Saturday, June 28, 2008

Stockholm Syndrome

The creepiest thing about being at home is that it is so comfortable, effortless and easy that it almost lulls you into saying, "It's nice here..." I imagine this is what it feels like to become institutionalized, like in a mental ward, or possibly on death row. So angst-free when I'm not fighting with the guards, no pesky planning of the day ahead since it's all pre-regimented for me, lots of sleep. No uncertainties. Relatively little responsibility. Just be on your best behavior. Maybe freedom is over-rated.

I mean you wake up late, you don't go to work, people feed you or at least provide the means by which you can feed yourself, it's a lovely sunny, warm day (not stinking, humid and hot), you get to drive a car with the wind in your hair and the stereo turned up, your only "job" is to go through all your old crap (which for me mostly means my intensely OCD mother goes through everything and I sit and watch), and then you go to sleep in probably the most comfortable bed in christendom (I don't know why or how this mattress is so comfortable, I think we got it at costco, but it is so delicious that whenever I lay down my back goes, "ahhhhh!").

Ok so not really like prison. But with the same banal brainless sort of consistency that pleases simple beings like infants, the recently comatose, or, as in my case, the incredibly high strung.

If it wasn't for all the people I miss and all the fun I am missing I think I might be reluctant to go back early! Isn't that sick?! Because actually, I totally hate it here!! It just gets into you like some sort of zombie disease. Or the rage virus, only it's not rage it's just soul-sucking boredom.

I think what is making me feel so, you know, I-long-for-the-good-old-days-that-never
-really-existed, is all the uncertainty and scary broke-ness that I'm heading back to. Plus my lack of acting prospects on the horizon is a little depressing. I am doing a reading on monday though, so I really shouldn't complain.

And I have to get a job that I hate. I hate having a job that I hate! But all the jobs I don't hate, don't pay! And I need a job that pays. Like a lot. So I guess I'll be entering data for $15 an hour or something. Luckily I have enough pleasant distractions in my life to subdue the suicidal tendencies I'm sure that would drive any person to - like my 4th of july plans. Are you sitting down?

I'm meeting The Family! And by The Family, I don't mean mine of course. That would not be a cause for excitement, only self-mutilation. I mean the boyfriend's! I know, big step. I have fantasies of baking a gourmet home-made meyer lemon summer fruit tart to impress my hosts - so my mere presence won't be a let down - but I have a feeling it will be more like buying a gourmet home-made meyer lemon fruit tart to impress my hosts. But hey, that means I frequent bakeries - and that means I don't count carbs - and that means I'm not an entirely nervous wreck. And that is pretty impressive, for a New Yorker.

I will post soon with details about Meg's Visit and The Most Beautiful Wedding Ever but that delicious bed is a-calling!

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

June Bug

I think I am ill in the brain. Or possibly poisoned from the paint fumes.

My mother decided tonight was the perfect evening to go about painting the upstairs bathroom, so I've been in a tiny cubicle of a room priming, re-priming, and painting for the last 6 hours. And sweating, and getting paint on every exposed surface on my body, including UP my nose.
Yeah, I don't know either.
My brain is addled by the fumes and my entire body aches. Painting is just full of awkward positions - and not in the good entertaining way. In the ouch I've never felt that muscle before way. Which means tomorrow, I will be sore in places I've never experienced conscious sensation in before. Should be bracing!

Good thing too, because I've got to wake up at 7:30am to help my mother find the sprinkler heads in our lawn so when the thatcher comes tomorrow, he won't uproot the whole system.

This is why being at home is like being sucked into a black hole of very foreboding suburban banality. I feel like at any minute I will start finding dead bodies under floorboards, or be recruited into a cult by my oppressively friendly neighbors.
Actually, no. None of these things will happen. Because nothing new or interesting EVER HAPPENS HERE.

Well unless you count the haircut I got today. From the ex-boyfriend, italics intended, whose presence always sends me into a cataclysmic spiral of both joy and doubt, second guessing every decision I've ever made since I was 15 years old.
But to be fair, I would hardly call that new :) and therefore I'm sure no one would find it interesting.
I mean except me. I of course am endlessly fascinated by myself. I could hardly call myself a suburban white middle-class college graduate in my early 20's without believing my life to be the most complicated conflicted confusing thing on the planet. I would shock you with the intimate details I am privy to. It's a virtual circus of emotional pathology. Lions, Tigers, and Bears (you decide what those correlate to, I'm too exhausted to be researched).

I've been in a daze since seeing the ex, whom I was very happy to see but was not expecting to be so thrown from the whole encounter. It's not like we're on the path for reconciliation or anything, there couldn't be more reasons why that is NOT going to happen, but every time I see him I'm reminded of what it felt like to love him and that always throws me for a loop.

