

I've always loved the Lotus flower. Aside from being incredibly unique and breathtakingly beautiful, it's a flower that holds such a great deal of meaning and symbolism behind it, it's hard not to be fascinated by the thing. It grows in dirty water, swamps, and bogs, and yet produces a product so magnificent, you would think it was rooted their purposefully. Growing through mud, it always comes out unstained.

In Buddhism, the Lotus represents Nirvana - the time when the Lotus blooms out of the dirty water, is the time a person has reached their full potential, and are ready for rebirth and reincarnation. It is this reason that often times, Buddha is depicted as sitting on, or coming out of, a Lotus flower. This shows how he was able to surpass the pain of multiple reincarnations through the "material" world, and reach Nirvana. Purity of body, speech, and mind.

In Egyptian and Hindu mythology, the Lotus is compared to the sun - the flower closes and hides beneath the water at night, and then rises and reopens at dawn. It is for this reason the flower is often associated with Atom, the sun God, who, along with the sun itself, represents reincarnation as well - rising, shining, setting into darkness, and repeating - just like life. Divine beauty.

Asian traditions view the Lotus as sexual purity and non-attachment.

The Lotus can be used to represent change, enlightenment, rebirth, and new beginnings, as well as strength, and heart. The various colors also each represent something different, but that would take hours.

Last night, my Dad and Step-mom gave me a necklace with a Lotus pendant on it, and with extremely great reason. This is my rebirth, and my new beginning. I've always been slightly afraid of major changes, and it's time for me to not only accept it, but embrace it. This necklace reminds me of that. I need to bring light back into my heart, and take in all the things happening around me. I'm really happy they reminded me of why I'm really here, and of why I always wanted to be here. I think it's easy to forget - with bills, and working, and living, and trying to budget and pay rent, have enough money for food and transportation - I've just spent too much time worrying. Everything happens for a reason, and things work out they way they should, just not always in the way you expected, and I need to understand that, and be more flexible. The past year or so has gotten me so clenched up and closed off, and that's not who I am. I'm free spirited, adventurous, serious but fun, responsible but impulsive - and I need to get that back, let go, and fly.

A Little Break

2010-12-02T13:19:00.000-08:00

Fuckin' Hipsters Stealing My Sleep

2010-11-19T21:09:00.000-08:00

I know. I know know know that what I am about to say makes me sound like I'm an 80 year old woman, but WHY must the people across the hall from me have a crazy loud party at midnight, and then proceed to leave their door wide open AND climb up to the roof using the fire escape that is connected to my window when I'm sick and all I want to do is go to sleep? What is it about Brooklyn, Hipsters, skinny jeans, and roof tops that makes such a ridiculous combination?

It is now that I introduce to you a website that, while I loathe it's existence (and the fact that they have a damn BOOK published, which is how I found it in the first place [thanks BN]), called "Look At This Fucking Hipster". I'm sorry. They need to buy more underpants and TURN THE PARTY DOWN.

Reasons I currently don't like "Hipsters":

A. They go on my roof
2. "You smell homeless, Brett. Homeless". This is because Hipsters don't shower. That is, they don't shower enough. Greasy hair = stylish and easier to mold into a cool mo hawk or a weirdo spiked comb over. It also holds onto hats with more ease.
D. They try too hard to be different. Just be yourself, smelly kids.

I would like to share with you an excerpt from the article entitled "The Hipster Manifesto" by Julie Grisolano:

The hipster manifesto is repleat with what's cool and what's not. If you're a hipster, you know all the latest "cool" restaurants, bars, bands, music venues, books, clothes, and "hip" neighborhoods to live in. Being a hipster means you buck convention by getting a job out of college that is unique, dress in non-conformist clothes, probably majored in some liberal arts degree at school, loathe the idea of ever living in the burbs, listen to NPR, go to bars that are off the beaten path, like quirky movies, and listen to bands that probably get very little major network radio time. And the minute a movie, band, restaurant, bar, or neighborhood, starts becoming mainstream, you no longer consider it "cool." Constantly looking for the new "it", hipsters religiously search for the latest trend--before it becomes too trendy. If everyone else is doing it, then it's not novel. And if it's not novel, it's not hip. Considering that being "hip" is about bucking the trend, hipsters ironically perform this ritual with clockwork. And in no area is this clockwork-mentality more apparent than in the worldview they hold.

Put different clothes on them and place them in a different decade, our modern-day hipster nonetheless often resembles the 1960's hippy from our parent's generation. Is this a stereotype? Sure. But take a poll next time you meet a hipster and about 8 times out of 10 they'll overwhelmingly agree with the more liberal-leaning cultural opinions they listened to on NPR or read in the latest "hip" cultural-commentary book. They'll give you an earful too on all the woes that America has inflicted on a. the world, b. every minority group in the world, and c. the vast 3rd world nations that America colonized at one time. Forget that America didn't actually colonize the 3rd world countries they mention, rather that it was our European friends whose good-opinion they crave so much, they'll still steadfastly maintain that somehow, it's America's fault. Not too long ago I had a conversation with a young woman, armed with a law degree and other multiple advanced-degrees, who argued that America was the worst nation on the planet. As an ardent feminist, I thought surely that she'd consider countries with aggressive policies against women---countries that don't allow women to vote, drive a car, or eat in public---far worse. But, she adamantly disagreed saying that, "Nothing compares to America. We're the worst country in the world." Now, I'm not saying my country of residence is perfect, but I will bet my meager life savings that America's young feminist hipsters wouldn't relish the idea of trading places with the ladies of Saudi Arabia.

I feel better. Now to get some sleep. OH WAIT.

Single Thought Post Day

2010-11-18T10:19:00.000-08:00

I type my name into my computer as if I were still at WPU. I do this everyday.

I love living in a city that allows me to obtain whatever food I want, whenever and wherever I want it. To connect: this corn chowder bread bowl is shamazing.

I'm super excited about The Wedding Singer.

When was Thanksgiving suddenly a week away?

One of my favorite co-workers is leaving for an amazing job opportunity.

I still look for my parents approval, and want them to be proud of me. I don't think they are.

I need to calm my sweet tooth down - I've been consuming far too much sugar.

Losing friends to bad decisions makes me sad. Losing board games doesn't bother me at all.

I'm saving up to take a much anticipated and highly over due trip to D.C., and also, California.

I'm dreading the holidays this year.

I want a cat like it's my job. More importantly, I miss Sophie.

Break ups are hard.

I'm really excited for the cake at our staff meeting today.

I hope I can stay awake for Harry Potter tonight - and that seeing it at midnight while having work the next day wasn't a bad decision.

I love seltzer.
I need to win the lottery.

I've Been Really Into These Lately...

2010-11-18T09:19:00.000-08:00

"Everything is fine, and will remain so unless you overreact. Think positive. Although this is a bit of confusion in a certain key area of your life right now, things are on the upswing for you. And opportunity you have waited a long time for and perhaps even forgotten about is about to present itself. Don't be afraid to believe in the possibilities once again. This time you won't be disapointed."

Thanks, daily horoscope. I needed that!

Quick Notes

2010-11-16T07:39:00.000-08:00

This summer would have been the 44th Freeman and Wells Family Reunion. One of these days, we're tie-dying shirts and going.

I also can't believe it's been almost 3 years since we drove down to LBI, spray painted shells neon green, yellow, and pink, mixed them with pearls, and filmed my running into the ocean in 50 degree weather, picked up 4 half liters of Wawa iced tea/lemonade, and just made it home in time for the Pioneer Players meeting in the new dorms.

Strange memories are haunting me today, and the Hudson River is oddly grey. How gloomy.

Scatter Brain

2010-11-15T12:50:00.001-08:00

I'm exhausted and maybe a little cloudy from being sick and taking lots and lots of Sudafed. I've also eaten my weight in oranges, read half a book, Netti-potted the crap out of myself, and am in desperate need of doing laundry, but have been avoiding it like the plague.

A few weeks ago I got my sister two shirts at Target - one was an orange and black Halloween Hello Kitty t-shirt, and the other was a long sleeved black shirt with a turquoise t-shirt over top of it, covered in pink and purple flowers and sparkles. This weekend, she told me

she loves that shirt the best, because of the sparkles, and since she is so good at sharing, she has been scrapping the sparkles off the shirt and giving them to her friends. The adorable factor is out of control.

I've been doing a lot of exploring and wondering in the city the past week or so. I really like Brooklyn, even though I am in hipsterville. Things you may only see here:

1. Knitting factories turned apartments - very hip

2. Artists bicycling their beloved pieces around, particularly giant canvases

3. Graffiti being done on rotation

I sometimes wonder if it's possible to fall in love again. I used to think that you're given one great love in your life, and that's who

you are meant to be with. My opinion has since changed, but I still sometimes wonder: What if we as beings are given one shot, one person to love for always, and I had mine, and now I'm done? Am I capable of loving someone? Or have I shut down that part of myself forever for fear of getting hurt again? Perhaps, I'll know when I find them. Maybe I won't.

Then there are other times when I think: When I'm ready to be in love again, I will be, and the person I'm meant to be with will find me. I mean, that's what happened last time. So who knows.

I've started looking into adoption. Cats, not humans.

I wish I were Tina Fey. Or Wonder Woman.

Todays Horoscope...

2010-11-10T19:41:00.001-08:00

Don't focus on a recent mistake or mishap. There is nothing to be gained from going over the scenario in your mind. You can't change the past, but worrying about it can change the future by bringing you down and leaving you in a stressed-out and beaten-down state. Let go of anything that has already happened, and concentrate on the road ahead. The horizon is quite bright, but you will only see it if you stop looking down and start looking up. Move forward one step at a time is that's all you can muster, but move forward.

Here's hoping!

Nonsensical Banter

2010-11-10T11:52:00.000-08:00

I spent 2 hours walking around Williamsburg last night, and discovering the greatest fallafel I've ever eaten. Today, my feet hurt. Worth it.

NEW TOPIC. I am not ashamed to admit that I am, in fact, a Glee fan. I am, however, very sad at how terribly the show has been going this season, thus far. While last night certainly was a nod back to old school Glee (can I call it that after only one season? It seemed long), it's still lacking the initial excitement and enthusiasm the show had when it first started out. The reason I liked it so much was that, in a way, it lived out all my secret fantasies of what I wished high school was really like - bursting out into random musical numbers, immediately knowing music and perfect harmonies by just glancing at a piece of sheet music, actually HAVING a Glee Club, with a bangin' band available at a moments notice, and instantaneously knowing a full musical theatre number, choreography and all, and being amazing at it. This season, however, Glee is focusing more on gathering ratings and numbers by playing "tribute" (if you want to call it that) to supposed musical icons (again, if you want to call them that). While the Madonna episode last year was phenomenal, it still pushed forward with a plot line. This seasons Brittany episode was a pathetic excuse for an hour of television. Yes, the music videos were on point, but a plot line where kids go to the dentist to get high and have trips so they can be the lead of their own Brittany video? Give me a break. And since when does the guidance counselor call in her dentist boyfriend to give singers a lesson on brushing their teeth? STRETCH. I can't even touch the disaster that was the Rocky Horror episode. I knew it would be a bust, but I tried to give it a chance. I will never get that hour of my life back. "Sweet Transvestite" should be sung by just that - a transvestite. Mercedes wearing a corset? Not the same. True, her voice is killer, and her diva-dom remains in tact, but even Aretha couldn't pull that number off unless she had a penis and some serious lipstick. She is not, in fact, a tranny. And is it just me, or does watching two teachers start to get it on in a classroom while singing make anyone else uncomfortable? Yikes.

Last nights episode looks like it could be Glee's saving grace, tackling issues such a gay bullying while still maintaining killer musical numbers - the rival all boys a capella group rocked it. Yet the prospect of Gwenyth Paltrow coming on next week makes me uneasy. I really want to keep watching and enjoying this show. I do hope they go back to where it began.

