karma’s a bitch

my heart hurts for the first time in a very long time, and it’s a terrible terrible feeling. I haven’t done this in so many years, mainly because I literally thought I was incapable of it. but of course, in the typical fashion of my life, I go ahead and decide to feel for the one person who’s colder and more incapable than me. why wouldn’t I right???

I’ve always liked a challenge, I’ve never wanted the guys who wanted me. I’d cringe at the ones who loved too much, who thought the sun rose and set to my existence, to the guys who felt the way I feel right now when I’d just coldly tell them It was over.

it’s funny how the universe works, how the energy you emit and put out there in the world always finds a way to circle back in your direction. karma baby, it’s a bitch… just like me. we walk hand in hand, and this time she’s got her hands tightly clenched around my heart.

i knew there was a reason why I didn’t do this…. I just couldn’t remember. but after how I’ve felt today…. the question is, how could I forget?

*written on a plane somewhere between San Francisco and NYC around 430 in the morning… in a drug induced haze*

Just a Boy

Two weeks time

from Merry Christmas to Happy New Year,

we seemed cool, casual, and in the clear.

just getting started, speaking, seeking, exploring new spaces,

coming to know each other’s faces.

 

we barely skimmed the tip of time

everything so new, still so unknown.

Yet in the turn of a year, and the skip of a stone,

The you I knew, left without ever even saying goodbye,

and I was left with simply some guy.

 

2010 we were exciting and new,

and in 2011 I did not know you.

 

I don’t understand, nor will I attempt to try

The turn of events, and the things gone array

All handled poorly, covered in little white lies.

 

So now maybe you know why you, 22, and I, 25

Was a little unsettling, like a small pin in my thigh.

‘cuz you 22, just makes you a boy.

Not a man, not a plan, not even a toy.

 

2010 we were exciting and new,

and in 2011 I did not know you.

 

I’m not looking for love, I’m not looking for marriage

Simply looking for company and some late-night disparage.

Don’t need much of your time, have barely my own.

I’m working, I’m focused, I’m submerged in the zone.

I’m a woman of drive and a girl on a mission,

Not a chick who said or acted like you needed permission

For anything ever, I said do what you please!

Not demanded or dreamed that you’d drop to your knees.

 

And that goes for both sex and romance, Monsieur Disappear-ee

Mother never taught you it’s polite to return a favor?

To drift south of the border and bask in her flavor?

If you really wanted to wrap this little girl in,

you should’ve been up to the hairs on your chinny-chin-chin.

 

But instead you just acted like a scared little piggy,

So I huffed and I puffed and it blew the house down.

Because a boy simply can’t keep his shit in the ground.

 

So now maybe you know, why you, 22, and I, 25

Was a little unsettling, like a small pin in my thigh.

‘cuz you, 22, just makes you a boy.

Not a man, not a plan, not even a toy.

 

2010 we were exciting and new,

and in 2011 I did not know you.

 

Attracted, yes. Intrigued, sure.

Curious, turned on, left desiring for more.

I won’t say no, because that’d be a lie.

And I’m devastatingly honest, just ask the last guy.

But you, 22, and I, 25, live in different worlds, and lead different lives.

Gave it a shot, they say age is simply a number.

But with the turn of events, and your actions to boot,

You and your age are the perfect suit.

 

‘cuz you, 22, just makes you a boy.

Not a man, not a plan, not even a toy.

10 things i absolutely love, in no particular order*

1. christmas time

2. my adorable new dog, mush <3

3. apartment hunting (not)

4. getting my very own place!

5. florence + the machine

6. egg & cheese wake-up wraps from dunkin donuts

7. margaritas

8. “fuck you” – by cee lo

9. people

10. paying taxes (not) <3

WeeZy*

they shut  our cable off today. and 2 days ago the Con Ed man came to shut off our electricity. and if i don’t find a new job in the next 3 days i’m not going to be able to pay rent this month…and then we’ll be living like squatters.

WHAT THE FUCK GOES ON!?!

well i gave the Con Ed man the bare minimum deposit to stop the turn-off,  which was 85% of the $500 i had left, which was going towards rent this month; and which i had only deposited the day before. i owe $1,000 to NYU for the emergency room visit my “medicare” didn’t cover, which was 100% of the fucking bill. i owe $500 to my maxed out credit card, that i had just gotten down to $400, “in case of an emergency”, which turned out to be a really cute pair of wedges from Aldo.  i owe my roommate $147 toward the cable bill we clearly haven’t paid for in a while, and my portion of the bar tab we ran up at Tiki Bar on 4th of July. i owe my parents $900 for taxes that they laid out for me back in March and in the next two weeks I’ll work 140 hours to make $500.

so you tell me… WHAT THE FUCK GOES ON?

oh, and cigarettes just went up to $13 a pack. what the fuuuuck?