I know I should be really proud of myself for the progress I've made. I'm in a new relationship with a patient and understanding man who brings warmth, affection and stability into my life AND in turn not putting him up on some insane pedestal and setting up unreal expectations for either of us. Seriously, I wasn't really sure I was capable of that. I mean it hasn't even been 3 months so, I really shouldn't say this yet since I'll undoubtedly fuck it up, but this could possibly be the most healthy relationship I've ever been in.

Regardless of this, the memories of that consuming, forever fluctuating, breathless, euphoric, addictive, often torturous love that I felt before are so seductive. I feel like a new patient on Lithium, longing after mania. It's just foolishness. I really thought that I would never be capable of feeling secure and fulfilled in a relationship and it turns out that I am and that has made me so indescribably content.

But oh sometimes, I miss being foolish. Being smart sucks all of the romance out of everything, the fantasy, the drama, the poetry, the sensuality, what I had always thought of as beautiful.

If we are going to raise our children on fairytales then we should stick with the originals - I would have had much more realistic and informed expectations about falling in love if the Little Mermaid had ended up alone and offed herself at the end of the movie. I would have been traumatized possibly, but I ended up that way eventually in any case, so it hardly saved me any pain in the end.

Anyway, like I said. Paint fumes.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Steam & The City

So on Friday, hell opened up and the city of new york was flooded with hot humid air. All breeze departed for the weekend, possibly to the Hamptons, and we all suffered. Thank Jesus that I have an air conditioner, albeit the noisiest air conditioner in existence, to save me from drowning in a pool of my own sweat.

I mean it was 100 degrees and raining. That is just fucking disgusting. Not to mention how dirty that water is, and probably full of acid and pollutants. I should really have been showering more, but all I wanted to do was lay in bed in my air conditioned room.

I did however, see the Sex & The City Movie which I went into with low expectations. I'm not a super fan, I mean I've seen all of the series, mostly on DVD, but I didn't dress up for the movie or anything. Oh and there were PLENTY who did, let me tell you. It was blistering hot and sweaty and yet swarms of suburbanite teenagers and overly-orange soccor moms from Jersey out on 'Girls Night' flooded the Times Square AMC in their A-line halter dresses and high heels, hair perfectly coiffed, make-up caked and painted on in broad strokes. It was a sight to behold. Like some strange, tribal female right of passage or fertility ritual. Plus Gays.

Anyway, I had heard tell that the movie was like one long female-audience-inclined fart joke. I was ready to be underwhelmed.
And you know what? I had a grand old time. I laughed my ass off, I made side comments to Ian, I cried (that scene on the bridge - oh my god), I gasped and stared in awe at the breath-taking designer couture (bridal! eeeeeee!!). I wondered at how Jennifer Hudson can be such a powerhouse of soul when she sings and yet can't act her way out of a paper bag.

All in all I left that movie utterly satiated. Was it over the top? Oh god yes. But that's the beauty of the show. It's like crack, pop-culture crack for women who spent their early lives dreaming of prince charming and now have been dating for several years and wonder what fucking rabbit hole they fell down. With designer clothes and shoes. And gays. Did I mention the gays?

And girlfriends. Every woman dreams of having a close-knit group of die-hard girlfriends who would spoon-feed you yogurt in bed if the man you loved devastated you. No judgement or pressure, just total love, support and acceptance. Who would let you double-fist the margaritas if you felt like it. Tell the man who broke your heart that they curse the day he was born and let their water break all over his imported dress shoes. That'll show him, amniotic fluid will never come out of that Italian leather.

Anyway, a toast to my girlfriends who I love so very much! One of whom is getting married (bridal! eee!!!) the weekend after next and one of whom is flying 3000 miles to complete the trio at the wedding. I love you girls, in that true sister love sort of way where you can completely be yourself and be a better person at the same time.


Sunday, June 08, 2008

Currently: (a.k.a. I Keep Terrible Hours)

Listening to: ADELE's cover of Make You Feel My Love
Longing for: A little spooning...
Happy About: My lovely friends and a pleasant afternoon
Unhappy About: Ugh my career
Afraid of: Running out of money
Should Be: Oh, sleeping of course.
Shouldn't be: Staying up till 3am watching taxicab confessions/iron chef america
Crushing on: AOH :)
Hearing: Car doors slamming on the street, people talking, air conditioners...
Seeing: A large pile of unsorted papers that glare up at me menacingly. I'm sure there's a bill somewhere in there that I haven't paid. Real life is scary.
Smelling: My room, which is inordinately messy right now. Smells like pine (from my new shelves) and remnants of perfume and laundry. And almonds from my lotion.
Tasting: A nice cool glass of ice-water...mmmm...
Touching: My supple computer keys which make the loveliest sound
Crying Over: The Sex & The City movie this afternoon...don't look at me like that, I wasn't the only one! Vince did it too!
Rooting For: Any approaching cold fronts
Laughing About: My ridiculous responses to this exercise, as if it wasn't clear enough already that I lead a stagnant meaningless existence
Wishing For: An exciting acting prospect. Or to win the lottery. Or like six lotteries at once.