I would like to share an excerpt on the subject from Meghan Brown, co-founder of the Giraffe Hunt Theatre in LA, from a recent article in the Atlantic:

"Okay. I'm mad again.

What. The. Heck. Is. Going. On.

Why would a relatively conservative high school in Ohio put on Rocky Horror? In what Universe is RHPS Emma's favorite movie? How is a whole musical going up in a week's time? Why is everyone OK with adults (especially non-faculty adults LIKE THE SCHOOL COUNSELOR'S DENTIST BOYFRIEND) being in a sexy musical with high schoolers? Why is Amber playing Frankenfurter instead of Kurt? How did Sue's anti-Rocky rant end up being the most logical part of the show?

More importantly: Why do we care? Why do we care if Emma and Will get together, when Will is sort of the world's worst person? Why do we care about a musical that we can tell from the get-go isn't going to end up happening?

Look, Glee isn't Rocky Horror, and Rocky Horror certainly isn't Britney Spears. A fakey homage consisting of a watered-down, Disney-fied version isn't going to cut it.

Amen, sister. Rant over.

Growing and Learning

2010-11-07T20:55:00.000-08:00

It's 8am, and I am sitting at my desk drinking hot chocolate and eating pomegranate seeds after walking through hail (yes, hail in Brooklyn in November) and freezing awful wind tunnels just to ride the stuffed elevator up to the ninth floor, and listen to Peter, my consumer with MR, give away all the main plot points to "Due Date", the movie he saw this weekend. My office, with the exception of one or two of my co-workers, is completely empty for the day.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks, and I've learned a lot - mostly about myself. I guess picking up and moving as I did enables you to do a lot of self reflection, as it were. After the hellish roller coaster ride that was this summer, it makes sense. It's nice to be feeling a little more settled in. I still have a lot of things to sort through and boxes to unpack (and let's not talk about the storage unit back home I have yet to tackle), but it's coming along, slowly but surely. It's both challenging and fulfilling, sorting through all the crap you've obtained over the years. It's refreshing to move into a new place and unpack things the way you want - a fresh start, both physically and mentally. I like it.

I've learned that helping people can have bad repercussions, and you have to be really careful. Careful about who you trust, and who you lean on; who you open yourself up to, and who you let in.

I've learned it's important to know what you want, and stay strong in that. Expectations can never be too high, and lowering them for something or someone shouldn't be an option.

I've learned that I need to remain true to myself, and I need to be more secure in my decisions and my actions. I lost sight of that for a while, and I'm slowly gaining it back. What I don't think people understand is that when you're knocked down so much and so far, sometimes it's takes a little bit of time to get yourself back up. Some people bounce back quickly - I take a little more time. But I'm getting there.

I have also learned that confidentiality needs to be adhered to more often, and this statement applies mainly to me. I've always considered myself to be a good listener, and a good friend. In the past couple of months, I think I let that slip a bit. While I remained truthful and honest, I think I lost sight of how important it is to sometimes just keep your mouth shut, even if you have good intentions. I owe apologies and promises that I have seen my mistakes and since grown past them. I have some great people in my life. I don't plan on losing them anytime soon.

I think I've grown up a lot in the past few months. I'm not thrilled at the way I did it, but I'm coming out better on the other end. I'm getting somewhere, and that makes me optimistic for things to come. I've started looking into graduate programs, and job opportunities I can grab onto through my organization - I applied to teach ballet to 5 year olds with autism and DS, which would just be amazing. I'm excited.

Recoil

2010-11-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Ani Difranco: Thank you for always having songs that perfectly narrate my life. I'm not sure how you knew what I would be thinking or feeling back when you wrote your songs, but I appreciate it now. Sincerly, me.

Come home and my guitar has nothing to say to me
I recoil from all my friends and then I'm in misery
Been so long since I've been held, really since I was his
Probably just need to be held, that's probably all it is

Course then I think of my Dad, who travels mostly now
Back to when he was free and holding out hope somehow
Who sits all day in a line of wheelchairs against a wall
Inventing ways to play out time like us all

To all the people out there tonight who are comforting themselves
If you should happen to see my light you can stop and ring my bell
I'm just sitting here in this sty strewn with half written songs
Taking one breath at a time, not much going on

Little flashing zero on my answering machine
Rats scratching at my brain, braing shuffling it's feet
Yes, I have my fathers heart, it may or may not keep on trying
Can't really tell you what it is keeps me this side of that dark line

But I'm not there to take care of him, and I'm not here to take care of me
I'm going outside to watch the house burn down across the street

2010-11-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

"How can people be so heartless?

You know I'm hung up on you

Easy to give in, easy to say no"

Blasphemy

2010-11-01T08:38:00.000-07:00

I forgot how yummy Swedish Fish were. Even though they are made in Canada, and not Sweden. False advertising.

2010-10-29T10:46:00.000-07:00

So let's talk a bit.

Everything happens for a reason. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Everything comes to you in due time and when you least expect it. Somehow, none of these sayings matter very much when you're looking for a little comfort.

It's hard to consistently deal with rejection - whether it's coming from a job I've applied for, a show I've auditioned for, or a relationship I wanted to take off - I've had a lot of it thrown at me. You would think that by now, it would have gotten easier. Honestly, it doesn't seem to. I don't mean to sound like I'm miserable, or hopeless - that's not the case. I am, however, starting to feel a little left out from those who keep stumbling upon such awesome fortune, and maybe even a little jealous. It's also hard when you're not one of those people that gets thing easily - I never have been. Everything I've gotten, I've worked really hard for. Not to say that I don't appreciate it, or the person it's helped shaped me to be, but every so often? It would be really nice if something could just work out. People keep telling me to just be patient, and soon enough, it will be my turn to get some good. Well, Universe? I'd say it's my turn for a little happiness.

I know I'll be fine - I'm a tough cookie when I need to be. And I know that I'll find what it is I'm looking for. I may even find someone. Someone who wants me as much as I want them, and someone who will put me first, as I would put them first. I just need to remind myself of these things, and believe in them.

A friend of mine recently told me "Hilary, I'm going to give you the best advice you'll hear all year: don't worry so much." So, as the rules of improv clearly state, accept and build. I'll be okay.

Cats, Mangoes, And A Little BTB

2010-10-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

Erik and I used to pass notes to each other during out creative fiction writing classes - but instead of notes, we wrote Haiku's. Then, Erik would hang them on his wall, and during parties, we would get drunk and read them out loud to our friends. They were ridiculous, and most of them were about the girl in our class who would read her stories aloud using different character voices, and wear a jacket that was covered in knitted cats. Her stories were also mostly about cats. We would also write about the girl who wanted to be the first woman to write an Indian tale of Cinderella or...something - only it always included mangoes and a mango tree, and picking the mangoes off of the tree, and then we would zone out - so really, I'm not sure what she ever read. I miss this stuff. College was a great experience. I never thought I would say this, but I can't wait to go back to grad school and take more classes. Look out, Fall 2011.

::EDIT::

I've been feeling a little out of sorts about things, and maybe not able to capture it in my own word as of late, so I'm stealing the rockin' Ben Taylor Band's.

"And I mostly remember the way that you look
And the only thing left is I'm lonely for you
Everything reminds me of you
And I hope that I find my way home soon"

And One More Thing

2010-10-25T12:40:00.000-07:00

Addendum to last post: putting yourself out there is hard.

Bar Hoppin' In The 'Burg

2010-10-22T20:04:00.001-07:00

Two posts in one day? Madness!

Tonight was... surreal. Tonight was one of those nights I need to get down in writing, or I won't quite remember it. Tonight, I had feelings and memories I couldn't share with any of the people I was physically with, and felt I had no one to reach out to to share. Surreal is really the absolute best way to put it. I'll say it again. Surreal. I'm a little tipsy.

I went out with my roommate, her cousin, and her cousins friends. We started off at a bar in Union Square, but after happy hour, were unable to get a table for dinner, as everything was reserved for the Yankee game. Instead, we headed back to Williamsburg, where we traveled up and down Bedford looking for instant seating. Unsatisfied with our options, we headed deeper into the 'Burg, landing at Mulholands Sports Bar. Walking in, I felt an odd sense of familiarity. We squeezed through the packed bar, looking for a table, and as we approached the back, I noticed how strangely reminiscent I felt about the fireplace, black leather chairs, and backyard patio covered in brick, when it suddenly hit me - I'd been here before. It took me a few minutes of looking around and racking my brain to realize that the reason it seemed so familiar, was because it was. Damien had taken Travis and I there to watch a football game and drink some beers. I found myself viciously scanning the room, looking for anything else to jog my memory, or even for Damien himself, thinking to myself "I look great tonight, what a perfect time to run into my ex-boyfriends brother!". This was to no avail, and as everyone else decided there was no point in waiting, we made our way through the thick crowd.

We walked a block or two, and landed at The Lodge where, holy crap, I'd also been many a time before. Yes - this was Damien's favorite spot, and he lived right around the corner from it. Since the rest of my group had decided to eat here, I swallowed hard, fighting off memories of late summer nights filled with laughter and drunken love, and took a seat, strategically placed in the corner where I could view the entire restaurant. My dinner sat practically untouched and my beer could have grown cobwebs, as I spent the majority of the time scouting and people watching. My cohorts barely noticed, so I was safe from mockery and ridicule. I took my sweet potato fries to go, and left with no appetite. As we walked towards the subway, I looked at every male I passed, hoping to spot a familiar face in the drunken haze of a Friday night in Brooklyn. As I walked back to my apartment, a feeling of pure disappointment flooded over me. Was I still hung up on this? I haven't seen or heard from Travis in a year and a half, and we've been broken up for almost 2 years now - how could I not be past this?

It was then the words a dear friend of mine rung true - you never fully recover from your first heartbreak. Here I am, 25 years old, starting this new life, the world at my finger tips - and I still have these moments of weakness. Of missing him (or, at least, what he was). Perhaps I'm still recovering. Maybe I never will recover completely. Maybe these are the battle scars you carry until you find that right person - that person who takes away that hurt and that pain, and those vivid memories of you sitting on your bed, begging him to admit his infidelity while he swears on his life you're crazy for thinking such things.

People never realize how much I've been through - nor are they aware of my strength. Tonight, visiting and exploring these thoughts and memories, I realized some things. I'm doing okay - and though I feel a little bit lost right now, I'm headed in a direction, be it right or wrong, and I'm going somewhere. I'm strong, and I need to gain back more of the confidence I once had. And most importantly, I'm ready to put myself out there. I'm ready to face the world, head on, in a way I don't think I've done it before - with confidence in myself, and knowing exactly what it is I want. I know what I'm looking for, and I'm excited. I'm optimistic, and I'm ready to let myself let go have some fun. And it's about damn time.

Out Of Spoons

2010-10-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

Today, my supervisor and I bonded over music, and discovered how similar our tastes are in bands and artists. We then drowned our sorrows in Seattle food and cake- sorrows being the hellish work week we had, from Audits to VIP tours, to insanity all over the place. It was the most fulfilling and enjoyable week to date. I like it busy. It also made me realize how comfortable in my job I've become. I'm almost at 6 months - where did the time go?

Brooklyn is great, though I'm not really sure it's hit me yet that I'm here, and on my own for real. It feels just like college, only no classes (which, by the way, I definitely miss - time for grad school!). I'm settling in, slowly but surely, and working really hard at making my place look and feel amazing. I love that the view from my bedroom window is of the Empire State Building. I'm learning the neighborhood and the subways. I enjoy hipster watching. Now I need to meet some new people.

I'm also definitely ready to go back to school - I'm craving knowledge. I'm starting to research different performing arts and education programs, as well as looking into getting my masters in Literature or Writing, to follow my B.A. We'll see. Both of my parents have something like 3 degrees each, so getting a double masters would be par for the course, and what is expected. And now I've crossed into ramble mode. I'm tired.