10 things i absolutely love, in no particular order*

1. summer

2. dancing

3. d’jais

4. belmar, nj

5. empanadas

6. the smell of gas

7. long drives with a good playlist, my one hitter, & a full pack of cigarettes

8. black or white by michael jackson

9. ciara’s new video (ride)

10. the beach <3

almost

i recently stumbled upon a song by marc cohen, called “true companion,” that i have loved for years, and also haven’t heard in years.  well maybe just one year, since it’s only existed on my old ipod up until a few weeks ago.  an old ipod i that i haven’t listened to since buying my new one, about one year ago.  an old ipod that has now found a new owner, in my mother, since i gave it to her as a mother’s day gift; jam-packed with jams — mommy jams.  ah, how i love home-made gifts.  nothing better.

but back to my point…

in my opinion, this is one of the most beautiful love songs i’ve ever heard.  it speaks to my heart, as many songs do, but not this closely, and not on the matters of love; which i find difficult to identify with these last few years.  but here, marc cohen has captured what i strive and hope for in a relationship — in a true companion.  as i’ve always been a believer in fate and destiny, in mates of the soul, and two beings eventually finding one another down the lines of time and the paths they’ve crossed.  i don’t mean this in the sense of being born into a life where someone has already been pre-determined to be the “one” for you, because i don’t believe in that at all.  destiny is not something you are born in to.  fate is not something that the heavens just decide over coffee and crumpets.  they are elements of life that come from time, from experiences had and decisions made, from actions taken and paths followed, from people loved and people lost.  it’s an accumulation of all the things you’ve seen and touched, did and were, do and are.  you create it, from start to finish, in everything you do.  and it makes up who you become — you make up who you become.  you learn yourself and and who you are.  you come to know what you wish for out of life, and who you wish for in life.  you come to realize your soul and what it’s made of, and all the things in a person that will compliment it, and in turn the type of person who just might turn out to be, your true companion.

and that’s what i hope and wish for in my future.  my far future, but nonetheless, all the same.

on an even deeper note, in my true companion, i hope to find a man who loves and feels for me the way that marc cohen loves and feels in this song.  i hope to find a man who, too, is able to identify with this song, the way that i have.  because this song speaks to my soul, and and in turn, so does he.

the fact that this song has actually got me thinking about love right now is something crazy in itself.  makes me almost want to feel it again.  almost.

i <3 music

maybe it’s because i’m on my period, but (lately) music brings me to tears.

and there’s only one conclusion i’ve drawn from this.  i need to do something in music.  need to.

songs i love that start with R <3

• ready to run – the dixie chicks
• rude boy – rihanna
• reelin in the years – steely dan
• respect – aretha franklin
• rising up – the roots
• run-around – blues traveler
• rock and roll – eric hutchinson
• rock your soul – elisa
• run this town – jay-z, rihanna, kanye

and i’m sure a million more but it’s 4am and i’m tired.

the real 20-something-year-old of new york

money does not = happiness, but money does = freedom.

and for me freedom = happiness.

so in recent one can come to understand why i have not been my happiest lately.  i have not been my saddest either.  not by a long shot.  stressed, absolutely.  incredibly actually. not since since college, last semester have i been this stressed. which in time is approximately about the time i started practically pulling out my eye lashes.  although, i’ve been doing it ever since soooo…

reason for my stress?  money. and in turn freedom. i’m still battling to find myself a good bartending job. and fuck is it a fight.  i’ve acquired two, even three kind of.  i’ve gone through one already,  have been making crap at the other, and am waiting on the third.  got screwed out of a fourth, but i’m working there tomorrow not, so whatever.  am still under investigation, or “pending review” rather; as the government puts it. blah, blah, blahhh.  so money, has been tight. very tight.  but, i will get through this.  as i always do.  i’ve got shit in the works! and opportunities in line that will, by the grace of god, pan out, and i can start getting back on my feet again. aka making that cash money money moneyyy.

ah’ the good ol’ days.

til then, i lack freedom.  because money = freedom and freedom = happiness.

therefore money does = happiness.

however, i just heard a quote, and astonishingly so…  ”relationships are all we have in this world. money! pfff… what’s money? yes, money gives you freedom.  but relationships are what make us happy” – jill, real housewives of new york.

yes, that’s right.  you heard it here first, or on bravo 2700 god-damn times. ladies and gentleman, never would i have imagined that i would ever quote anyone from that show.  nor any other show in it’s name, and like it.  but as i sit here writing this, that stupid mumbo-jumbo is playing in the background, catching my ear at all the perfect times. ok, the one perfect time ever but…

and that is why i am not at my saddest.  because relationships are all we have left in this world.  and luckily for me, i’ve got some of the best relationships with the best people in this world.

nypost.com

P.S.

