So tomorrow I withdraw from BU. The last possible day is July 1st, so its now or never I suppose. I removed my last post because it was mopey, and that's just not how I roll.
I think this is it for the blog, though. I'm not sure if anybody has been reading it anymore, and to be honest, I haven't had the desire to write. A chapter of my life has ended, so I figure I can package this up with it. I had fun, and I hope you enjoyed it. Someday I'll read these posts like I occasionally read my high school xanga, and lament about how long I worked at Subway. If you take one thing from this blog, I hope it is that you should put underwear on your head at night.
Thanks guys!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Vindictive Food Shopping, Workin' at The Office, and Tryin to Get That Oprah
So I haven't been updating too much lately. While the obvious reason for my absence would be my mundane life, the truth is, I can't find the cord to put my pictures on the computer, and without pictures my blog is nothing. I have a YouTube video for you, though, hence the update.
Let's do this in list form, just like the good ol' days (of two months ago? those days weren't so good, actually...uhhh.)
-The other day my mother asked me to do the grocery shopping while she was at work. I happily obliged; as most of you know, I have an inexplicable affinity for grocery stores. As my mom handed me the two grocery lists (because she started one, forgot, started another, and put completely different things on each,) she remarked, "Remember, if a sign says 'Two for One' get two. Do whatever the signs say." I was shocked! Was she insinuating that I am not a good sale shopper?
Well, yeah, she was. I went to the grocery store and bought a couple of odds and ends...the usual microwave dinners we eat weren't on sale, so I bought different ones. I wanted fruit snacks, and they were on a great sale, so I bought three boxes. The whole grain bread I wanted wasn't on sale, but the whole wheat was, so I bought two loaves. As the checkout lady handed me the receipt, I looked proudly upon the $13.95 savings on the $66.00 bill.
As I unloaded the groceries from the trunk, though, I realized that I bought some weird shit. I had shopped vindictively, and now we have 30 baggies of Snoopy fruit snacks to prove it.
Scratch workin' at the office-- I'll update about that in another post.
And as promised (BLAST THIS LOUD!):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbDEds3jxRw&feature=PlayList&p=EB9D5FB2EA082489&index=0
Let's do this in list form, just like the good ol' days (of two months ago? those days weren't so good, actually...uhhh.)
-The other day my mother asked me to do the grocery shopping while she was at work. I happily obliged; as most of you know, I have an inexplicable affinity for grocery stores. As my mom handed me the two grocery lists (because she started one, forgot, started another, and put completely different things on each,) she remarked, "Remember, if a sign says 'Two for One' get two. Do whatever the signs say." I was shocked! Was she insinuating that I am not a good sale shopper?
Well, yeah, she was. I went to the grocery store and bought a couple of odds and ends...the usual microwave dinners we eat weren't on sale, so I bought different ones. I wanted fruit snacks, and they were on a great sale, so I bought three boxes. The whole grain bread I wanted wasn't on sale, but the whole wheat was, so I bought two loaves. As the checkout lady handed me the receipt, I looked proudly upon the $13.95 savings on the $66.00 bill.
As I unloaded the groceries from the trunk, though, I realized that I bought some weird shit. I had shopped vindictively, and now we have 30 baggies of Snoopy fruit snacks to prove it.
Scratch workin' at the office-- I'll update about that in another post.
And as promised (BLAST THIS LOUD!):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbDEds3jxRw&feature=PlayList&p=EB9D5FB2EA082489&index=0
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
horndog.
Today I sat on the train and watched the raindrops hit the window.
The way the rain slid across the glass, the droplets looked like those pictures you'd see in textbooks of spermies.
Now, we are adults here, right? Considering I know all five of my readers, I'm pretty sure I can safely say we are all in the 18+ group. If not? Eh.
So now that we have that cleared up, I want to talk about lusting after strangers. As I sat on the train, watching the rain-sperm-drops glide across the window, I thought of all the times I fallen in love with people on mass transit, in waiting rooms, from across classrooms, in chemistry lab, at the library, at sporting events, etc. I am not going to ask if you all do the same, because I don't want to know if I am the only one who does this. I thought back to the first time I after lusted after a total stranger. I was 15 and on the N24 heading home from Kellenberg. For whatever reason, I was alone on the bus that day and didn't get my normal seat. As we hit the Mineola hub, a bunch of day laborers got on. I still remember so vividly the guy's face. He had to be anywhere from 25 to 30, and something about him looked quite Native American. I was in awe of him. To get biblical, I coveted him. Wanted him. Whatever you want to call it. My 15 year old self was confused. My current self has had about 932 experiences since then that were exactly like that.