I'm feeling lighter, and heading towards optimistic. My smile is just a tad bit wider.

"And now I'm walking in a park
All of the birds, they dance below me
Maybe when things turn green again
It will be good to say you know me
Oh, it's taking so long
I could be wrong, I could be ready
But if I take my hearts advice
I should assume it's still unready
I am in repair"

Today, I Give A Damn.

2010-10-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

While I may not put up a mass status on Facebook or Twitter, I fully support purple spirit day - fighting hate crimes, LGBT equality, and putting an end to bullying. I look at what has happened over the past few weeks, and I am completely embarrassed. How can we, a society that prides itself on accepting others, a generation that wants to bring about change and be different, encourage the things that were going on years ago to continue? I won't preach, but I will stand strong. People are people, regardless of their sexual orientation. Perhaps it was always being in dance and theatre, or maybe growing up with two homosexual uncles, that desensitized me to the fact that people who are gay are considered "different". I always just thought it was natural. Love is love. You can't explain it, or justify it, and no one should have to. I support every PERSON, regardless of whether they love men or women, as everyone should.

SIGN UP, and help support and spread the message:

http://www.wegiveadamn.org/

Whoa.

2010-10-18T13:16:00.001-07:00

I NEED TO UNPACK

I'm so overwhelmed by all the crap I have, and all the boxes floating around my aparmtnet. There is also a severe lack of furniture (hopefully being remedied soon!), and a massive (I mean massive) overflow of clothing. Seriously, it's a problem. There is no way I wear all of it, and yet, somehow, I can't seem to get rid of it. I always think "Well, I might wear this one day...I might need this for something...", thus the insane amount of boxes simply filled with fabric. Problem number two: where do I put all of said clothing? I couldn't bring my armoire with me because it's gigantic and really wouldn't fit in my apartment (so now I have to throw it away...sad), so I only have a closet and a dresser. A dresser with 6 little drawers. Yikes. I also need another bookshelf (apparently two isn't enough), and a coffee table, and a sofa, and some sanity.

IKEA! I NEED YOU!

That is all.

Bad Assery

2010-10-13T16:25:00.000-07:00

Successful Halloween shopping trip (well... after 4 stores, but still):

That's all the blogging I have the energy for tonight. I'm not quite used to all this NYC walking! J'ai fatigue.

Why Hello, Brooklyn

2010-10-07T20:54:00.000-07:00

The Empire State Building is glowing orange tonight. I can tell you this simply because it's what I'm starring at as I sit on my bed with the window open, while the dull roar of street traffic and Spanish music blares in the background. I can feel the stress draining out of my pores and dissolving from the cloud that has been looming over my head since last January. I have nothing unpacked, and no energy or true desire to do so just yet (which could simply be due to pure exhaustion). I'm surrounded by half opened boxes and empty shelves, and a carpet that is badly in need of vacuuming. The sound of airplanes flying low and echoing over the river continues to remind me that I’m just that close. All the walls are white, and we don’t have a couch or coffee table. The furniture we do have is covered in the dust of hand-me-down-love and mismatching wood tones. I hung Christmas lights up and down the banister almost 3 times, and then made about 8 miniature origami stars from Matt’s jar. I feel overwhelmed and completely at peace, and while many things in my life are uncertainties and flurries of chaos, I feel content in knowing that I’m here - wherever “here” may be. So while, yes, I have a lot of things to figure out, and a lot of life to experience now, I’m starting to truly believe that things will fall where they are supposed to. Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what’s happening now.

"Wake up naked drinking coffee,

Making plans to change the world

While the world is changing us

It was good good love.

We used to laugh under the covers

Maybe not so often now

The way I used to laugh with you

Was loud and hard

So what to do

With the rest of the day's afternoon, hey

Well isn't it strange how we change

Everything we did

Did I do all that I should?"

2010-09-28T09:08:00.000-07:00

I am really terrible at updating this thing. And I'm 90% sure no one reads it. I suppose it's been a very transitional time, the past few months. I most definitely just wrote that like Yoda. Although, that would be more like "a very transitional time the past few months have been", but who's checking?

I have partially moved into my new apartment in Brooklyn, and will complete said move next week, once Seussical is over. Big dark secret? I'm scared out of my mind.

I'm turning 25 in 5 days. That's a big scary adult number. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that.

Work is work. I like it, but I'm ready for the next step already. I think it's time to go back to school and delve into everything I always wanted to, but was too afraid to do it for fear of failing at it. I need to remind myself that I do, in fact, know what I want, and I'm going to go after it.

That's about it for now. I used to be much better at this.

2010-07-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

"Just because I think gay dudes should be able to adopt babies, and everyone should drive hybrid cars, doesn't mean I don't love America *wink*"

-Liz Lemon is my idol.

And We're Back. Maybe.

2010-06-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

I love my new job!

For those of you just tuning in, I have started a new chapter, one that I like to refer to as "Adulthood", subtitle "I have a real job and soon will be paying bills and rent like the rest of society, yay!". Strange that I'm pleased about a strict regulated schedule and additional responsibility? Heck no. I'm apartment searching with the lovely Christina (and maybe Rachel!), working an awesome 8:30 to 4:30 day, weekends off, 4 weeks of vacation, 12 holidays, 12 sick days, FREE full health benefits, AND, to top it all off, I'm doing something I actually care about, that has a future and potential. I like all the girls in my office (yes, an office of all women under the age of 37, watch out hormones), and I'm in a bangin' location city-wise. The commuting isn't my favorite, but I won't be doing it forever. Just, good things.

The two Asian girls I work with came in today wearing exactly the same outfit. Down to the nail polish. I wonder if they are taking over the world.

I don't think I ever realized how truly toxic my last work environment was until I was out of it. Not to say the people were bad, but the whole vibe and attitude of the management was plain nasty. My entire demeanor changed, and I didn't even realize it had gone south. Here, I can be myself, and be happy. I can take days off without worrying about being fired or written up like I'm in high school. I can take a real vacation. I have actual responsibilities in my job. I was hired and instantly trusted. I feel like I fit in here, like I know what I'm doing. I can make decisions and changes without worrying, and I'm responsible for myself. I freaking love it.

Best perk? In-office Keurig in every kitchen, and an endless flow of eating-out-of-the-jar-Nutella. Bliss.

Holy Rusted Confusion, Batman.

2010-02-14T10:18:00.001-08:00

I ask you an important question - is it worth it to take a job that is not anywhere near what you want to do or in your area of expertise just because it is offered to you and has a decent sized paycheck? Or do you hold out for other opportunities that are in the works?

I went on an interview for a receptionist job at a fashion company in New York, and as glamourous as it may or may not sound, it's not really what I want. The pay would be fine, and the location is ideal, if not perfect - but I don't want to be a receptionist. And it's not a job where I can work my way up and end up writing or doing what I want. It's a secretarial position where I'll be doing nothing but answering phones and emails, and getting people coffee. Plus, the interview was awkward and uncomfortable and a total of ten minutes long after an hour and half commute into the city. Now, they want a second interview to hire, and I have to decide if it's worth it - even though I'm leaning towards the negative.

The thing is, with the way the economy is, I would be stupid to turn it down - but I don't think I would be happy, or even content. I feel like I would be smarter waiting for some of my contacts to come through - my meeting with one of the higher-ups at the Food Network, my contacts at YAI - places where I would be happy. And I suppose I could take a receptionist job and quit after a month, but I don't know if I could do that.

Thoughts, ideas, suggestions? They are much appreciated, seeing as how I am entirely at a loss for what to do!

K-Turn Baby

2010-02-01T20:45:00.001-08:00

The Job Hunt Has Begun!

Well, not so much begun, as been revamped. I've taken on a m

ore aggressive approach, and I think it's working! I'm re

ady to move on. I would say I need a start fresh, but it's not that I need a fresh or new start persay - I need a start in general.

When you're a kid and you're going into middle school, you think you're life is just beginning; Then you finish middle school and think high school is where you finally find yourself; After donning your blue cap and gown and being rained out from your football field graduation, you pile into the gym and announce your next four years to be the start of it all; and when four years turn into five, and your massive education overhaul i

s complete, you know it's just the beginning. However, you didn't plan on graduating during the worlds worst economic downfall, and you certainly didn't see yourself working in a bookstore for two years wondering what it is your really want to do with your life.

It's almost impossible to look back and have a lack of regrets - quite the contrary, really, as I have a plethora - but that doesn't matter, nor is it important. What's important now is figuring things out. Finding my place and starting something great.

It's not the beginning of my life - my life started 24 years ag

o. This is the start of my professional life. Just going on the few interviews I've gone on has helped me narrow things down a bit. I know I don't want a boring desk job, but something that means something. I want a job where I can care about what I'm doing - which working in retail does not satisfy, even a little bit. I've gotten too caught up and dragged down, and I'm ready to pull myself up and out. I'm ready to do something real and important, something I can be passionate about and love doing, something that makes me laugh and cry and want to get up in the morning. I'm actually quite excited about it all.

And that's where I'm at. I know it's been a while, but I'm ta

king this blog on a K-turn, and gearing it towards positivity and future endeavors. Bring it on!

I leave you with some Garfield Minus Garfield:

"Hilary, The Gigantic Whore", An Extremely Tall Tale

2009-10-18T22:29:00.000-07:00

About a week ago, I learned of a rumor that passed through my place of work about me - so I thought, for the people who aren't quite sure of what a rumor is, that I would share the definition of the word:

Main Entry: ¹ru·mor

Pronunciation: \ˈrü-mər\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English rumour, from Anglo-French, from Latin rumor clamor, gossip; akin to Old English rēonto lament, Sanskrit rauti he roars

Date: 14th century

1: talk or opinion widely disseminated with no discernible source

2: a statement or report current without known authority for its truth

3 archaic: talk or report of a notable person or event.

Now that we have that settled, on to the greatest story of our time. For those of you who know me, be prepared to laugh. Apparently, I am a giant whore.

I was actually just informed of this. Apparently, people have known this about me since February (I think. The timeline is still a little iffy). Turns out, someone started a rumor about me breaking up a co-workers marriage by having an affair with him. This was, mind you, about 3 weeks after I found out my ex-boyfriend had been cheating on me for about a year, and then broken up with me - so of course, I would then do the exact same thing I was heartbroken over someone doing to me. Duh!

Travis and I broke up in January, after about 5 years of dating. He was my first boyfriend, and my first love. My friend at work was having some problems in his marriage around the same time. A month or so later, when my friend and his wife separated, we began hanging out and talking a little more, because we were both heartbroken, and found solace in each others company. That sense of comfort developed into a pretty great friendship, where in which we were able to help each other heal. I had so many friends offering me love and support, but it was nice having someone at work who was going through a similar emotional roller coaster to just share a look with, and know what the other person was going through - and to know that it was okay to occasionally smile. This, however, translated to some people as something very different. Some of my coworkers took this new friendship to mean that we were sleeping together, and that my friend was cheating on his wife with me.

Does the rumor itself upset me? No. Everyone talks, and everyone gossips. What upsets me is that no one took the time to think or know me well enough to know that I would never in a million years do anything like this - especially seeing as how cheating is what ended my relationship that, I thought, was heading into a possible permanent thing. Not one person took a step back to think about what might have really been going on - they all just made assumptions. And again, I don't think it would have bothered me so much if it hadn't filtered it's way up to the management, and thereby directly affected my status, position, and reputation at work - all things I was not even aware of until the past 2 weeks. Apparently, according to some of my co-workers, a boy and a girl can't be friends without sex being involved. Who knew?

Basically, I am appalled at peoples ignorance. I didn't talk much about what happened with Travis and I because it hurt me too much - and the same goes for my work friend. It was our desire to keep our personal lives private that got us here - that, and peoples sheer boredom. Luckily, everything has been straightened out - to the people that matter, anyway - and things are looking up. Like, sky rocket high.