i fucking love drake.

i can’t see clearly now, the steam is gone.

i was sitting in a hotel room, with total strangers… from LA. on an work assignment in production of a film that i have no clue what about, never asked. didnt care.  there was california weed to be smoked.  with total strangers, in the middle of the night – well the beginning of the morning really. as the clocked struck five, the bberry struck thrash unreal – by againtst me!. the words “…if she wants to dance and drink all night , then there’s no one who can stop her… you get messed up with the wrong guys, you get messed up on the wrong drugs, sometimes the party takes you places where you didn’t really plan on goinggg…” flooded from my phone, filled the box i call home -i was off.

so i sat in that hotel room, and passed that bowl round the circle – circumventing conversation round the room with total strangers.  and smash and smore G. they’ll be no real names here. only smore titles and nicknames.  oh and hoe names.

ie.

Smash-Hoe

J-Hoe

Day-Hoe (we’ve never actually called her that but i think we will definitely start)

and Tee-Hoe (me)

 

okay, beep beep. (“backup”) (ill do this alot)

here is where i realized why my forever-long-love for music has become so intense in recent months  - maybe years?  sitting round a room with total strangers, from LA, smoking their weed, listening to their music – can’t even remember what, but here i said out loud, for maybe the first time publicly (meaning outside of a conversation with Day-Hoe) (see, we’ve started already) or maybe just with real and utter meaning for the first time.  either way.   and i received a response i’d hadn’t heard yet or wasn’t expecting?  either way.  ”it’s all that weed you been smokin…” from the perfect stranger cross and to the right of me.  hmm…

 

 

 

 

this blog started in the 40 minute long steam-shower i just took and went totally different.  those words are lost.  but ill try again tomorrow anyway….

“You’re Welcome Ladies”

So I’ve decided, after the 24 gruesome hours I had yesterday, and the 12 hysterical hours I’ve had so far today, revisiting the not-so-distant memories of it, and entertaining friends with it, that I am going to write a book called “You’re Welcome Ladies.”

 

Why?  Because at approximately 4:30am yesterday (or really today?) I had a revelation that my ex has been coined as a sex God, by 1 confirmed little skank, and I’m sure many others, all because of ME!  Because of the hard work and BULLSHIT I put in and put up with for 3 years.  It’s a known fact that when 2 people are in a relationship, the sex becomes, how do I say this…. fucking mindblowing?  And many-a-time, the dude had little to no clue before this relationship, but has now been whipped into shape big time by the lady (me) and is now spreading his skills across hoes near and wide.  While I am over here sifting through tiny dicks, and clueless toungues that wouldn’t be able to find their way to the clit if it had a GPS system attached to it.  MY GOD! It’s just NOT FAIR.

 

When a guy is good in bed, and packing some decent heat… that girl is most likely in for a VERY good time.  But it doesn’t matter how good the girl is in bed, if the guy sucks, so will the sex.  SO my ex and every girl he touches has found themselves with a win-win-situation.  Whereas I… not so much.

 

Hence my book… “You’re Welcome Ladies.”  Because God only knows I’ve taught some guys a thing or two, and will teach many more.  And God only knows that eventually I’ll be done with them, and off they will go, spreading my hard earned pleasures to ladies near and far.  So, yea, you’re welcome ladies.

 

How prententious of me.  I know.

and that’s all i need.

is it possible to still love someone, i mean really love someone after a year and half of being apart.  now, not apart like distance, borders, waters, — just not together.  physically together, yes, always, more and more maybe even, with every passing day.  but together?  mentally ,emotionally, plainly.  

 

but that’s not it.  thats not why i still love this person.  i love this person more, tragically more, when i am apart from him.  i conjure up these ideas, of who he is… who he was, and i fall in love all over again.  i yearn.  i cry almost always at these moments.  and while they haven’t happened often, or near at all, in recent passing months (because we havent been apart) its like a bad reaction to cat hair.  whenever im in a room too long with a cat, i have this grotesquely horrible reaction, allergies may it be, its completely involuntary and i have no control over something so compelling in its totality.  thats what these moments are like for me. i cry.  just cry. like when a someone get his/her noise pierced. and i dont hate them (these moments).  i often find the most clarity in these 60-second spurts.  i come to a realization in these moments.  about myself.  about him, or about the conjured image i have of him, locked in my heart — not even in my head.  i wish it was in my head.  that’d be so much easier to escape from.  to talk myself out of, as i often do for myself.  i have to say, i have a pretty neat ability to clarify my own thoughts.  sometimes i catch myself being my own pyschiatrist, and im good.  shit, better than half the bobble-heads i call my girlfriends.  bouncing around as if they are triple jointed at the chin, detached from the neck, just bouncing around.  how i love them dearly.  i truly truly do.