Another notable time: coming home for winter break, freshman year. A man with dark skin, blond hair, and an Australian accent got on the Accela and sat directly across from me. I was enamored.
Unfortunately, his face has completely faded from my memory. I just remember his hair and guitar case.
Sigh. I do wonder when I will stop being a 14-year-old boy (albeit, a 14 year old boy who is attracted to boys.)
The way the rain slid across the glass, the droplets looked like those pictures you'd see in textbooks of spermies.
Now, we are adults here, right? Considering I know all five of my readers, I'm pretty sure I can safely say we are all in the 18+ group. If not? Eh.
So now that we have that cleared up, I want to talk about lusting after strangers. As I sat on the train, watching the rain-sperm-drops glide across the window, I thought of all the times I fallen in love with people on mass transit, in waiting rooms, from across classrooms, in chemistry lab, at the library, at sporting events, etc. I am not going to ask if you all do the same, because I don't want to know if I am the only one who does this. I thought back to the first time I after lusted after a total stranger. I was 15 and on the N24 heading home from Kellenberg. For whatever reason, I was alone on the bus that day and didn't get my normal seat. As we hit the Mineola hub, a bunch of day laborers got on. I still remember so vividly the guy's face. He had to be anywhere from 25 to 30, and something about him looked quite Native American. I was in awe of him. To get biblical, I coveted him. Wanted him. Whatever you want to call it. My 15 year old self was confused. My current self has had about 932 experiences since then that were exactly like that.
Another notable time: coming home for winter break, freshman year. A man with dark skin, blond hair, and an Australian accent got on the Accela and sat directly across from me. I was enamored.
Unfortunately, his face has completely faded from my memory. I just remember his hair and guitar case.
Sigh. I do wonder when I will stop being a 14-year-old boy (albeit, a 14 year old boy who is attracted to boys.)
Monday, June 8, 2009
The quick update
I haven't updated because I have been caught up in the whirlwind of corporate life. Ninety hour work weeks, coke binges, and cheating on my wife with the secretary.
Or more like 32 hour work weeks, commuting to the beautiful town of Jericho, lunches at Whole Foods, and working in a rather unintentionally humorous office.
I am not going to bullshit to you and tell you that my life is fabulous-because it isn't-but I can also say that it isn't nearly the mess it had been the last few months. Things have been getting back to the status quo, and it's been really nice.
It's late and as a very important business woman, I'll recap some of the highlights of working very quickly.
-Today, I prepared receipts for one of the older employees' pending audit. She asked me whether I needed the receipts from September 2008 or 2009. I had to restrain myself from saying "2009! It's an audit from the futureeee." After she asked ten more times, though, I kindly let her know that September 2009 hasn't happened, so we don't have those receipts yet.
-After lunch, I went through the bills for the company credit cards to see if they matched the employees' receipts. Rental car, airfare, business lunch, airfare, airfare, 12 donuts. In the middle of all the travel expenses, somebody included a receipt for 12 donuts from Dunkin Donuts and wrote it off as breakfast. And it just kept going from there. An Edible Arrangement for "client discussion," $18 worth of potato chips for a "business meeting," a bill from Hank's Famous BBQ, an unexplained $41 spent at 7-11
-Last Sunday, the night before I returned to the office, I tried on a couple of outfits for work. As I stood there in my plain gray skirt and pink button down shirt, I actually started to laugh. My work clothes didn't include a visor. I didn't have to wear all black. No magnetic name tag. My outfit looked like I was about to run some sort of scam; it said, Trust me, I wear dorky glasses and a button down shirt.
Or more like 32 hour work weeks, commuting to the beautiful town of Jericho, lunches at Whole Foods, and working in a rather unintentionally humorous office.
I am not going to bullshit to you and tell you that my life is fabulous-because it isn't-but I can also say that it isn't nearly the mess it had been the last few months. Things have been getting back to the status quo, and it's been really nice.
It's late and as a very important business woman, I'll recap some of the highlights of working very quickly.
-Today, I prepared receipts for one of the older employees' pending audit. She asked me whether I needed the receipts from September 2008 or 2009. I had to restrain myself from saying "2009! It's an audit from the futureeee." After she asked ten more times, though, I kindly let her know that September 2009 hasn't happened, so we don't have those receipts yet.