I don't think people realize how hurtful gossip and rumors can be. I, for one, am just as guilty as anyone else of gossiping - though I know I've never tried to intentionally create problems for anyone else. I'm not sure what drives people to hurt others - whether it's insecurity, jealously, or just plain boredom - and maybe it's not knowing that makes a person incapable of doing so. I always said that about Travis - I could never understand how he could cheat on me, and lie to me for so long - but maybe it's good that I don't understand it, because without understanding, perhaps I am incapable of doing the same. Maybe the same proves true here.

I will say this: I absolutely believe in karma, and things happening for a reason. I went through a few months of crap, but I'm coming out stronger on the other side, and I'm glad for that. I know who I am, and what I'm capable of. And in the end, isn't that what matters?

Matchmakers at Work - Connecting Lovers Since 2006!

2009-08-31T01:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I received a letter. Tonight, I found said letter, and decided that even though it had no labels or markings on it, nor did it hold that pesky return address in the upper left, I would open it. It was so good, I decided to share:

"Matchmakers at Work - Let us reconstruct your love life."

Really? This is the mail I'm getting? Someone out there thought this is what would spark my interest in the dating world? Words of advice, "Matchmakers at Work" - don't open your letter with "Dear Single Friend". I'm not your friend - I don't even know you, and I'm a little concerned as to where you think you know me from. And quite honestly, the name makes it sound like a charity dedicated to helping the homeless find love.

I decided to Google (as I do with everything - note the Pimp-slap vs Bitch-slap entry), and found the best. website. ever. seriously: http://www.matchmakersatwork.com/

Allow me to share some of this glorious (and by glorious, I mean most depressing-kick-you-in-the-knee) letter with you. I have bold faced my favorite parts:

Dear Single Friend,

We are sending you this letter because we at Matchmakers at Work know that wonderful compatible matches don't just fall from the sky. In our busy everyday lives, most people go to work, run a few errands, and come home. The odds of bumping into Mr. or Miss Right within these parameters are slim to none.

At Matchmakers at Work we will do all the work for you. We want you to entrust us to take care of your love life. In order to do so we will need to know your likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests and your dreams for the future. At Matchmakers at Work we say shoot for the moon! Tell us who your ideal mate should be, who do you envision yourself with now, and where do you see yourself in five or ten years from now.

Life is too short to be with out someone who absolutely adores you and you them. We at Matchmakers at Work are confident that we can find that wonderful compatible person who is right for you. We are dedicated to making you happy and helping you find the love of your life.

Please fill out the confidential profile form below and send it back in the prepaid envelope enclosed or contact us directly so that we can start reconstructing your love life today!

Fascinating. And based in Lawrenceville New Jersey? Sign me up! And then shoot me.

Simple Simple Minds

2009-08-20T21:43:00.000-07:00

I know it's 4 days past it's importance, but seeing as how it's still relevant, I thought I would share:

Lynette Fromme Released After 34 Years

Who thinks this is an awesome idea?

Moving on. Tonight at work, I was, yet again, amazed at the level of stupidity people can achieve. One of my coworkers asked me what my ethnicity was - and then proceeded to answer the question by saying "Jewish, right?". I think I would be more shocked if this were the first time someone had asked me this question. For sheer entertainment purposes, I will now divulge the conversation that occurred (completely out of the blue, mind you):

Anonymous Coworker: Hey, so like, what ethnicity are you? Like, Jewish?

Me: Um. What?

Anonymous Coworker: You're like, Jewish, right?

Me: "Jewish" is a religion. Like, Christianity, or Catholicism. It's not an ethnicity.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So you're from like, where then, Israel, right? 'Cause it's not like, Hebrew.

Me: ...No.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So like. You're not Jewish?

Me: No, I am Jewish, but that's my religion. Actually, Israel - which is a country - has a lot of different religions. People from Israel are called "Israeli".

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So like. Don't all the Jewish people come from there?

Me: ...No.

Anonymous Coworker: So you're not Hebrew?

Me: That's a language.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh okay, cool. So what's your ethnicity?

Me: I'm a mix of a bunch of things.

Anonymous Coworker: So you're not from Israel?

Me: ...Sure.

Amazing.

Always One Foot On The Ground

2009-08-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

I added these little fishies at the top of my page over there. If you click on the box somewhere, you can feed them and make them all crazy-like.

The past few days have been really weird - for example:

Early today when I checked my email, it was all in Hebrew. Really?
I had an insane dream two nights ago - I was present for a terrorist attack in which all the people affected had to go through this massive anti-radiation machine (I blame the fact that I was watching The Ten right before I went to bed, and saw the vignette with the cat-scan machines), and the side effect was that it turned you purple. Everyone got out okay.
I have misspelled my name 4 times in the past 3 days.
My computer moo-ed when I turned it on. Like a cow. Moo.
I watched Coraline three times. That's not so much weird, as slightly pathetic.

There were other things, but it's almost 2 am and I can't remember them. I should really start writing more things down.

My birthday is in a little more than a month, and I've decided that 24 is going to be a great, great year - and fingers crossed that I'm not jinxing it by mentioning it. 23 kind of sucked, and I think I'm ready to move on. I know changing a number doesn't necessarily mean anything, but I think it will be a really important milestone for me, and I want to make it positive. I need it to be positive. I'm really ready to grow up. I just wish I weren't so darn impatient with myself.

Also, Mia turned 4! Picture sampler...

Mia and her girlfriends

Awesome Whole Foods cake!

Partying is a very serious business

Honestly. Could she be cuter?

She got fishies for her birthday!

Abandoned Beach

2009-08-10T18:14:00.000-07:00

If she wants to rock, she rocks, and if she wants to roll, she rolls...

Holy roller coaster of a summer-thus-far, Batman. I don't even really know where to begin or finish or pick up or leave off. In a nut shell? Camp was awesome, as always, the bookstore was frustrating, and Assassins was one of the best shows I've done in a long time.

And at the end of it all? I feel more trapped then before. I'm in a never ending loop. I want to move out of my house, so I work. I try and make and save money, which is why I am living at home (and also because I don't have enough money to quite make it on my own yet). However, my mother insists I pitch in, money wise, because she doesn't make, well, any money at all. So I'm stuck - I work and live at home so I can save, but I can't save because I have to pay for everything (minus rent- although rent may even be cheaper). Not to mention I practically make peanuts at Barnes and Noble. It's a joke. It's insanely frustrating.

I've even started feeling sorry for myself lately, which is so unlike me. It seems as though everyone around me is figuring out their lives, settling down, starting anew, whatever - except for me. I'm not looking for a pity party, I'm not trying to write about how sad I am, or how lonely I feel - I just thought I would be somewhere by now. I thought I would know what I wanted to do, or have found a direction to lead in to, or something. I feel like I'm just floating in nothing. I'm not satisfied with anything, I'm not even content. I'm restless and frustrated all the time, and it's a terrible mix of anxiety and desperation and uneasiness, and it's constant.

I feel like (cue cheesy musical theatre reference) that stupid puppet from Avenue Q, desperately seeking a purpose, specifically my purpose, in whatever it is I'm supposed to do. Maybe I just need to know or hear that this is normal. That it's okay to be almost 24 and unsure of everything. To be still living at home with a desperate want and need for an adult life, a job, and the prospect of a future - and I feel as though I have none of that. I just thought I'd be on my way by now.

I suppose I'm overwhelmed and I don't know quite where to go from here. If everyone else can do it, can everyone else please show me?

I'm reduced to making mac and cheese and curling up on my couch and watching John and Kate Plus Eight. It's a (Daria reference drumroll) sick sad world I'm stuck in.

This Is Beyond Camp College Signs

2009-07-28T20:24:00.001-07:00

Alright. I'm going on very little sleep. But this had to be shared.

I have always told stories about campers and customers at the various jobs I have held throughout the years, and no one ever believes me. Therefore, hence, etcetera, I've decided to start writing them down.

Tonight, for example, one of my all time favorite customers was in the store. This woman (let's call her Anne, since I don't know her actual name) comes in at say, 1, maybe 2 in the afternoon, and doesn't leave until closing. Anne pulls about 70 different books from the business section, stacks them all up at a table, reads through some of them taking notes, and then when we close, she gets up and leaves, leaving all the books behind for us to shelve. It should also be noted that she wears a GIANT white sun hat at all times, and sometimes wears sunglasses in the store. Apparently she was asked not to come back to the store a few years ago, but has suddenly begun making appearances again.

There is also the man who comes into the children's section sometimes, walks to the little stage we have, faces the wall, and begins to pray to Allah. I guess the wall is East?

Let's not forget my favorite - we'll call him John (again, I try not to familiarize myself with these people because they freak me out). John comes in to the cafe about once a month. He purchases exactly 4 cupcakes, and 2 sugar cookies. He then sits down with his desserts, and begins to take off all the icing from the 4 cupcakes, and place them on the 2 sugar cookies. He then eats the two cookies, and throws away all 4 cupcakes, sans icing. It's a whole process, really.

Honestly. I could write a book. Camper adventures are soon to come! For example, remind me to tell you about how, today, I spent 15 minutes looking for a campers' wallet she supposedly left at lunch, only for her to say "Oh, I think I left it in my lunch box, I didn't check there" after we walked all over campus. Oy.

2009-07-24T00:12:00.000-07:00

ASSASINS - KELSEY THEATRE - FRIDAY JULY 24th - SUNDAY AUGUST 2nd

Seriously. It's awesome, and I use a gun.

The Fourth

2009-07-04T19:55:00.001-07:00

You know when you read the first sentence of a book, you know immediately you're going to love each and every word you absorb? I picked up "Post Grad" by Emily Cassel a few days ago at work, and immediately fell in love. To be perfectly honest, the book first drew my attention based on it's cover (I know, tisk tisk Hilary!), which includes a picture of Alexis Bledel from the soon-to-be-made-into-a-movie-ness (also including Jane Lynch and Carol Burnett, holy cow!) but as soon as I opened the cover and read the first sentence, I was hooked.

The book is about a young girl who is just about to graduate college with her B.A. in English, and wants to work for a publishing house, reading and editing books, and hopes to discover the next big novelist (um, hello). Unfortunately, even though she has excelled through high school and college with high marks and scholarships, she is just not able to grab that perfect job, and is forced to move back home and live with her crazy family, all the while being rejected from all jobs she applies for, and feels like her life is headed straight for nowhere-land-ville.

It's as if they studied my life for a year, and then wrote everything down, and are now making some serious profits off of me.

Hi. They even stole my shoes.

In other, less promotional news, the Fourth of July - a day which normally means squat to me - was really tough to get through. I worked pretty much all day, but had very few customers and very little to do, which led to large bubbles of time in which I was able to stand around and think about the past 5 Fourth of July's, all of which included Travis. I don't think I ever did anything on the Fourth until I met him, but once I did, we spent it together. We both always had that day off, him with the bank, me with camp, and I would always drive up North, and we would go to one of his friends' houses for a BBQ, or drive into Brooklyn and climb up a scary window-ladder and eat burgers up on the roof of his brothers' apartment building, or spend an hour driving around Hoboken finding the fireworks park with a bunch of his guy friends (including a stop at a shut down police station to ask for directions), sitting out watching four fireworks shows over the river, and taking 4 hours to get out of the insane parking lot afterwards. Instead, I spent this year being yelled at by rude customers, followed by sitting at home alone and watching old Gilmore Girls episodes - normally an activity I would kill to have time for doing.

I think what's happening is this: the idea that I am not getting over this break up as quickly as I thought I was - or as quickly as I thought I would be able to. I'm not bouncing back, and I'm not happy about it. I think I always assumed, foolish as it may be, that he and I would end up together - probably because these are things we sometimes talked about. And perhaps it's ridiculous to think that your first love will be your only love, but I thought I was one of the lucky few who fall in love only once. To have something so solid in your life become something nonexistent overnight is earth shattering - especially when I'm a person who needs to feel as though I have some control over the things happening in my life (I mean come on - I had dreams for weeks about all my teeth spontaneously falling out of my gums, one by one, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out).