 

beep beep.  where the fuck am i?  or was i?

 

ahh, yes – the enormous amounts of money i save myself, on my ability to self-help myself.  is that like a double self reference, so it negates itself, leaving us with nothing? or no one?

 

beep beep. dammnit.

 

doesnt matter though because all that money i save, i spend on shoes.

 

im done here.  this is about the most deep thought i can take on this issue.  

at the end of the day all this thinking is for nothing.  because it doesnt matter if i could find a way to talk myself into it, into giving in to that heart that barely beats, yet beats for one thing. well 2 things.

 

cant forget music.

 

even if i could, i would never let myself. 

 

and im so thankful for that strength i have.  at least i have one. and thats all i need.

a true-life confession of a SMORE…

I wrote this months ago, actually almost one year ago.

Felt it needed to be in here…

 

 

Seven months, three lives, one whole new wardrobe, three separate apartments, nine thousand dollars down, ten thousand more responsibilities, two less roommates, and one less boyfriend later; I am standing here… in New York Fucking-City.

 

Hell Yea.

 

So let me break it down for ya.

 

Have you ever been hurled from a car – while on exstacy – that was coming around the side of a cliff, in the pouring rain, and Free Bird was playing the background?  That’s what these last seven months have felt like.

 

An array of undetermined bruises, a now raspy voice, and countless good-hair-days, doesn’t even get it started.  Neither do the nights that went forgotten before they even ended, or the pictures/evidence documenting every waking moment.  SMORE activity like mad.  Cigarette butts and nicotine patches, roach clips and broken slides, open bars and closing them.  Big ones, little ones, hairy ones, “SKIN-ny” ones—think about it, long and hard – no pun intended?  Bitch fights and screaming matches like you, nor I, have ever been witness to.  A job—fuck that, a career!  Early mornings that somehow turned into early mornings, and then eventually – if I was lucky – not-so-late nights.  Weekend-long hangovers, followed by week-long ones.  Even a whole month living at home with the parents.  Yea.  It’s been that crazy. 

 

And still, it’s only getting started. 

 

In the last seven months I have gone from being a wild and careless college student, to a fresh-out-of-college graduate with one week to go before the real world, to a “working woman.” That’s right, someone (at the DMV no less) actually called me that!  My mouth dropped.  I almost couldn’t believe it… because it was true. 

 

In the last seven months I moved to a new apartment in Hoboken, I started (and may I say, kicked-ass in) my 9-5 “career” with the largest commercial real estate investment corporation in all of New York City.  I broke up with my boyfriend of 3 years (practically on a whim, and not to mention over the phone) and have ever-so-strongly stuck to my guns ever since.  I pretty much gave up on all of my hopes and dreams as a writer…or did I?  I have actual consequences now… like to worry about and stuff.  People rely on me… for like actually important things.  I have an assistant!  Someone assists me in assisting someone else.  That person is an “Assistant Assitant” – that’s what it says on his business card.  My business card is hanging on my fridge right now as we speak.   Right next to the picture of a 6-year-old boy, flexing, that says “Everyone’s got a little bad-ass in them.”  In the last seven months I think I’ve had a little mix of everything. 

 

Shit, in the last seven months I had my best guy-friend (in the whole-wide-world) in me.  Yea.  It’s been that crazy.

 

     

My college roommate (and best friend) and I moved to Hoboken together, with two previous college roommates.  We stopped speaking, to the two, shortly after, started despising one-another, and we moved out (somewhat) shortly after that.  It was a whole butt-load of fun! 

 

Forty-plus $2.5k/month-New York City apartments later, me and my college roommate (we’ll call her  “Smash”) moved in here, to our tiny-ass, too-expensive-to-actually-afford, 4^th-floor-walk-up bachelorette pad.  We now sit, hot and high, in the heart of Gramercy, on East 26^th Street…in Manhattan. 

 

Fuck Yea.

 

We don’t have T.V., nor the internet yet (that’s coming on Friday – but the T.V.’s not… ever).  We don’t have a cousion for the futon that we call our couch, which sits in the room that we call our living room/kitchen.  We each have a bedroom though.  Movin’ on up I tell ya, moving on up. 

 

I’m currently in the market of looking for a second job.  I’m like a single mother… without the kids and a stellar sex life.  No child support or alimony though.  I could really use a ride on that pony these days, rather than the barely-make-me-moany ponies I’ve been stumbling across lately.  I received a 10% raise at work.  People say I should be happy with that – “Three or four percent is the norm.”  I say 10% of shit is still shit—no matter how you look at it. 

 

I’ve cut more people out of my life than in all 22 of my years.  Some were forced upon me, while others were by choice.  And others were by choice after they were practically forced upon me.  I don’t have time for this shit.  It’s me-time now people.  Welcome. 

 

You should know…we have three rules here.