-After lunch, I went through the bills for the company credit cards to see if they matched the employees' receipts. Rental car, airfare, business lunch, airfare, airfare, 12 donuts. In the middle of all the travel expenses, somebody included a receipt for 12 donuts from Dunkin Donuts and wrote it off as breakfast. And it just kept going from there. An Edible Arrangement for "client discussion," $18 worth of potato chips for a "business meeting," a bill from Hank's Famous BBQ, an unexplained $41 spent at 7-11
-Last Sunday, the night before I returned to the office, I tried on a couple of outfits for work. As I stood there in my plain gray skirt and pink button down shirt, I actually started to laugh. My work clothes didn't include a visor. I didn't have to wear all black. No magnetic name tag. My outfit looked like I was about to run some sort of scam; it said, Trust me, I wear dorky glasses and a button down shirt.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Two BMWs
Today I drove alone for the first time to Nassau Community College to meet a friend for lunch. It's not the easiest drive, but my mom figured that the roads would be empty at noon on a Thursday.
Wrong.
It was okay, though. I felt I did fine and I only had two close calls--both happened to be with BMWs (therefore, I will now forever be suspicious that when I see a BMW on the road, the driver will do something stupid.) My dad always warned me about two kinds of cars: SUVs, because they "don't get out of the way for anybody. They think they own the fucking road," and fancy cars, "because they are rich and think they don't have to obey the law" (My dad's words, not mine.)
As I mentioned, I only had two little incidents that really got me nervous. One is barely worth mentioning; a BMW SUV was pulling out without looking (my father's favorite type of car: both an SUV AND a luxury car.) Big deal. The second incident, though, truly was, well, ridiculous. I tried to describe it using a picture:
Figure 1: I'm in the Honda, the silver car.
So, this red BMW convertible pulled out of a parking lot right next to a very, very busy intersection (for the Long Island people: Stewart and Quintin Roosevelt.) Everybody was waiting at a red light. Mr. Old Man in a Red BMW Convertible decided not only was he not going to wait, but he was going to cut across three lanes of traffic to get into the turn lane on the far left. The light turned green, though, leaving the BMW horizontal to the oncoming traffic. For the first time in my life, I used the horn.
Now, the kind of funny part? The man was really old and in a brand-new convertible; a little too old for me to assume mid-life crisis, and way too old for me to assume he has a small...you know, (just to clarify, young man in a sports car= trying to prove something, middle aged man in a sports car=mid life crisis, old man in a sports car= end of life crisis? Too much money? Not really sure.) but no matter what his reason for having that little red sports car with the leather interior, he clearly wasn't the brightest. He was driving a convertible with the top down in the rain. I may have a five year old Honda, but at least my car keeps me dry.
NOTE: I don't really care what kind of car you, dear reader, drive. I'm not judging you. Or even if I am, it isn't a big deal. My brother drives a BMW and we crack jokes about it all the time. I am sure you are a wonderful, amazing driver in your Grand Cherokee or Lexus or whatever it is you drive. I wasn't talking about you; I'm talking about everybody else :-)
NOTE 2: Maybe he won the car on The Price is Right!
Wrong.
It was okay, though. I felt I did fine and I only had two close calls--both happened to be with BMWs (therefore, I will now forever be suspicious that when I see a BMW on the road, the driver will do something stupid.) My dad always warned me about two kinds of cars: SUVs, because they "don't get out of the way for anybody. They think they own the fucking road," and fancy cars, "because they are rich and think they don't have to obey the law" (My dad's words, not mine.)
As I mentioned, I only had two little incidents that really got me nervous. One is barely worth mentioning; a BMW SUV was pulling out without looking (my father's favorite type of car: both an SUV AND a luxury car.) Big deal. The second incident, though, truly was, well, ridiculous. I tried to describe it using a picture:
Figure 1: I'm in the Honda, the silver car.
So, this red BMW convertible pulled out of a parking lot right next to a very, very busy intersection (for the Long Island people: Stewart and Quintin Roosevelt.) Everybody was waiting at a red light. Mr. Old Man in a Red BMW Convertible decided not only was he not going to wait, but he was going to cut across three lanes of traffic to get into the turn lane on the far left. The light turned green, though, leaving the BMW horizontal to the oncoming traffic. For the first time in my life, I used the horn.
Now, the kind of funny part? The man was really old and in a brand-new convertible; a little too old for me to assume mid-life crisis, and way too old for me to assume he has a small...you know, (just to clarify, young man in a sports car= trying to prove something, middle aged man in a sports car=mid life crisis, old man in a sports car= end of life crisis? Too much money? Not really sure.) but no matter what his reason for having that little red sports car with the leather interior, he clearly wasn't the brightest. He was driving a convertible with the top down in the rain. I may have a five year old Honda, but at least my car keeps me dry.