Alright, well, I'm going to go curl up in bed with a book and stop whining about my life because actually, I have so much to be grateful for. I'm not completely broke (yet), I have at least a survival job lined up for when I come back, I live close to all of my favorite people except one, who will be returning to new york city tomorrow. I'm hoping I can sneak my way into his bed tomorrow night, we shall see. I'm trying to maximize whats left of this week before I leave on thursday.

I'm coming back to Seattle for a couple of weeks on the 12th. I can't wait for the wedding but am otherwise dreading it completely. My mother was just here for a month ruining some of the most precious moments of my life. Why must this continue? Can't I get like a 2 month reprieve? Jesus.

And good night!

Friday, June 06, 2008

F*cking Bloody Transit Court = Day from HELL

Well I just wasted an entire day thanks to the New York City Transit Authority and the lovely men in blue of the NYPD.

Thanks guys! Not only did I spend my entire morning and most of my afternoon waiting to contest this absolutely ludicrous ticket you gave me (its a long story, I won't get into it, but it was a TOTAL misunderstanding) but in the end you didn't give a shit about my testimony, and I still have to pay the ticket in full! Great! You know, you might have just told me it would be useless so I didn't waste the time and energy schlepping out to brooklyn, where the office had been moved to some mysterious address I had to find with the help of numerous disgruntled shopkeepers. I took the day off work and I still have to pay this goddam $70?!

Well I mean I would have taken the day off work, if I had a job.


Good news is, the temp agency did finally call me, but now doesn't even want to talk to me until I get back after my trip (understandably). At least I'll have a job when I get back.

Oh and speaking of jobs, I have my first ever paying gig doing some background work on The Guiding Light this tuesday. I know, a little anti-climactic, and could result in the future in hefty union dues, but guess what? I need the money!

Especially now that I have to pay these motherf*ucking ticket.

As for my acting career, this manager who I was really excited about meeting with keeps putting me off. And I'm now sure I didn't get the part in that fringe show (and I bet I know who did).


I need a drink. Luckily the alumni reunion in tonight, and although it seems a little silly for me to attend since I only became an alumnus like two weeks ago, there is an open bar soooooooooo yeah I'll be there.

Thursday, June 05, 2008


I want a career.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008


Last night it started to rain and the drops were plunking off my air conditioner (yessss thank god) and I laid awake in bed until 4am for absolutely no reason.
It didn't bother me too much actually, apart from the initial frustration. I am an occasional insomniac, a throwback to old times I suppose, and I didn't have anything to do early this morning so I just sat and waited it out.

While I obsessively checked the clock every three minutes, it got me thinking about how things change over time. Three months, three years, three decades (hypothetically speaking of course, since I have yet to live for three decades, knock on wood). I have friends getting married, earning their phd's, starting lucrative careers, HAVING BABIES. I sit with them at breakfast, chat on the phone, laugh about everyday things and then watch them step up to these huge adult milestones, and I realize how brave they are and how much they've grown up in front of me.

I look back to the person I was when I was 16, that's seven years ago now, and I still feel like I look at that girl in the mirror every day. I'm still chronically melodramatic, still stubborn and unbending, still careless and scattered, still leaping before I think everything through. I feel like I'll just look up one day and have wrinkles around my eyes without feeling any different. Life moves so quickly!

Which just throws into striking contrast my absolutely useless existence these days. I wake up, I eat breakfast watching the food channel, I clean, I go out running errands for a few hours or go to the gym, wander around the city a little (we've had beautiful weather after all, best to take advantage before it gets hotter than hades and I start hating it), come home, make dinner, clean up, check my to-do list (since there's inevitably one or two important things I forgot to do), maybe have a drink with a friend/friends or head over to Alex's, and then sleep. Repeat and repeat. It's such a silly existence and I am so bored. I hate feeling like I'm wasting these days. I should be seizing the day, you know, carpe diem and stuff.

Well anyway, I guess my subconscious decided to kick me into gear because I woke up at 8:30 this morning and cannot fall back asleep. And I was even planning on getting up at 10 to get things done! But now I've only have 4.5 hours of sleep and I'm already exhausted. What do I do at this point? Should I try and get some more sleep NOW? I don't want to fall asleep doing my laundry.

You see? YOU SEE? My life is absurd and pointless. These are the dilemmas I'm dealing with - when to nap. I mean jesus, with all this time you'd think AT LEAST I would be getting caught up on sleep!

I am a useless individual.

Also, check out the cover of Make You Feel My Love by the bluesy brit Adele. It makes even me want to commit to my relationship which, you know, is saying a lot.