 

1. Be big or go home.
2. Be fucking cool.
3. Step it up or step it out.

 

I don’t think these are very difficult requests. 

 

Seeing my friends from home again, on a regular basis, is fucking sweet.  Seeing my friends from college every weekend is even better.  Everyone says you lose ties, cut ropes, break bonds.  I’m finding ties everywhere, patching ropes like crazy, and sealing bonds like a Wall Street Suit on day three of no sleep and a numb face.  Don’t fuck with it.

 

I was on the brink of an extremely serious, long-term relationship; being asked questions like “You’re not moving in together?  How come??”  Hmm… let me think here.  Probably for the same reasons I kept my social life all this time—and my friends.  Oh yea, and I think as an independent human being too– like on my own and shit.  I think that’s it.  I’m not sure though. 

 

That and it was shit-or-get-off-the-pot time, and all he did was shit… so I got off. 

 

Hell Yeaaa.

 

I’m stronger now then I was before.  As a personality.  As a person.  As me.  People love me.  I love me!  The people that don’t love me– I don’t love them either.  Sick.  The people that love me too much, and don’t listen, don’t get it—even when it’s served to them a on a silver platter and banged up over their head repeatedly—that’s just too bad for them.  Call me when you’re ready for the “I told you so” dance.

 

The smile that comes across my face every morning as I’m walking to work, listening to “One Hand in my Pocket” by Alanis Morisette (she is the God of all lyrics and dead-on truths)—it’s unbelievable.  Like, seriously.  I mean I’m freakin’ walking to work!  At 8:30am.  It’s huge.  Sometimes people look at me funny.  More often than not.  Yesterday it was for not wearing anything on my legs in 19-degree weather, but usually it’s for the tiny bop that I do as I walk, or that big-ass smile I’m wearing, right underneath my big-ass sunglasses– and it’s over-cast and raining.

 

It’s been like hurling from a moving a car on exstacy, at the edge of a cliff, in the pouring rain, while Free Bird is playing in the background. 

 

And I’m okay with that.

 

This is where I have wanted to be my entire life.  Right here in this very moment, where I stand physically—where I stand emotionally.  Half of this is a means of testing myself.  Seeing if I can.  If I can conquer the business world—when there is nothing I want less for myself, as a future, and I have no educational background in it, what-so-ever.  So far so good.  Seeing if I can be that confidant, strong-willed, sexually-liberated female I try to distill in my girlfriends.  So far so good.  Seeing if some people are really getting the message I am trying to get across—taking it in and learning from it; growing from it as a human being.  I know… who am I to tell people how to be and grow?  You’re right, I’m not in any position to do so—but I am in the position to haul-ass if who you are is not what I want.  I make that decision, for damn sure.  Anyway… so far not so good, but not so bad either.  Take all the time you need my friend.  It’s on my side now.

 

In the next seven months I’m going to take all of this and run with it.  Apply it where it needs to be applied, and rock this world to the core.  Busting ass and hustling it too, because this is where I have wanted to be my entire life.  Throat-deep in madness, living a life to the abso-fucking-lutely fullest, with the people that I would never want to do this without, in the city that I have worked and dreamed all my life for.  How I got here only makes it that much better, that much sweeter – in every way.  I’m like a Wall Street Suit on day three of no sleep and a numb face, being thrown from a car on exstacy, coming around a cliff, in the pouring rain, while Free Bird is playing in the background.  Don’t fuck with it.

 

This has been a true-life confession of a SMORE.

     

cause the world gets in your way…

i got fired today.

and i am completely numb.

 

numb in the sense where i can’t feel enough to physically move, or enough to do much else than with my fingertips.  i think. i feel.  i have one million thoughts.  and about 6 or 7 fleeting emotions ripping through my body in waves.  anger seems to be the least of these emotions.  disappointment in myself is definitely there.  disappointment in others, also there. sadness. fear. actually terror. hurt.  weariness. mentally drained. LOST.  

but there’s this one feeling that i cant get rid of.  a feeling that has outweighed all the others, sitting front and center, right in the middle of my chest.  relief. pure and utter relief. and it is a sickening feeling to be this scared and this relieved all at the same time.  

one week ago today, to the day , i was walking up 3rd avenue on my way to the first day back at work in 2 weeks, and i actually thought to myself, wouldn’t it be nice if  i got to work today and they let me go, with 3 months severance (proposterous, i know) so i can just do what i WANT with my life – go after those dreams i spent my entire life dreaming about, and  20 months completely forgetting about. 

and there it is ladies and gentlemen.  sorry, here it is. and with the wave of shock and uncontrollable tears that slammed me into a brick wall, as my directors told me over a mushy fruit-salad breakfast, relief was front and center.  the entire time.