NOTE: I don't really care what kind of car you, dear reader, drive. I'm not judging you. Or even if I am, it isn't a big deal. My brother drives a BMW and we crack jokes about it all the time. I am sure you are a wonderful, amazing driver in your Grand Cherokee or Lexus or whatever it is you drive. I wasn't talking about you; I'm talking about everybody else :-)
NOTE 2: Maybe he won the car on The Price is Right!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
MADE
Six days until I start working 9-5, so in the meantime I am trying to make the most of my days off (mostly by watching TV.) Today, I've watched Maury, The Price is Right, What Not to Wear, and Made. (I also unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, did a little laundry, and made myself some breakfast. Believe it or not, I have actually gotten off of my butt.)
I'm watching the show Made, and it has to be one of the least successful transformations they have ever featured. I watch this show and lament that I am too old to be made into anything. I want to be a cheerleader! I want to be Prom Queen (despite my high school's lack of prom)! Honestly, while I was in high school, I probably could have been chosen for the show. I always had friends, but beyond that I was pretty awkward. I didn't go on my first date until I was in college. I think I would have like to have been made into... I dunno. I was going to say cheerleader, but I disliked most of the girls on the cheerleading team. I would say dance team, but I didn't really go for those girls either. Maybe it wouldn't have worked out. Oh well.
Well, I guess I was wrong. What I referred to as "the least successful transformation" two minutes ago yielded a prom queen.
I'm watching the show Made, and it has to be one of the least successful transformations they have ever featured. I watch this show and lament that I am too old to be made into anything. I want to be a cheerleader! I want to be Prom Queen (despite my high school's lack of prom)! Honestly, while I was in high school, I probably could have been chosen for the show. I always had friends, but beyond that I was pretty awkward. I didn't go on my first date until I was in college. I think I would have like to have been made into... I dunno. I was going to say cheerleader, but I disliked most of the girls on the cheerleading team. I would say dance team, but I didn't really go for those girls either. Maybe it wouldn't have worked out. Oh well.
Well, I guess I was wrong. What I referred to as "the least successful transformation" two minutes ago yielded a prom queen.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
"Oh yeah, I got this car on The Price is Right"
At 11:00 AM I turned on CBS for my morning dose of "The Price is Right."
The opening bid is for a trampoline. I remembered how badly I wanted a trampoline when I was little, but as I watch the model jumping on it during the segment, I realize how the trampoline could possibly be the dumbest, most dangerous toy you could possibly buy for a child.
A young woman gets the closest bid for the trampoline, and before Drew Carey can announce it, she screams, "I WON!"
I realize how much I waste my life watching this damn show, and I go into my text messages to find the number to call about getting my old job back.
The woman is now bidding on something else. I can't see what. A dining room set, perhaps?
My text Inbox: 15 texts
Shit. I deleted the number.
I panic for a moment when I realize that I purged my text inbox without first copying the number of "Donna in Accounting" onto a piece of paper.
A man is bidding on a car. I find the company's phone number on-line, but instead of calling immediately, I decide to see whether or not the man will win that giant red Ford pick-up truck.
It is an intense one. He keeps coming within one number, so they keep letting him play. I remind myself not to yell at the TV if he won. I had experienced a great deal of shame during yesterday's Showcase Showdown; I told the woman on the TV what to bid, and when she did, I felt for a moment as though we really connected.
The man wins the truck. I yell at the TV. Shame overcomes me.
I call, and the woman asks me when I am coming in. I say June 1. She says that's perfect.
My shame subsides and I feel good, until the contestants on "The Price is Right" start spinning the wheel and I find myself yelling at one of the guys to spin again.
Now a particularly confused group seems to be bidding, including a woman wearing a T-shirt that says "I'm 90, Fiesty, and Ready to Spin!" Me too, old woman, me too.
EDIT: Despite what my spell check says, that is what the shirt of the old woman actually said.
The opening bid is for a trampoline. I remembered how badly I wanted a trampoline when I was little, but as I watch the model jumping on it during the segment, I realize how the trampoline could possibly be the dumbest, most dangerous toy you could possibly buy for a child.
A young woman gets the closest bid for the trampoline, and before Drew Carey can announce it, she screams, "I WON!"
I realize how much I waste my life watching this damn show, and I go into my text messages to find the number to call about getting my old job back.
The woman is now bidding on something else. I can't see what. A dining room set, perhaps?
My text Inbox: 15 texts
Shit. I deleted the number.
I panic for a moment when I realize that I purged my text inbox without first copying the number of "Donna in Accounting" onto a piece of paper.
A man is bidding on a car. I find the company's phone number on-line, but instead of calling immediately, I decide to see whether or not the man will win that giant red Ford pick-up truck.
It is an intense one. He keeps coming within one number, so they keep letting him play. I remind myself not to yell at the TV if he won. I had experienced a great deal of shame during yesterday's Showcase Showdown; I told the woman on the TV what to bid, and when she did, I felt for a moment as though we really connected.