I suppose I thought I was stronger - or lead myself to believe I was tougher than I'm turning out to be. And I guess that's okay - but it certainly doesn't make it any easier. Why is it that the person who cheated and lied is the one who gets to move on so fast, and get to sleep at night - when the person whose heart was broken is stuck sitting up nights, still hurting 5 months later, and wondering what's ahead?

I know it takes time. Everyone told me it takes time. July 13Th will be 6 months, and it's certainly easier - but it's not where I want to be. I still miss. I don't know if I still love him or not - I've never gone through a serious breakup before. I certainly feel as though I won't meet anyone, or that I'll never heal thoroughly enough to move past this. I just never saw myself here, in this place, still hurting and still thinking, and part of me still hoping he hurts too. I'm really looking forward to that day when I can stop caring, at least a little bit.

I usually love fireworks. I couldn't bring myself to go this year - but they're shooting them off down the street, and it's all I can hear.

The Freeman and Wells 42nd Family Reunion

2009-06-23T18:49:00.000-07:00

With the exception of my car, this amazing new Macbook Pro is possibly the greatest and most fantastic investment I have ever made. That, and it falls under the category titled, "So expensive I probably will be broke forever but it's totally worth it". Worth every penny.

Not being connected to the human race via the inter-web did open my eye to some scary realities...

1. We are far too reliant on technology. I didn't have consistent email communication for about a month, and I felt as though I were in withdrawal from heroine. Not only that, but the lack of YouTube bruised my soul a little... especially when I would hang out with friends, and everyo

ne would be quoting the latest YouTube sensation, and I had to pull a Joe

y and just nod and laugh along, even though I had no idea what was going on. That's right. Play your tiny violin for me.

2. Facebook is both a blessing, and possibly a malediction. True story: I literally missed outings and events with friends because I was not able to check the events calender on my Facebook account. I have actually lost touch with people because, for a month or t

wo, I was unable to stay current on Facebook. People don't CALL people anymore! Unless it's a last minute get-together, everything is done through the events page. Granted, I am just as guilty - it's great being able to reach a whole group of people and

friends and get an idea or message across within minutes. But come on. A friend of mine got annoyed with me when I didn't respond to her event in a timely fashion; I missed notifications

about multiple outings with people from some shows I've done recently; I almost missed a friends birthday celebration because I couldn't get on the site. While I understand and appreciate the invention of such a glorious networking tool, it's frustrating to actually miss parts of life because my nerd-machine crashed.

3. I got more sleep without having a computer in my room - and got more reading done to! All during college, I would throw a DVD into my laptop right before I got into bed, and would fall asleep with a movie or television show playing - I never realized how much time I spent actually paying attention to what I was watching instead of sleeping. It's a little pathetic, I know, but I actually noticed myself waking up more rested, and realized that it was because I was falling asleep sooner. I'm also convinced it has something to do with not having noise going in the background, even though I'm asleep and can't hear it. In addition, in the month I had no computer, I finis

hed reading 4 books - and I'm a very slow reader.

When it comes down to it? I'll take the computer, thanks. Especially when it's all silver and pretty, and the little apple on the outside lights up while the computer is in use. What can I say? I guess I'm a shallow inter-web addicted insomniac. But I'm alright with that.

For those interested, meet my new baby:

Yes. I'm obsessed.

2009-05-04T22:41:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the lack of updates - my computer crashed. Again. Super cool, right? But fret not, loyal followers (all...8 of you?), for I have made a life altering decision that will forever change me. Ready?

I'm buying a Mac. If I could make the words glow and sparkle and sing with fanfare, they would.

Hip Hop Hooray, Gurl. See you soon!

Sham Ow

2009-04-06T21:08:00.000-07:00

I have to much to share, and so many stories to tell - but this, currently, takes the cake.

I'm not-so-secretly in love with horrible infomercials - everyone who knows me knows this. However, currently, I have two absolute favorites - The Snuggie ( I mean, hello. It's a blanket you wear and can do all your daily activities in, without having to worry about those troublesome blankets!), and the Sham Wow. You can, therefore, imagine my distress when I learned the following news: Sham Wow man was arrested for punshing a prostitute in the face! I laughed. I cried. I found this fantastic footage online:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmK8PH4KhM4 v=JmK8PH4KhM4

I know this is relatively old news, but I've been busy. Plus, while my cast and I were at Uno's last night, the story came on tv. And I peed my pants a little.

Let It Be

2009-03-29T22:32:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning to realize that there are some things in life you can never have resolution to. This is ridiculously hard for me, as I am a big supporter of whole conflict resolution movement. I've always taken situations into my own hands, and handled them in the best possible way I could think of - including going to those I see as being trustworthy and strong for advice. And it's because of this, that I constantly see my biggest flaw exploited, repeatedly, and without my even being aware of it until after the fact: I'm simply too trusting, too quickly. I also don't listen to myself enough, or go with my initial gut feeling. Goal for self - stick with intuition.

I guess I just feel as though I can never find a steady balance - between trusting too much, and trusting too little. A person can't go around spilling their secrets to everyone they meet, because people are blabber mouths and gossip queens, and need to keep themselves occupied with others' lives. I believe they call this "High School". But I could be wrong. On the other hand, if you never open up, you can never let anyone in, and never let anyone get close to you, and therefore never be close to anyone yourself. So how do you know? How do you sift through the muck to get to the good stuff, the high-end quality furniture you should surround yourself with?

Perhaps this is just something you struggle with when you've felt or been betrayed by someone you feel closest to, and this is the final aftermath - the last pieces of the puzzle you're left with to sort through. Except this puzzle is 5,000 pieces, and it's just the different blues of the ocean.

On a more uplifting note, Godspell has been a fantastic experience, and as cheesy and lame as it may sound, I feel like I've come out a slightly different, and slightly better person in the end. Everyone told me that doing this show is less of an experience, and more of a journey - and up until a week or so ago, it really didn't click with me. This show, and this cast, helped me through one of the harder things I've had to deal with in my life, and I don't know if I would have been able to turn it into a positive, had I not been surrounded with the people I have spent the past few weeks with. I know I've changed, and I know for the better. I've rediscovered some of who I may have lost over the past few years, and I feel like I'm starting to come into my own, as an adult. The past two and a half months have truly been a life changing experience in a thousand and one ways, and I don't know any other way to describe it or explain it. I look back at myself just a year ago, and realize how much of myself I was holding back. How much I watched my step, and my tongue, and hid some of the quirky. I am allowed to be myself. I can be myself, and I can be happy and okay with that. Bonding with this cast has been the perfect example - I was completely myself and honest with them, and they embraced me as such, no questions asked. That is how it should be. And for the first time in months? I'm no longer questioning that. Or myself.

And when the night is cloudy,
There is still a light, that shines on me,
Shine until tomorrow,
Let it be.

Love and Complaints

2009-03-16T23:22:00.001-07:00

I've always had a secret love of John Stewart. Watching him completely destroy someone on television blew my secret love into an all out affair. I mean, hello, Stud Muffin. Check it out HERE!

Also, HBO is re-making Grey Gardens into a movie again, starring Drew Barrymore. Did no one see Christine Ebersole's unbelievable portrayal of Little Edith on Broadway? Or in 42nd Street? The woman is amazing! To be replaced with Drew Barrymore? I'm not setting any expectations.

Spring Time For...

2009-03-15T19:47:00.000-07:00

The past few days or so, I've been feeling overly stressed out, tired, and kind of gloomy. Meanwhile, all my still-in-college friends are on their much-needed spring breaks - and that's when it hit me. Last year, this exact week was my spring break - my body is aching for spring break whoo-whoo! It wants to get in a car at 11:00 at night and drive to Myrtle Beach, no stops, with 3 drunk guys in the backseat. It wants to take a train to the St. Patricks Day Parade and spend 3 straight hours walking 5th Avenue searching for green beer, only allowing an enormous green Margarita to be it's substitute. It wants to sit all night on the beach surrounded by booze and smoke, just to watch the sun rise, and a chance meteor shower, or drive down to LBI to shoot a friends short film and spray paint shells in the sand - and wonder if, even now, people are still finding those.

Instead, I will be working at Barnes and Noble, helping rude, un-thankful people search for books for over 20 minutes - only to find them an hour later sitting on a random cafe table, not purchased. This is not what I should be doing with my life. I almost feel like I would be getting more gratification going back to waiting tables at this point.

I told myself I would stay for one year - one year to save up some money, get my benefits, and move on. If September first rolls around, and I'm still here? I'm moving anyway, with or without a job opportunity. Decision made!

::edit::

Also, remember the famous "25 things" phenomenon? Apparently it's back, only this time with a different title - "44 things", or something equally stupid. I've decided, instead, to just repost my original. That makes 50, so suck it.

1. I love cottage cheese.
2. I tell people I don’t know what it is I want to do with my life because it’s easier than trying to defend the truth.
3. I could live off of chocolate.
4. I hate sour cream and guacamole.
5. People often ask me if I’m part Asian. I don’t know why. I don’t think I look it even a little bit.
6. I dance around alone my room in my underwear all the time. Everyday, if I can help it.
7. The people in my life I feel closest to are the people I see the least.
8. I’m terrified of not accomplishing something great.
9. I wish I were just a little bit stronger.
10. I have never felt popular.
11. My Dad took me to see over 300 Rutgers football and basketball games when I was little. My favorite parts were the hotdogs and the dance teams.
12. I miss my gallbladder. I do not miss being sick anymore.
13. I think I was born in the wrong decade. I should have been born in the 70’s.
14. Freshman and Junior years in college were my favorite.
15. In 2nd grade, I got sent to the principles office with Fiona, Jan, and Fokion, because Fiona and I were running during indoor recess, and Fokion sat on Jan. We all got yelled at, and I never told my Mom.
16. I love getting flowers - just not all roses. I think they smell kind of funny.
17. I’m terrible at accepting compliments.
18. In 6th grade I tried to dye pink streaks in my hair because I thought it would make me cooler. It just turned my scalp red for a week.
19. Mrs. Findley was my favorite teacher of all time. I still think about her often.
20. I talk to myself, and have done so since I was about 2
21. I desperately want to travel to Europe, but flying to another country scares me.
22. My oldest friends are scattered all over the country, and I miss them.
23. I’m happiest when I’m dancing, and I don’t care whether or not I’m good at it.
24. I watched Saved By The Bell whenever it's on.
25. I love the Spice Girls. They spice up my life.

Obsessions and Their Consequences

2009-03-12T19:08:00.000-07:00

I'm completely obsessed with the new Lilly Allen CD. Download it now, thank me later.

She's quirky, intelligent, hilarious, her music is catchy, and her lyrics are fantastic - what else could I want in a musical artist? For them to British. OH WAIT - she is. Full package? Yes. And she's only 23 years old. So unfair.

"Pop sensation. Voice of her generation. Fashion designer. Political activist. Mouthy blogshite. X-rated sexpert. Fall down drunk. WAG-tagoniser. Queen of Myspace. Exhibitionist. Primidonna. Style icon. Celebrity girlfriend. Celebrity daughter. Celebrity sister. Paparazzi prey. Party starter. Princess.

Lilly Allen has been called all these things, and much, much more - sometimes with justification, often without. She's posh, she's common, she's sexy, she's demure, she's reticent, she's outspoken, she's sensitive, she's shameless, she's loved-up, she's distraught, often all in the same evening. Then she goes to bed, gets up and has breakfast. Then she posts her breakfast on the Internet. Then other people analyse her breakfast. And wonder why she posted it on the Internet.

Contrary, contradictory, occasionally catty, always compelling. Allen, at 23, is Britain's most consistently engaged and engaging pop star, as well as one of our most successful."