 

everything happens for a reason, life takes you places with purpose and plan.  sometimes the blueprints are more clear, and sometimes they are not.  right now i’ll tell myself that this is the universe speaking to me.  calling me out for a different path, a path i’ve wanted forever, but lost sight of in the hustle–or was just too chicken shit to really chase down in the first place.

almost one year ago i was telling myself that i took that job with eEmerge so it could bring me to where i was headed, an incredible, once in a lifetime opportunity with Lotame Solutions.  and it was true.  today i’m telling myself that i took that job with eEmerge, to get this job with Lotame, to be let go, set free, and finally man up enough to give those dreams the chance they deserve.  the chance I DESERVE.  so that once in a lifetime opportunity hasn’t come to an end today, and it hadn’t truly started then.  it was a stepping stone to now.  now is my once in a lifetime.  and while i am scared–petrified even–i am relieved. because there were a few times there, when i thought i had lost it forever, i was too far gone in a different world. the wrong world.

so with the same sickening sadness i had when mine and chris’ relationship ended 20 months ago, i am wrapped in overwhelming relief, once again.  fear accompanied by excitement for the future.  an endless road ahead, instead of a dismantling dead one.  a chance to start over, but with the experience, wisdom, and self that has been building every day along the way.  

 

today, i say thank you world… for getting in my way.  THANK YOU.

Just Write

Just write.

That’s what I have to do.  And keep on doing, if this is what I want to do with my life, if this is where I want to go.

And so I will…

Life is looking up.  In the last 24 hours I went from having no job, to potentially having 3.  All part-time/freelance, and hopefully off-the-books, but we’ll see.  We are moving in 4 days!  And just started packing this evening at like 11pm, and have only completed 3 boxes.  Awesome. 

 

Listening to Eric Hutchinson’s Rock and Roll right now.  McKneil recommended it to me.  Haha, she would. It is a good song though, the chorus works with me.  Cause if she wants to rock, she rocks. If she wants to roll, she rolls. She can roll with the punches, long as she feels like she’s in control.  If she want to stay, she stays.  If she wants to go, she goes. She doesn’t care how she gets there, long as she gets somewhere she knows.   It’s just right. 

 

I’ve reached out to a lot of people, and I am proud of myself thus far, for using my contacts, background, and experience thus far, to climb out of this mess, and back on my own 2 feet – and the 2 feet I WANT to stand on – this time.   Gotten a lot of great phones calls and emails from people I used to work with.  Makes me feel good.  Makes me feel that even though the paths I’ve chosen, thus far,  have led me to this obstacle in life, it was the right path, and worth it.  And life goes on.

 

I’m dating TJ. Have I mentioned this?  Probably not.  I have not “just wrote” recently.  But life has been pretty hectic.  But, yes – I am dating TJ.  And it’s been wonderful.  Truly and genuinely.  And all so natural. I mean, we have been best friends for, I don’t know, 7 years?  And falling in and out of love with each other for 15 months prior to this.  That’s TJ’s count – not mine.  I wasn’t counting.  Or at least that anyway. 

My head was in a very different place during that time – much different than it is now.   I have embraced what TJ and I have between us – whereas in the past I was pushing it away because I was not, by any means, ready to dive into something like this again, at the time, so soon after breaking off a 3 year relationship.  And I enjoyed, thoroughly, being single.  I was not necessarily ready to become un-single when I had my revelation about how I feel for TJ, but as many of my girl friends said to me “You’re never ready” – and this wasn’t worth the risk of losing it all, forever.   However, I must confess, here, that I do hold relationship in a very different light now, and with a different perspective.  Maybe because I was in a very long relationship, that to me, was very serious at the time – and it has taken all the energy out of me for that kind of a deepness and bond again – but I do love TJ, very much.  I love being with him, spending time with him, talking to him, just lying with him.  So it’s good, it’s nice.  Am I looking at this as an indefinite thing?  No.  Is that bad?  No.  I can’t do that again.  I have realized so much since leaving college.  About life, about myself – that nothing is ever written in stone, and you NEVER know where life will take you.  When I think of myself in 10 years, and where I will be… i have no idea. And i love that.  That is exactly what I do not want to know.  It’s just right. 

 

I experienced and was a part of history last week.  Ashley, Dana, and I went down to DC for the inauguration of Barack Obama and it was, truly, one of the most amazing experiences of my lifetime, thus far.  The aura of unity and peace that prevailed that afternoon, standing under the Washington Monument, with thousands upon thousands, upon millions of other people, was something one could only really understand if they were there.  Never had my ears witnessed a silence so powerful.  And the people we met while we were there, from all walks of life, and all races, cultures, and parts of the world. One paragraph here will not do it justice.  So I will just write, on another day.  