The man wins the truck. I yell at the TV. Shame overcomes me.
I call, and the woman asks me when I am coming in. I say June 1. She says that's perfect.
My shame subsides and I feel good, until the contestants on "The Price is Right" start spinning the wheel and I find myself yelling at one of the guys to spin again.
Now a particularly confused group seems to be bidding, including a woman wearing a T-shirt that says "I'm 90, Fiesty, and Ready to Spin!" Me too, old woman, me too.
EDIT: Despite what my spell check says, that is what the shirt of the old woman actually said.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
If my measurements are correct,
My sister-in-law gave me a coupon to a popular woman's store. I began to look through their website for any good sales, when I came across a particularly cute skirt. It was called the "modern mini," and on the model it looked just below slutty length, and just above credit card length. I was taken by the price- $10! And it was red! and so very, very cute! I wanted to make sure, though, that the length wouldn't be slutacious on me.
Figure 1: Didn't meant to circle "machine washable"
Figure 1: Didn't meant to circle "machine washable"I have some spacial relations issues, so it was necessary to whip out the measuring tape and hold it to my leg. Upon doing so, I notice something of a problem. The length from my waist to my knee is actually 16''.
That's right, a full half an inch shorter than the mini skirt.
Here's the thing. I know I'm short (although, on an aside, after living for a year with Alana, I think I started to believe that not only was I on the tall side, I was actually something of a giant.) I am 5'3'' (but I know when other girls are lying about their height because I'm lying. I'm 5'2''.) According to my calculations, though, a 16.5'' skirt would only be a mini on a mutant (or Heidi Klum)--
Figure 2: Scientific calculations
So no $10 skirt for me, unless I want to look like I was wearing a red version of the Kellenberg uniform.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Megan vs The Children of New York
You knew I couldn't stay away for too long.
So I moved home from Boston this past weekend. Other than a meltdown over a cupcake, it has been relatively uneventful.
So I moved home from Boston this past weekend. Other than a meltdown over a cupcake, it has been relatively uneventful.
Figure 1: The cupcake in question. My good friend, Jessica Wanda, bought it for me as a going away present. Although my instinct was to eat it the second I opened the box, I waited so I could show it to everybody I knew. Despite talking about the cupcake for two days straight, right before we left, I popped it back into the fridge while I got coffee with my parents. About 45 minutes into the drive home, I realized that the cupcake was still in Boston. Remember that episode of Friends where Ross has a breakdown when somebody eats his turkey sandwich at work? Well, yeah. I remember that, too.
Back in early April, I signed up to volunteer in Chelsea with little kids doing arts and crafts. I got to the after school center with no problem, and as I sat waiting for the kids, I started to get a little excited. The other volunteers had all volunteered there before, and they seemed happy to be back. I saw a line of little kids parade through the sitting where we were waiting, and they all looked so adorable. Oh how naive of me.
One little kid was yelling at the top of his lungs for no reason. I should have known then. That was Enrique, my new buddy.
I would like to say that beneath these kids wild exteriors were little hearts of gold, but I cannot lie. They were bastards. Every last one of them.
I sat on a tiny chair for an hour while the kids slapped each other, tried to stand on the table, ratted out the 30-year-old volunteers to their teachers for being "mean," threw whatever they could get their hands on, ripped the paper we were supposed to play pictionary with, and tried to steal art supplies.
The hour was up and the moderators returned. The kids turned on their angelic expressions once again, and the moderator thanked the volunteers for giving our time. The other volunteers smiled and said how much fun they had and said goodbye to their kiddies.
I waved once, and ran like a bat out of hell. I don't think I felt safe until I was on the subway, speeding away from those kids as fast as possible.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
She bought her a cat.
I am going to type very quickly, as I should be studying epidemiology instead of writing this, therefore you should read this very quickly, as I am sure you are rather busy with finals, too.
So earlier today I had a large mug of Maxwell House. The caffeine, along with my surging adrenaline, caused one of those caffeine buzzes that is just a bit more than you bargained for. My thoughts were rushing too quickly, and a bunch of random incidents kept popping into my head. Among other things, as I studied substance abuse/dependence for my psych exam, I couldn't get this conversation I had with my mom out of my head:
"Did I see a cat in the [family]'s window?"
Mom: "Yeah, they promised [daughter] they would buy her a cat if she quit cocaine."
......?