Her first album is amazing, but her second takes the cake. I love her almost as much as Mika. Perhaps more so.

Life's about film stars and less about mothers
Its all about fast cars and passing each other
But it doesn't matter 'cause I'm packing plastic
And that's what makes my life so fucking fantastic

And I am a weapon of massive consumption
And its not my fault its how I'm program to function
Ill look at the sun and Ill look in the mirror
I'm on the right track yeah I'm on to a winner

I don't know whats right and whats real anymore
I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore
When we think it will all become clear
'Cause I'm being taken over by The Fear

The Shoot Gilmores, Don't They?

2009-03-03T21:35:00.000-08:00

"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see"

I found a fortune (like from a fortune cookie) on the ground today, which makes two for this month. I'm starting to think the Chinese food Gods are trying to tell me something. That, or people are clumsy and don't throw away their garbage. Either way, I could use the luck.

Also, for Rachel Yucky:

The Ruby Red Sneakers!

2009-02-28T23:40:00.001-08:00

Tonight I recieved the greatest gift of all time, from the most thoughtful and hardworking people I've ever worked with. I couldn't help but brag.

Mad. Props. Pennington Drama. You guys are, officially, the coolest.

2009-02-23T18:35:00.000-08:00

The next few weeks, including this one, are really big, crazy, insane, exciting, and important ones. I know it shouldn't matter whether or not he knows or cares, but it's all I can think about - these are weeks he was supposed to be with me, that I was going to be able to share with him - and I doubt if he even remembers.

I don't mean to generalize, but how is it that men's brains are so unlike women's? How do two humans from the same species work so differently? Not to say that women don't cheat, because they do - but in this circumstance, how can two people be such polar opposites, when just weeks ago they seemed so similar?

What I still can't seem to wrap my mind around is this: how did I not know? I mean, I know how I didn't know - because I didn't, and he's an hour away living a separate life - but how was he able to hide it so well, and be okay with that? How was he able to sleep at night, knowing all along that he had cheated on me, twice? I just have so many questions - questions in which I now know I will never get answers to - and so much I want to say and know and have resolved. But I can't. I can't ask him, because aside from getting nowhere except the land of frustration, I just get upset, and obviously no one else can speak for him, or tell me the exact reason as to why his actions were as such.

Things I do know? He is a coward, and an insanely insecure one at that. He showed no respect for me, or for what our relationship was. He is a liar and a cheater (and everyone knows that never changes - as I should have seen from the start). He has no conscience, because if he did, he wouldn't have done it, let alone be able to sleep at night for a year. Worst of all, he is someone entirely different than I thought, and he is not a good person. Good people don't treat others like this.

I hate that I still think about him so much. I hate that I still wonder what he is doing, and that every Saturday rolls around, and I become such a mess, because I know he's going out and having the time of his life, not even thinking about me or how he left me. I hate what he left me with, and the fact that I feel ruined for the next person. I hate that this will always somehow be with me, and my ability to trust others is effected for what seems like forever. I hate that I lost respect for the first person I truly loved. I hate that this is how it ended. I hate that I cry at night over him, because he doesn't deserve my tears. And I hate him. I hate him for doing this to me, and treating me this way, and for the overall person I now see he is.

The worst thing? I hate that I still love him, and that I still can't really hate him for what he did. And part of me still thinks I'm going to wake up, and things are going to be right again - that maybe this is just all some Oz-like dream that feels so incredibly real, but in reality I was just knocked around in a tornado a little bit.

I just want to feel like myself again. I just want out of this foggy cloud, and I just want to be happy. I just want to find some peace. It seems as though that's a lot to ask for.

The Tale of Lucky

2009-02-10T19:08:00.001-08:00

Tonight, I discovered that if you lie on the floor in my dinning/living room with your ear against the carpet, you can hear my neighbors talking. Either that, or there are baby gremlins hanging out in the pipes.

About 5 or 6 years ago, my one set of neighbors got a dog - a little adorable baby beagle named Lucky. They walked him everyday for about a year. Then we stopped seeing him. Ever. We assumed something had happened - maybe they gave the dog away, or maybe he got sick, who knows. However, a few weeks later, we heard howling (As only a beagle can do) coming from what seemed like outside. I went in my backyard to see if there was a dying dog (because that is what it sounded like), but to no avail. Yet, the howling continued. This would happen every few weeks, sometimes for a few nights in a row, sometimes only once in a while. Ghost dog, you ask? Demon puppy, perhaps?

No. Our neighbors simply keep their little pooch locked in their basement. At all times. I know this, because I finally followed the howling, and it led to their basement, which has a window, which allows a person to see a dog trapped howling inside. WHAT.

My mom is convinced that they are just breeding dogs, and then eating them. I think they're aliens. Either way, I think it borders on animal cruelty - because no one on my street even thinks they HAVE a dog, and think we're nuts when we say they do.

Actions to take? Call SAVE, I guess. However, from my understanding, they don't really do anything, and then, I'm convinced, my neighbors will know it was us, and poison my cat or something.

I wonder if I have ever accidentally eaten dog?

2009-02-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

I know it doesn't matter, and I know it won't help, and I know it's negative, but

I think she was a blonde. And I think he can just bite me. Despicable.

2009-02-08T14:18:00.000-08:00

I know this has all become less objective, and more personal. It's just the way it is.

I hate feeling sad. It's how I feel almost all of the time right now, and the only word I can think of to describe it is "suck". It just sucks. When a person is such a big part of your life for so long, it's really hard to not have it there anymore - especially when you thought it was something you wanted.

I have always heard people say that when someone breaks your heart, it literally feels as though your chest is breaking in to pieces. I was never able to understand that until now - though it's not something I'm proud to feel. I was driving home from rehearsal today, and as a song came on that reminded me of him, my chest physically started to hurt. I miss him. I miss having him in my life, I miss being able to call him up and tell him everything that's going on, sharing the good and the bad, having him reason me out when I'm being unreasonable, quoting movies, laughing, and just being.

Whether or not it's the case, it seems as though I was able to lift right out of his life, no questions asked. It was as though I were not important enough to cause a rift. How did this happen? And why was it happening all around me without my knowing? Why did everyone else know, and I was the last to find out?

Cheating sucks. I don't understand it, nor do I think I ever will. And I am okay with that.

Garfield Minus Garfield

2009-02-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

During the festive holiday season, I came across a book, which is based off of a website - Garfield Minus Garfield. As stated at the top of the site:

Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb.

Ah. Mazing.

I have literally spent hours just laughing at these. Hours. Hilarity ensues.

Gone Crazy, Back Soon

2009-02-01T21:27:00.000-08:00

I'm not entirely sure what to say anymore.

I do know that I have some supremely incredible friends, and without them, I don't necessarily know what I would be doing. They are, quite literally, keeping me sane. And I am honestly having fun - I've gone bowling, gone out for drinks, seen movies, and tonight, went to a really fun Superbowl party, where I actually had fun. Which means there are actually times when I'm not thinking about the situation, or him. Which is good. Of course as soon as I realize I haven't been thinking about it, I think about it. But this is a good first step. Hopefully the time spans of not thinking about it will start to get longer. It's like rehab. Apparently, I suck at rehab.

I think I need to clean out my entire room, completely. I think I need to take things down and rearrange. That, and my closet is filled with crap, and needs not to be. Plus, my walls are a little too high school/college. I need to adult-ise it.

I hate that this is all I can write about right now, and I apologize for it. It's taken over my life, and I despise it, but it's all that's on my mind. He changed his status on Facebook, which I know, is stupid, and it's just Facebook - but it really upset me. I saw "single" in print. It felt so hard, so real. It was a slap in the face I was not ready for. Although I do take back all the overly dramatic statuses I put up. But who was thinking logically?

I'm just tired of cowards. And I hope that one day, I'll meet someone that would never dream of doing this to me, or anyone, for that matter. Someone who would never cheat on me, who would communicate and talk to me when something was wrong, someone who would never lie, or treat me like the nothing I'm beginning to feel like after all of this. Someone who will love me as much as I love them, and who will truly want to share their life with me. I hate that I thought I had that, and within moments, it was just swept out from under me. It's not fair, and I didn't deserve it. No one does.

It's good to write it out.

It Happens Every Day

2009-01-24T21:46:00.000-08:00

My original intention with starting this blog was as follows: to write. I simply wanted to make sure that even though I was no longer in school, I kept myself active. It's so easy to slip into not writing, especially after spending the past 5 years doing nothing but. I certainly took enough time off to realize that it's just part of who I am, and as long as I have something to write in, I'll do so.

My first creative writing professor said the following:

"Allow yourself 20 minutes a day to write. Find a corner, a tree, and desk, whatever, and sit down and write. I don't care if it's a novel or a grocery list, eventually, something is bound to come out of it. If you take nothing else but this advice away from this class, then I've done my job."

Easier said then done, yes, but it does work. I get myself in the habit, and then it becomes a drug - I can't stay away. Granted, this is not my first online venture - we've all had the "Teen Open Diary", the "Xanga", and my personal favorite, the "Live Journal" - but I'd say this is my most symbolic and productive. I write what I can, when I can, and if only one person reads it? Then at least one person is reading.

I've also been trying incredibly hard not to write about what's been going on in my life, because part of me feels like it's no ones business. Part of me knows the second my relationship status on Facebook changes from "in a relationship" to "single", a flood of messages and wall posts will follow. Granted, it's great that people care and want to offer sympathy - but what about those people who I haven't spoken to in months or years, who simply message me because they want "the dirt"? As much as I love to hate/hate to love the social networking tool that has become our online lives, I can't stand how impersonal it can all become.

Part of me is afraid to change anything because it makes the situation more real, and seemingly permanent. I don't want to explain the story to every living being, because it's still far to painful and fresh. I'm not looking for sympathy, but friendship.

That being said, it's amazing how my close friends have truly rallied behind me. They have been so wonderfully supportive, listening to me cry, answering my repetitive and ridiculous inquiries, calling me everyday, texting with me nonstop, or spending their lunch break standing with me instead of sitting and eating lunch. I've been keeping myself as busy as I can, because every dull moment leads to spinning thoughts and images that drive me insane. Picturing him with her, having fun, living his life, while I'm stuck picking up the remains alone. Looking back, and knowing that the relationship may have been over in his mind for almost a year, and I had no idea, just wishing things had been handled differently, that he had just talked to me. I have these moments of complete desperation, feeling as though nothing will ever be right again, I'll never find happiness, not alone or with someone else, and just feeling so completely alone and rejected. I feel as though there is literally a hole in my chest, and if a heart could actually break, mine has done so.

I have actually gone two days without crying. Of course I say that now, who knows how tomorrow will be. It's hard just to get out of bed in the morning. I'm always sad. I am not a sad person, and all I feel now is sadness. Perhaps it's too soon, but considering what he did, I should be unbelievably furious and angry - yet all I can do is miss him and want him back. The way he was - not this new person who lies and cheats.

I spent a year knitting him a scarf. It turned out beautiful, and I gave it to him for Christmas. I put my heart and soul into that scarf, and I feel as though every stitch was filled with my love for him. I don't know if he will ever wear it now. I just hope every time he looks at it, he sees me, and knows what he did, and how he ruined something wonderful - and someone.

I told a friend how I felt it was so unfair that he could cheat on me and suffer no consequences, no fallout for the actions - he cheats, we break up, and I'm miserable. Her response was simple: The universe evens everything out, eventually.

I guess we'll just see. Eleven days and counting. This blows.

All Over The Place

2009-01-18T00:45:00.000-08:00

The past 7 days have been a surreal blur.

I don't think that's really the right way to explain it. Maybe, more like a horrible, horrible nightmare I haven't been able to wake up from. The worst part about it is that when I do, eventually, find my way out of this fog, nothing will be the same.

People have always said heartbreak is the worst feeling in the world. I never truly understood what they were saying until now. It's cliche, I know, but it's completely and utterly the truth.