 

And life goes on… just right.

up in smoke

No one smokes anymore . Today I walked 8 blocks and 2 avenues sans lighter, with cigarette in hand, and I could not find a single person to ask for a light from.  I think people have started catching on.  

Dammnit.

ten2ten

Woke up at 10am.

Watched yesterday’s episode of the Sopranos.

(so that’s somewhere in season 3 or 4)

Ate a bowl of cottage of cheese for “breakfast.”

Went back to sleep until 1:30pm. 

Made soup for “lunch.”

Washed it down with last night’s left over redbull.

Topped it off with a smoke. 

Shopped online at TOPSHOP. 

Purchased my birthday dress.

(so that’s something like 5 months from now)

Did research for today’s red carpet premiere of Love the Beast.

Didn’t have to go. 

Took a shower. 

Set up my new iPod. 

(i can have 2000 songs now! instead of 412)

Made soup for “dinner.”

Paid rent. 

(ugggggghhhh)

Fucked around on facebook for, who the fuck knows. 

Wrote shit for LuxuryFashion.

Watched today’s episode of the Sopranos.

(James Gandolfini is starting to really turn me on – it’s scary)

Drank a can of diet a&w cream soda.

Listening to free bird on the balcony. 

Topped it off with a smoke. 

And now I’m here. 

At 10pm.

O M F G W T F

what the fuck is wrong with heidi montag? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HEIDI MONTAG? i want to punch her in the face every time i watch the god-damn hills. 

i hope to god mothers out there are not allowing their daughters to look up to this plastic bimbo.  at least britney spears did something with her life, at some point, a long, long time ago. but heidi?  WHAT is wrong with her?  did anyone give her any guidance whatsoever in choosing men? knowing how to identify an unhealthy relationship, should she be in one someday? valuing friendship? having common-fucking-sense?

 

and speaking of valuing friendship,  what the fuck is wrong with LC and her little circle of friends?  in my circle, we don’t shit where another of our girls already shat. not once, not ever. and it could have only happened once, and not ever again, and still never. lauren used to date brody, correct?? as in they had sexual relations many many times, in many different positions, and many different settings–oh, and there were feelings involved… most likely. i mean they liked each other enough, as people, that they didn’t just bump humps and bounce–and that’s somethin’.   so WHAT is audrina doing A) sleeping with brody after her good friend and old roomie dated him? B) and while he’s publicly in a relationship with a girl that runs in her same circle?  I mean COME ON audrina!

the hills just seems to be a constant reminder of all the things one should not do.  i guess there in lies the moral of this pathetic and obviously scripted show.  ”whatever you see here, do the opposite – a lesson in love and life for ladies everywhere” — this should be the show’s tag-line. 

i must admit though, the creators and producers of this show must know what the hell they’re doing… because i can’t seem to miss an episode! i just cant. WHY?-i can’t figure out for the life of me. maybe i’m just addicted to stupid people i want to rear-naked choke every time i watch them.  that sounds solid enough for mtv to bank on to me. 

and another thing… what the fuck is wrong with brody gener?  why is he not with me!?!

(the things i would do to him…)

beats fa’ dayz

just stopping in to say that my obsession with music is growing. i don’t know if it’s because there is just an immense amount of good music out as of recent, or because i spent 5 days in miami during the last week in march, or because i reach for the stars…a little to often, as of recent. whatever it is it doesn’t matter – because i love it.

kid cudi, i poke her face. fucking awesome. kayne west, his voice, his lyrics, his sound, grabs the song by the balls and flips it on its ass. common swoops it up, flips it again, and carries it to its last leg, where lady gaga (“fucking lady gaga” as i call her) grabs it with her apparent vocal skills and brings it fucking home.  now that’s using your medulla oblongata.

all the above – maino. i have no words. they took them from me.  my words are their words. well they wrote them, so their words are my words?  whatever it is it doesn’t matter – because i love it. words to live by. words to die by. words to get by. summer goal – to learn every word of that song by heart and spit the shit out of it every time it’s on!  i do that now, but its literally me just spitting shit. big difference.

drake, best i ever had.  he makes me beg for it til he gives it up and i say the same thing every single time. you the fucking best, best i ever had.

more drake! unstoppable remix by santogold. saw them live in miami, they did this song. or at least that’s the only song of theirs i remember experiencing. from the minute i heard it i knew there was something about it that i loved, but i didn’t know what it was. it had sick beat, and great potential but needed something more. and then i came home to find the remix featuring drake and lil wayne. yes santogold. that’s exactly what i was talking about. you read my mind. unstoppable.

be free, cube guys remix. pacha 430am (maybe?) let the sunshine, 5th dimension JP remix, anytime anywhere, i’m dancing. lady gaga. fucking lady gaga. everything she touches turns to sold. just dance, it’ll be okay. yes ma’am.