So earlier today I had a large mug of Maxwell House. The caffeine, along with my surging adrenaline, caused one of those caffeine buzzes that is just a bit more than you bargained for. My thoughts were rushing too quickly, and a bunch of random incidents kept popping into my head. Among other things, as I studied substance abuse/dependence for my psych exam, I couldn't get this conversation I had with my mom out of my head:
"Did I see a cat in the [family]'s window?"
Mom: "Yeah, they promised [daughter] they would buy her a cat if she quit cocaine."
......?
Sunday, May 3, 2009
American, not British, Architects.
I spoke of this article during the week:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/4296975.stm
That is actually the British version. The American version is similar but has a few major differences; mainly, for whatever reason, in Britain the architects are miserable but the American ones are apparently pigs in shit:
http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/career-articles-where_do_america_s_happiest_people_work-569
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/4296975.stm
That is actually the British version. The American version is similar but has a few major differences; mainly, for whatever reason, in Britain the architects are miserable but the American ones are apparently pigs in shit:
http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/career-articles-where_do_america_s_happiest_people_work-569
Saturday, May 2, 2009
We could listen to Phil Collins together.
I don't want to look through my blog archive to see just how many Saturday night entries I have made, because I know that there have been plenty. I guess I'm just not really a party animal. Or, more accurately, I managed to be a bit under the weather for most of second semester.
I just jumped about a foot in half because my roommate's purse, which is about ten feet away from me, fell over. I'll miss Scotty (177's resident ghost) next year. When I'm home alone next year and I hear a noise I'll just assume somebody is breaking in.
It was quite a strange week; I'd say bad, but I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm going to Hunter College next year, but I don't know how I feel about it just yet. I need some time to try it out. Some other shit went on, but none of it is worth recounting here. I don't need any of it in print, to be honest. I'm partially ashamed of myself for expressing anger, because I rarely see it as productive; I'm partially proud for standing up for a friend--which is negated by more shame for over-stepping my bounds. I discussed it with my mother, who replied with an instant "uh-oh" when I told her expressed anger this week. I told her I never yelled at anybody, and she said of course not, "you never yell. You're scary, like the Godfather." Thanks, mom. Always know just what to say (that is sarcastic, in case you couldn't tell. Type is tricky like that.)
Sighs all around. I don't feel as down as I did last week, or even a few days ago, but now I just wish time would move a little faster. I want to forget these past few weeks entirely. I want to see where things are going. I want the future to be less muddled and just a little clearer.
Note: SCORE! No spelling mistakes!
I just jumped about a foot in half because my roommate's purse, which is about ten feet away from me, fell over. I'll miss Scotty (177's resident ghost) next year. When I'm home alone next year and I hear a noise I'll just assume somebody is breaking in.
It was quite a strange week; I'd say bad, but I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm going to Hunter College next year, but I don't know how I feel about it just yet. I need some time to try it out. Some other shit went on, but none of it is worth recounting here. I don't need any of it in print, to be honest. I'm partially ashamed of myself for expressing anger, because I rarely see it as productive; I'm partially proud for standing up for a friend--which is negated by more shame for over-stepping my bounds. I discussed it with my mother, who replied with an instant "uh-oh" when I told her expressed anger this week. I told her I never yelled at anybody, and she said of course not, "you never yell. You're scary, like the Godfather." Thanks, mom. Always know just what to say (that is sarcastic, in case you couldn't tell. Type is tricky like that.)
Sighs all around. I don't feel as down as I did last week, or even a few days ago, but now I just wish time would move a little faster. I want to forget these past few weeks entirely. I want to see where things are going. I want the future to be less muddled and just a little clearer.
Note: SCORE! No spelling mistakes!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Shame pt. 2
Last night I had an apocalyptic dream, and in that dream I was drunk.
NOTE: This post wasn't meant to be cryptic; I dreamt it was the end of the world, and on an unrelated note, I was drunk in the dream.
NOTE: This post wasn't meant to be cryptic; I dreamt it was the end of the world, and on an unrelated note, I was drunk in the dream.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Good Things to Come
Figure 1: I wrote this note to a friend in Epidemiology. I believe it is representative to how the rest of my semester will go. Cheers!Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Coffee Stains
aka things that seemed like a good idea at the time
aka maybe I do have some cognitive deficits
Despite the fact that I have zero words so far of my psych paper, I already have a title:
Please Don't Burn after Reading: Pyromania in the Adolescent Population.
Ha ha. aren't I clever.
Right now I am drinking an ice cold cup of jet fuel. Last night, I filled a bowl with water, microwaved it, dumped in some instant coffee, allowed to cool, and then poured it all into an empty milk container, and popped it into the fridge.