A huge chapter in my life has just ended, and I'm not really sure where to start picking up the pieces. Here I am, caught in one of my very first moments of non-hysterics in the past week, and I'm pretty proud of myself just to be able to sit and write, well...anything at all, for that matter. This is a good span of moments.

To be completely truthful, I keep feeling as though my life is ending, nothing will ever get better, I'd rather die than feel this way, etc.,etc.. And even as I write this, I feel my spirits circling the drain again. But if everyone else in the world can do it? If Ellen DeGeneres can do it? Then so can I. Right?

Tonight was the first time I actually laughed all week, thanks to my spunky little kitten who tried to eat my moms face. Immediately after, I started crying, almost as if I caught myself in the act.

Tonight was also my brothers birthday. It was really hard because he was supposed to be here. I'm really mad at him for not being here.

Everyone is telling me that I'm a great person, full of life and ambition and everything that's good - that it's his loss, not mine, that I will do great things and go far and be better off. Maybe I'm just not there yet, but, to me? If I'm so "great" and all of the above? Why doesn't he want me? Why am I not good enough? If I'm too "good" for him as everyone says, then why am I being dragged through the mud? What did I ever do to deserve this? All I ever wanted to do was love him and make him happy, and receive the same in return - why, then, am I left alone, wadding through the puddles he left me in?

I know, the incessant ramblings of a girl who's going through a breakup, typical blah blah blah. My logic is this: maybe another girl going through the same thing will stumble through here and feel just a little bit less alone with her thoughts. And if not, maybe it was just therapeutic for me to write it out for a few minutes.

But dammit. This fucking hurts.

Yo Gabba Crappa

2009-01-09T21:39:00.000-08:00

Over the summer, I was having lunch with my co-workers in the cafeteria, when I accidentally stumbled upon the scariest thing I have ever seen. Maybe ever. This "nightmarish monster", as I like to call it, takes it's form in a children's television show on Nickelodeon. It consists of a skinny male creeper in an orange jumpsuit with a giant German-type fuzzy helmet and extremely large glasses, an over-sized boom box circa 1982, and miniature puppets that come to life. Occasionally, Elijah Wood drops by to "Dancey Dance". What is this horrific monstrosity, you ask?

Yo Gabba Gabba. Yikes.

Created by the Aquabats (as in the band - WHAT?!), the show consists of 5 figurines-turned-giant-costumed-humans: Brobee (a green monster with arms too long for his body), Muno (a bumpy red cyclops), Foofa (a pink flower bubble, apparently), Toodee (the blue cat-dragon) and Plex (the yellow robot who lives in the closet). With their fearless leader, aka "DJ Lance Rock", they learn about manners, having parties in their tummies, and dancey-dancing, all illustrated through song, dance, animated sequences, and occasional rock-out performances by well known musical groups and bands, like The Shins and Supernova (double WHAT), and celebrities like Tony Hawk (teaching skateboarding), Mya, the aforementioned Elijah Wood (again, teaching the "Puppet Master" Dance). Wowzers indeed.

I give this show 2 thumbs up for creativity and being bizarre, and 1 thumb down for being the creepiest shit I've ever seen. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, I would give this show a Q. Remember when Nick Jr. supplied us with decent television entertainment? Does no one remember David the Gnome, Eurekas Castle, or the ever popular Elephant Show? Epic Fail.

Over-stimulated much? Not to mention the random bursts of dancing children, specifically (and he is my favorite of the bunch), Nathaniel? I can't tell if he's really angry, or pooped his pants. Either way, he's my pick for America's next William Hung

Real Life? Yikes.

2009-01-05T19:46:00.000-08:00

"If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. Do what you love and fuck the rest."

When I was about 5 years old, my mom got me purple cowboy boots. I guess they were really cowgirl boots, since they were purple and suede, and made to fit a little girl, but either way, I wore them with everything, and I wore them everywhere. Then I stumbled upon the book Chesters Way by Kevin Henkes, followed by Lillys Purple Plastic Purse, where one of the characters, Lilly, always wore red cowboy boots. With the exception that Lilly was clearly a mouse, this character was me. Lilly was a carefree soul, who jumped and danced and sang as she strode through life, one simple day at a time, swinging her purple (though, I think it may have been violet?) pleather-synthetic purse through the air.

The other day I was sorting through books at work, and Chesters Way emerged through the pile, staring me straight in the face. I sat down and read the book. Followed by Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse. For those brief moments, I felt five and simple and wonderful.

It's getting hard to see through the fog of money and necessity. I'm starting to see how people so easily lose their hopes and dreams the day a diploma is placed into their hand - and it frightens me to think that I could so efforlessly do the same. It's so easy to get comfortable and settle, because money makes life a little bit easier, and things like food and electricity are pretty much essential to living.

My dad and I have had numerous arguments and fights about this very topic, and my school loan payments start in just a few days. I'm starting to see the things I want get further and further from my grasp, and the dullness of the everyday is now becoming the ordinary. How can you save for a life and a future if you are constantly stuck paying for your past?

A few weeks ago I bought a new pair of boots. They're not quite cowboy, and they're not quite purple - but it's certainly a start. Right? Post-college life is not the ideal dream I had hoped it would be. I'm not living in my own apartment on the Upper East Side. But I'm getting closer.

When I Discovered YouTube, I Didn't Work For Five Days

2008-11-06T23:22:00.000-08:00

I literally just spent the past 30 minutes google-ing my name, followed by google-ing my friends' names. It's weird seeing other people out there with the exact same name as you, doing things like cinematography, or working in corporate America.

I highly suggest that you google people you either don't like, or have beef with as well - some very interesting facts emerge. More on that to come, for shizzle.

This is my last weekend of The Rocky Horror Show! I'm so upset, I LOVE this show, and this cast, and everyone involved (for the most part?). More on that as well, when it's not 2:30am and I don't have work in 6 hours.

Inspector Gadget

2008-11-02T20:30:00.000-08:00

Much has happened in the past 3 weeks! And so much more is ahead! Whoa!

Two weeks ago, on October 20th, I had emergency gall bladder surgery. What?! Yes. No way! It's true. At 23 years old, I had over 100 gallstones floating around in the nasty little non-vital organ, which caused over 8 hours of pain, an ambulance ride, 4 days in the hospital, surgery, and lots of morphine - and now I'm good! Sore, but healing. I didn't have much time to recoperate, with Rocky Horror opening this past weekend. I'm so happy to have made it back, because it's probably the best production I've done at Kelsey to date, and our Midnight show on Halloween practically sold out with crazies. Love it. I just wish I was able to dance 100 percent. I'm probably at 85. And that does not float my boat.

In high school, someone read my palm, and said that my palms life-line had a split in it, and that some sort of health problem might come along and put me out of commission for a split second, but then I'd be back. If I decide that I do, in fact, believe that, then let this have been my split second please! I'm crazy.

One more weekend of Rocky Horror (but I love this cast, could it last forever please?), then two weeks of The King and I, and then I start one of my two new choreography jobs that I am so excited about! I'm going to be choreographing the winter musical for The Pennington School, and then The Wiz at Kelsey! Plus I want to audition. For other shows, not those. And work. Which, if they don't start giving me more hours, I need to find a new job. Awesome.

See? I'm completely scattered. I would freelance forever if I could. Except as of now, I'm broke. Like, I literally don't have a dollar to my name. And I just got pulled over for the first time last night for NOT running a red light. Cops are jerks! I'll fight! And I'll win. Because I'm pretty. And wear a green skull bra in Rocky.

Go-go Gadget scatterbrain!

Ewwwww

2008-10-10T22:33:00.000-07:00

The largest centipede I have ever seen just ran across my living room floor. I wasn't wearing any shoes to step on it with, so I grabbed the first thing I could find to throw at it, which happened to be a box of tissues. Failure. Then I grabbed the next thing on the table, a newspaper - but it was only the first page. Strike two. Then I grabbed the giant yellow phone book, and smashed it like, 5 times. I was so grossed out I just left it there under the phone book (hopefully dead, I'm too freaked out to check), and now I feel like I have a thousand legged creatures crawling all over me. I think my life just flashed before my eyes. I have to go vomit now.

Iced Tea and Milano Cookies, Please?

2008-10-08T21:44:00.001-07:00

Today at work, Meredith, one of the Cafe girls, said I was cool.

I've been getting a lot of 7am shifts, which, suprisingly, I am really enjoying. I have in no way gotten used to the whole getting-up-at-6am-and-being-awake deal, or the going-to-bed-at-a-decent-time-so-I-get-more-than-4-hours-of-sleep shebang, HOWever, I love being in the store for two hours prior to being open. There is an actual peacefulness and quaint vibe that circulates through the dust covered bays and endcaps that omits a sort-of relaxed aura. That, mixed with the smell of freshly ground coffee and slightly burnt oatmeal-raisin cookies, really sets you off on a good start for the day. At least for the first two hours, before the customers come in.

This is also about the time when I secretly sneak over to our cafe and order my new liquid crack: a grande soy hot chocolate with a squirt of pumpkin syrup. We're not actually allowed to be served when we're on the clock, but I don't care. I'd shoot that pumpkin syrup through my veins.

This morning, as I slid behind the New Fiction Release Bay to obtain my drug-of-choice, Matt jokingly whispered "Excuse me Ma'am, but we don't serve working employees". I simply tilted my eyes upwards and to the left, as I pulled on my nametag, releasing it from my neck (thanks strangle-free lanyards!), and then smiled sweetly without saying a word. This then prompted Meredith to reply with "Ha, she is so cool!" .

Now lets be real - any of you that know me know for a fact that "cool", is no where near a word that would describe me. Slightly quirky, maybe. Randomly spastic and clumsy? Perhaps. Cool? No. Yet hearing her say that to me made me feel just the slightest bit, shall we say, cool. Even if only for a quick moment, before dropping my nametag at my feet, then having to crouch down and accidentally crack my ankles on the way to pick it up.

I guess it's just nice to know that there is always someone, somewhere, that thinks you're cool. And I just like that picture. It makes me feel even cooler. Jealous?

Tina Fey deserves An Oscar. For Awesome.

2008-10-05T20:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday Night Live has become, well...terrible. It's awful. With the exceptions, of course, of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler (Wet Hot and UCB fame!), the show has literally fallen down a well without a rope. However. Watching the VP Debate SNL style proved to be far more entertaining than the actual one. Since the NBC link is all kinds of messed up, I leave you with this oddly disturbing skit you can't help but laugh at. Maybe because it makes you so uncomfortable?

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

2008-10-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

I always tend to pull this blog up right as I'm about to head to sleep, and then get distracted and write. I'm still playing with this. A strictly factual blog? A whatever-is-on-my-mind blog? I usually set out on these ventures with some sort of idea of where it's heading. This one is blind and can't find it's glasses.

I turned 23 yesterday. It was rather uneventful, and slightly disappointing. I don't know what it is I expect - I'm 23 years old, not 8. Birthday's aren't big deals, right? Yet, somehow, I expected something different. Something special. From someone special, maybe? I tend to find myself repeatedly...disenchanted, perhaps. I can't seem to place it. I think that's always been a slight problem of mine - I have extremely high expectations of almost everything I do and everyone I meet - but shouldn't I? Is it not important to set high standards for yourself? I have friends that have told me they set their expectations low - that way, they are never disappointed and consistently impressed. I don't agree with this at all, and I don't care if that makes me a snob (which, now that I think about, may be the exact definition of such a trait?). In high school, my mom used to say I was a cultural snob because I was always going to museums and galleries and shows. I take it as a compliment. I'm cultured!

The occasional feeling of disillusionment has never sat well with me, and I don't intend to keep it around. It's literally that little cartoon dark cloud following me wherever I go. I feel guilty and culpable and almost constantly anxious, all view points I don't agree. Gloomy! That's what it is. I feel gloomy. Maybe it's the rain we had last week. Maybe it's my birthday, which now seems to come along with a slight depression. Maybe it's a who.