See, I remember this working much better last year. Here is what happened last night:
Figure 1: Yeah, that's a bowl of coffee spilled all over the floor. I see no problem with this situation.
aka maybe I do have some cognitive deficits
Despite the fact that I have zero words so far of my psych paper, I already have a title:
Please Don't Burn after Reading: Pyromania in the Adolescent Population.
Ha ha. aren't I clever.
Right now I am drinking an ice cold cup of jet fuel. Last night, I filled a bowl with water, microwaved it, dumped in some instant coffee, allowed to cool, and then poured it all into an empty milk container, and popped it into the fridge.
See, I remember this working much better last year. Here is what happened last night:
Figure 1: Yeah, that's a bowl of coffee spilled all over the floor. I see no problem with this situation.
As I got down on my hands and knees and tried to sop up roughly 8 oz of coffee, I reminded myself that hey, it's okay, it's not like I have one of those Pyrex measuring cups with the spouts...
shit.
You guessed it. We do have one. It's Alana's, and something tells me she wouldn't have minded if I had borrowed it.
Similar to solving the issue of "How do you get from the airport without any money?" my reasoning, once again, made very little sense and caused the biggest mess.
Oh well, I'd do anything for you, dear coffee.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Two weeks, and then what?
How do you properly say goodbye to an entire city?
If you know the answer to that, give me a heads up, because I am curious. I have exactly two weeks to say goodbye to Boston. Although I knew for months that moving back to New York this May would probably be indefinite, this week I got my acceptance to Hunter, and my dad lost his job. So it’s official; sorry Boston, despite your lovely brownstones and excellent restaurants, I can’t stay any longer.
Saying goodbye to individuals will be its own challenge. I assume it will be something like graduating high school, except I will be the only one scared and anxious about what the next few months hold for me, while everyone else will still be settled here. I think I wrote an article about saying goodbye to friends in my high school newspaper, but I honestly don’t really remember anymore. I’ll leave this topic alone now.
Back to saying goodbye to a physical place, though. At this point, I think saying goodbye to Boston will be harder than saying goodbye to individuals. The friends who I want to stay in contact with will be just a phone call away; the lifestyle I had here, on the other hand, will be a thing of the past.
Part of me wants to try and cram in whatever I missed in the last two years (albeit, it’s not much.) In two years I feel as though I’ve seen all that Boston has to offer. I could make a trip over to the aquarium, but I suppose that defeats the purpose of saying goodbye; I don’t have a sentimental attachment to places I have never seen before.
Earlier this evening, I sat alone on the top of the grassy divide between Storrow Drive and the BU beach. I faced the river during sunset and worked on a paper. I watched the runners along the Charles, and I realized that this was what goodbyes were about.
If you know the answer to that, give me a heads up, because I am curious. I have exactly two weeks to say goodbye to Boston. Although I knew for months that moving back to New York this May would probably be indefinite, this week I got my acceptance to Hunter, and my dad lost his job. So it’s official; sorry Boston, despite your lovely brownstones and excellent restaurants, I can’t stay any longer.
Saying goodbye to individuals will be its own challenge. I assume it will be something like graduating high school, except I will be the only one scared and anxious about what the next few months hold for me, while everyone else will still be settled here. I think I wrote an article about saying goodbye to friends in my high school newspaper, but I honestly don’t really remember anymore. I’ll leave this topic alone now.
Back to saying goodbye to a physical place, though. At this point, I think saying goodbye to Boston will be harder than saying goodbye to individuals. The friends who I want to stay in contact with will be just a phone call away; the lifestyle I had here, on the other hand, will be a thing of the past.
Part of me wants to try and cram in whatever I missed in the last two years (albeit, it’s not much.) In two years I feel as though I’ve seen all that Boston has to offer. I could make a trip over to the aquarium, but I suppose that defeats the purpose of saying goodbye; I don’t have a sentimental attachment to places I have never seen before.
Earlier this evening, I sat alone on the top of the grassy divide between Storrow Drive and the BU beach. I faced the river during sunset and worked on a paper. I watched the runners along the Charles, and I realized that this was what goodbyes were about.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Shame
So this morning I awoke at 6:20 to get in some last minute studying for an exam at 8. I studied for about a half hour in the vestibule before the caffeine craving became too much. I got dressed, and by 7:10 I headed to Starbucks for my morning fix. I was ready to get my Sargent muffin and a sugar-free soy vanilla latte (I know, it's a bitch drink. Even I need a break from the classy Maxwell House every once in a while.) I march into SMG, my head happy that it will be getting its caffeine, and the Starbucks is dark.
I see the employees roaming around, but then I took note of the sign on the door. Mon-Fri: 7:30AM.
WHAT?!?
After my initial panic, I was ashamed. I felt like I had been told I had enough by the bartender, or no more crack by my crack dealer (not really.)
I finally got my drink, and ala GSU style, it was the wrong order. I took it, though, grateful for anything caffeinated, when I quickly realized that whatever this drink was, it was a double-shot.
Hmm...no complaints there.
Figure 1: I took this picture last year while I was trying to figure out how to adjust my flash. I love you Maxwell House!
I see the employees roaming around, but then I took note of the sign on the door. Mon-Fri: 7:30AM.
WHAT?!?
After my initial panic, I was ashamed. I felt like I had been told I had enough by the bartender, or no more crack by my crack dealer (not really.)
I finally got my drink, and ala GSU style, it was the wrong order. I took it, though, grateful for anything caffeinated, when I quickly realized that whatever this drink was, it was a double-shot.
Hmm...no complaints there.
Figure 1: I took this picture last year while I was trying to figure out how to adjust my flash. I love you Maxwell House!
Monday, April 20, 2009
It's Marathon Monday!
...and I'm doing orgo hw.
I went to the marathon last year, and it was quite fun. We walked around, watched people cross the finish line, and laid around in the park. I'm so behind on work from the last few weeks that I'm just staying in and doing practice problems and working on papers.
I feel a bit melancholy as the year draws to a close. I've lived in Boston for almost two years, and I have loved it for the most part, but once I go home this May, that is probably it. And it's okay, too. As much as I have loved the independence, the food, and the late nights, all in all, Boston hasn't been great for me in the areas that matter a little bit more, which is my academic career. Sometimes I wonder if I had gone to another college what would have happened these past years; would I have had great grades and still been on the path to becoming a doctor? Would I have had great grades at the sacrifice of a social life? Would I have been miserable? Happier? In a relationship? I don't torture myself with this, but I can't help but think about these things from time to time.
The spring semester hasn't been great here. I've had some fun, and there have been some great moments, but I feel as though it is easier to leave now than it would have been this time last year when I felt like things were just getting going. I can appreciate my home life more for what it is; I could end up sacrificing some of my social life to go home, but at least I can rest assured that the people I surround myself with at home are genuine, loyal, and actually care about me. I've started to see my life up here for what it really is, and even though things are still okay, I feel like maybe I'm jumping ship just before things really turn sour.
So a bit of a pensive post for today, but everything is okay. I wanted to make a post about my experiences on Thursday night, but most of the stories are so inappropriate that I didn't want to post them, because they will lose some of their charm when I take out the offensive phrases. We can talk about them in person--I promise, the stories are kind of funny. To start, I was put in a man's gown. It was all down hill from there.
I went to the marathon last year, and it was quite fun. We walked around, watched people cross the finish line, and laid around in the park. I'm so behind on work from the last few weeks that I'm just staying in and doing practice problems and working on papers.
I feel a bit melancholy as the year draws to a close. I've lived in Boston for almost two years, and I have loved it for the most part, but once I go home this May, that is probably it. And it's okay, too. As much as I have loved the independence, the food, and the late nights, all in all, Boston hasn't been great for me in the areas that matter a little bit more, which is my academic career. Sometimes I wonder if I had gone to another college what would have happened these past years; would I have had great grades and still been on the path to becoming a doctor? Would I have had great grades at the sacrifice of a social life? Would I have been miserable? Happier? In a relationship? I don't torture myself with this, but I can't help but think about these things from time to time.
The spring semester hasn't been great here. I've had some fun, and there have been some great moments, but I feel as though it is easier to leave now than it would have been this time last year when I felt like things were just getting going. I can appreciate my home life more for what it is; I could end up sacrificing some of my social life to go home, but at least I can rest assured that the people I surround myself with at home are genuine, loyal, and actually care about me. I've started to see my life up here for what it really is, and even though things are still okay, I feel like maybe I'm jumping ship just before things really turn sour.
So a bit of a pensive post for today, but everything is okay. I wanted to make a post about my experiences on Thursday night, but most of the stories are so inappropriate that I didn't want to post them, because they will lose some of their charm when I take out the offensive phrases. We can talk about them in person--I promise, the stories are kind of funny. To start, I was put in a man's gown. It was all down hill from there.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I owe this to you
Because I am in love with each and every one of my readers, I owe this to you. These are photos of a project I did in kindergarten. This construction paper booklet has not been touched since 1994, when yours truly added the illustrations. Enjoy.
Figure 1: The cover
Figure 2: My mother had to speak to the teacher over this. The teacher her asked my mom if she saw why this was a problem; My mother's response: "No."
Figure 1: The cover
Figure 2: My mother had to speak to the teacher over this. The teacher her asked my mom if she saw why this was a problem; My mother's response: "No."
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