I'll call. I *love* the fall.

Someday, I'll Write A Book About This

2008-09-17T22:11:00.001-07:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Without meaning to, a great deal of said thinking has been spent sort of perched on the idea of my own social life - shallow, I know - but what else is a post-grad supposed to do without homework and papers and staying up late watching crappy game shows and listening to Yoko Ono with her roommates? In case you were wondering, I have now, officially, been up for almost a full 24 hours.

I think my main concern is what to now do with whatever moment of spare time I find. I'm used to my life being so rigidly structured - by my own choosing, mind you, but nonetheless, planned and firm, with the added bonus of late night spontaneity, and the occasional splurge of Starbucks or Carvel. I feel as though that has been taken from me by the educators who decided I was ready to move into the real world, which I have yet to determine if I even like. I don't want to turn out to be one of those people who go from school to school, adding on degrees and checking out more loans, just to avoid to ultimate result of having to actually live life and pay my debt to society with a check made out to scary-loan-place. It's utterly daunting! And I don't think I anticipated having this much trouble adjusting. Especially considering that adjusting from high school to college, while mentally, unbeknownst to me, may have taken 4 years to prepare for, took me physically a week to settle myself into my new environment. Now it's taken me over 4 months to re-adjust to what has been my surroundings, my home, for going on 23 years.

I picked up a book at work today, called "Ramen Noodles, Rent, and Resumes", and so far it's told me nothing new. Maybe alliteration is just not the answer, author Kristen Fischer. And FYI - Ramen Noodles suck. Cup Noodles it's what up.

I suppose this is all part of the process, the stages of adjustment. I just can't see myself settling - working a desk job, maintaining a balanced checkbook and having enough money for food, rent, and my insurance all in a two-weeks paycheck. Maybe the extra stress of not having a comfy cushion to fall back on is what makes it all so worthwhile and fulfilling? Or maybe these are simply the confessions of a scared little girl who still can't break her nail-biting habit, who, until the age of 11, couldn't sleep over at other girls houses, and who, at the age of 17, took her security Big Bird to college? What's worse is I still get the feeling of uneasiness when I'm not in a bed surrounded by some form of a comfort zone. How can a girl like that be ready to tackle anything major alone?

Hopelessness is not a feeling I crave, or have a desire to hold on to much longer.

Politics, Much?

2008-09-14T21:13:00.000-07:00

I tried. I did, I can't hold it in any longer. May we PLEASE discuss the horrible, horrible political boohockey we're currently surrounded by?

Flat out - I am about as Democratic as you can get. I am pro-choice, I watched every speech in the DNC, I hate people with ridiculous amounts of money (which may just have to do with the fact that I don't have any, and nothing to do with a political party), etcetera, and so forth. However, if I hadn't been a democrat before? This last repub move has CERTAINLY pushed me far over the edge that never even needed to exist. Oy.

Politics seems to be the only thing on the news these days - and with extremely good reason. The name most recently stirring all the buzz? Sarah Palin - everyday hockey mom from Alaska, and residential dumbass who, and I quote, believed that just 4,000 years ago, dinosaurs roamed the earth. Really?

What do we know about her? Enough to make me know that if McCain is elected, and then dies (which I believe I heard is considered an actual possibility? yikes.), and the great V.P. Palin becomes president, I'm moving to Canada. The woman was a beauty queen who doesn't believe in gun control, has children with the names Bristol, Track, and Trig (...), a 17 year old pregnant daughter (how so Jamie-Lynn), just recently obtained her very first passport (and is so proud!), and when asked if war with Russia was on the table, she said we'd go. Yeah - because we're not already in a military strain.

The thing that bothers me the most, is that THIS is the woman who is causing Obama to lose supporters. This past-her-expiration-date beauty queen could actually be our president. And no one is afraid of this because? I'm honestly worried. This woman says that if a woman is raped and becomes pregnant, it would be illegal for her to have an abortion - and SHE could be the one holding the nuclear codes to take us to war with Russia, who has enough nuclear power to end civilization as we know it. She is an embarrassment to not only me, not only every woman, but to every person in this country with the ability to graduate high school. She is an insult to my own intelligence, and I'm not buying any of what she's selling.

We're supposed to be on board with her because she is the "every woman". If she is the every woman? I'm moving to Canada and getting a sex change operation. I was a hardcore Hillary supporter (and not only because of the fantastic name she upholds), but I will vote for Obama over Palin one million times over.

Fill In The _______

2008-09-12T21:32:00.000-07:00

Life has been throwing me a few unexpected curve balls recently, and I have politely asked for it to stop doing so. However, Life, like Mother Nature and even my very own Mother, does what she wants. Therefore, I have decided to share these kind words with you, as expressed by an old friend of mine, Nina:

"Be true to yourself and to others - and always believe in the MAGIC of dance."

I underline dance, so that you can replace it with whatever your passion or heart may find desirable or necessary. I think it's important not to hold on to words and advice, but to share them. Maybe someone out there will stumble across these and find them helpful to them. Or perhaps I'm exhausted, frustrated, and it being after midnight, simply spent and out of anything extraordinary to write.

I am, however, very excited about King and I rehearsal tomorrow. I adore this cast, and even more so, my kids. I miss school.

Favorite two words of the day: Ubiquitous and Retroactive.

I leave you with this:

Promised Land

2008-09-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

I know it sounds cliche and lame, but music is an art form that I truly believe holds immense power - both in communicating a message, but also (I know, SO lame) healing. I can be having the most horrible day of my life, and I can put in a song that can help flip my entire mood around, or just backup the one I'm in and make me feel a little less alone about it. I can be in an amazing mood and be able to pop in a CD to keep me pumped. Whatever the situation, I have always been able to find a song to match, whatever the moment.

That being said, Dar Williams is one of my all time favorite singer-songwriters, possibly ever. I must admit that yes, I may have a slight obsession with her - but it's totally healthy! One in which I refuse to buy her music off of places like iTunes (which, I also must admit, I am hardcore invested in) because I want her to get as much profit as possible because she deserves it. I also signed up for her fan mail doohickey's, and occasionally get fun information and mass emails from Dar along with being able to promote her music. I have also seen her like, 6 times in concert - maybe more? REGARDLESS - her new CD came out today, which I of course immediately purchased, and no sooner had I ripped open the package and stuffed the CD into my car stereo, did I fall in love with it. I know it, again, sounds cliche, but this woman's music got me through so much - the transition from high school to college, my first serious heartbreak - everything.

THEREFORE, I highly suggest you take a listen to Dar Williams newest release, "Promised Land". It may just change your life. And while you're at it, check out her live CD, "Out There", because it has much of Dar's witty, witty banter. Fantastic. A+.

Of little or no substance, but...

2008-09-08T22:27:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I'm currently obsessed with the song. Maybe it's because I love me some Christina. Maybe it's because she just had a baby and looks fan-fucking-tastic and can move like a classy stripper, I don't know. What I do know is that Christina Aguilera's performance at the VMA's last night (which, for the few minutes I watched, sucked donkey - I hate Russel Brand) was bizzanging - so much that I don't even care if she wasn't really singing. I want to be her backup dancer. And what kind of person would I be if I didn't include the video to share?

She makes me want to be freaking Batman. Or Catwoman.

In other - possibly less, possibly more - important news, my Aunt is preggers again. She named the last baby Tyronne, so I'm thinking if she has a girl, it might be a Shaniqua or Channel or something equally...appropriate. Right?

2008-09-07T21:57:00.001-07:00

Tonight my Mom and I were watching a movie, and during the commercials, we decided to check out what else was on. Now I'm not sure if you are familiar with the show "Talk Sex" with Sue Johanson, but if you're not? I suggest you spend approximately 4 minutes with Madame Johanson - not for the sexual education, no no no. Watching a woman who is approxiamately 150 years old answer the question "If my boyfriend and I are having anal sex, and he ejaculates inside me, will my butt get bigger?", and keep a perfectly straight face. Mad props to Sue.

She also has little body figures (like those artist models) that she used to demonstrate sexual positions, and sometimes takes either a vibrator or a model of a penis and demonstrates various sexual acts. What a babe.

Go, Green, Go!

2008-09-05T21:31:00.000-07:00

I have never doubted the Global Warming situation, and always knew it would quickly work it's way into our lives during my generations lifetime - but I don't think I ever expected myself to buy into the entire "Going Green!" industry as quickly as I have. List of things to prove my point thus far? Yes, please.

1. I bought one of those special-non-cancerous-super-good-for-the-environment water bottles - though I must admit the slightly selfish end of that spectrum - I don't spend money on buying individual water bottles anymore. It's lightweight, it's made entirely out of recycled materials, and it's fuchsia and so pretty!

2. I am slowly but surely purchasing those pre-recycled bags that almost every supermarket is now carrying, and using them for everything under the sun - from books to shoes! I even picked one up at work today because it was so gosh darn cheap, and insanely adorable, with sayings such as "I used to be a plastic bottle". Oh come on now.

3. Peace out paper lunch bags - I gots myself a lunchy-box! Now I'm just a nerd. I even use reusable Tupperware containers instead of zip locks, foil and saran wrap. And yes - my water bottle fits onto the outside of the bag. Boo-ya.

4. I've always been insane with the recycling thing - no change there. Although my mom read something about caps not being recyclable, so now she's like a bottle-cap crazy, double checking everything we throw in the bin. But good for her, being conscientious.

5. Now, working at a bookstore, I simply can't get behind the whole "borrow, don't buy!" concept, because honestly? Nothing says indulgence like the smell of a brand new book. I do, however, buy from local farms more often than chain supermarkets. There are two awesome stands down the street from me - and Fedoras totally supports that, go them!

6. Turning down the air conditioning sucks. But I do it. But I'm not happy about it! And you know how I am with my air conditioning. I think I'd live in an igloo if I had the option. Unfortunately, if I don't continue to turn my air down, I won't have an igloo to grow old in.

SO, that's that. Check it out! But beware. the lady on the screen talks.

http://www.wecansolveit.org/?source=GoogleSearch

Welcome, To My Home

2008-09-04T20:35:00.001-07:00

My newest obsession:

Brenda Dickson.

Brenda Dickson is a former soap opera star who once played a featured villain on The Young and the Restless in what I believe was around the mid-1980's. Currently, however, she is known for her insanity and her divorce trial (where she was caught on tape giving a Nazi salute?), which resulted in her 3 or 4 day jail stint for refusing to vacate a condo she lost in the settlement. This lead to an amazing discovery: Brenda Dickson's 1987 videos "Welcome to My Home" - a pseudo-documentary in which the gorgeous Brenda literally takes us on a tour of her house (which, by the by, begins in her bathroom - clue of whats to come?). Within the first few moments, Brenda takes us into her Living Room, in which she remarks (all the while in a bright gold dress), "Why Hello! Welcome to my Living Room, only through the magic of Hollywood. Do you like this Gown? It's very dramatic.". Later, we are taken into her closet, introduced to her dog (who is apparently a very important part of her exercise routine), and later taken to her kitchen, where she introduces her cat, "Snow", and then exclaims how very hungry she is. While holding the cat. Yikes.

The best part - some genius with nothing better to do took this glorious footage, and dubbed over it. I highly suggest you stop whatever it is you are doing, and watch a video that will change your life:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO65OlAhEJg

The Sad Tale of the Beauxhommes: A History Lesson.

2008-09-03T17:40:00.001-07:00

SERENDIPITY: an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident - good furtune, luck

We are indebted to the English author Horace Walpole for the word serendipity, which he coined in one of the 3,000 or more letters on which his literary reputation primarily rests. In a letter of January 28, 1754, Walpole says that "this discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word." Walpole formed the word on an old name for Sri Lanka, Serendip. He explained that this name was part of the title of "a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of...."