beats beats and more beats. “fa’ dayz”. there are so many more that i just bubble over in ecstasy for, but that could take fa dayz, so i leave you with this… “and some days i pray for silence, and some days i pray for us all. some days i just pray to the god of sex, and drums, and rock and roll”

let freedom fucking ring

the definition of freedom is….1: the quality or state of being free 2: the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action.  thank you???…  www.merriam-webster.com

on the 4th of july, every year, we celebrate such qualities and liberties about life. this 4th of july i really celebrated it.

quick run down.

started by leaving the city on a whim, with 40 minutes to the last bus home, bags to pack (and anyone who knows me, this is a gruesome task), a body to freshen up (if you get my drift), and all with a plan to somehow get back for friday, evening-ish?

before i knew it i was up by 8am thursday, having gone to sleep at 5am, and having never made it home. (now you got it)

where are my bags!?!?  gotta go!   off to six flags.

lauren’s waiting outside… up the block because she forgot which house was the boys. straight to bagels and redbull, and then to dana’s. about an hour later, at dana’s, changing in her bedroom with all four of us in the room and her mother standing in the kitchen. must have misplaced my bathing suit top about fifteen times.

finally on the road again.

we spent all day at great adventure (six flags) and it was fucking amazing. first of all i haven’t been there years. i used to be a roller coaster freak, and still am, but let me tell you – after the first ride, “El Torro”  i A) almost had a legitimate heart attack and B) never wanted to get on a roller coaster ever again. it was ridiculous, straight insane, freaking terrifying. come to think of it, i don’t know a word of spanish (other than cerveza and no) but if i had to guess, im pretty sure el torro means the terror in spanish.  lovely.

every ride later, we were back to dana’s.  i passed out in the back of her car with hair out to here, not-so-fresh kicks, and a fanny pack.  yea, that’s right – a fanny pack.  ask me who didn’t have to check their bag every hour and twenty minutes. yea, that’s right.

once at dana’s it was time to pack her bags. out the door back to lauren’s (in staten island, where i started, but not at lauren’s). grab homeskies! and cheryl! and we’re off. back to new jersey, but to the shore house.  shore by 10pm, after a car ride full of licorise and bob dylan.  out by midnight. off to djais! home by 230am. sweaty, aching feet, and tipsy (we’ll call it that).

beach by 1030am? kinda cloudy, with patches of sun? beer pong in the backyard by 4pm, after a stompede off the beach from one clap of thunder, followed by endless sunshine. figures. drunk by 5pm.  actually im lying to you – 430pm. me and dana are really not a good team.  partners through the seasons. but not in beer pong. train by 552pm, well train station. the actual train, that’s a different story. somewhere around 629pm if i recall correctly. thank you holiday schedule.

city by 845pm. apartment by 9pm. out again by 1130pm. recruited jackie along the way. place was bummmpinnn’. NOT. twenty seven people there, twenty three of which were my friends, nineteen of which were males.

shots!

tipsy again. apartment at 345am. sleeping by 5am. up by 10am. (now the actual 4th of july) bags to be packed. oh good, my makeup’s still on from last night.

ganservoort rooftop pool party by 1pm. mammosas and crabcakes for breakfast.  $1300 and eight bottles of champagne later, back at the apartment by 5pm. where are my bags??  how do i get to the F train from here? where the hell is church avenue?? way too drunk and hot for clothes.  change of plans – ride’s picking me up from here at 630pm. fucking phenominal.

jackie finds me passed out, naked, face down ass up, in ashley’s bed by 615pm. thank god! i would have totally missed my ride. where are my clothes?? gotta go!

and we’re off again, back to shore. i know, i impress myself too sometimes.

house full of people, everyone’s drunk. i’m hungover. where are the coronas?? oh good my makeup’s still on from this afternoon. where are my red shoes?

back out by 1030pm.

im sweating with aching feet again. dancing beneath the stars. did the whole club really just belt out the national anthem, arms extended up toward cheryl, who was just suspended in air above us, dressed like the statue of liberty on 4th of july crack? why is bonomo dancing in a bucket with a mexican??

home by 3am.  we’re not calling it tipsy anymore.

where’s my phone? the suns coming up. gotta go!

most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. fifth dimension said it right – let the sun shine.

7am? 18 people sleeping in six beds, five of which are twins. not the people, the beds. that wouldn’t even mathematically work if it were the other way around.

as much i love both dana and serg, sleeping in a space barely large enough for one, yet with 3 is not my idea of a good night’s z’s.   back to the beach dana. i’ll grab the sheets, you grab the pillows.

sun’s blazing through the covers by 10am.  people in bathing suits and beach chairs all around us, staring. back to the house dana. ill grab the pillows, you grab the sheets.

where’s my bathing suit? AND MY PHONE????

back to the beach by 11am. up and alone by 2pm. where’d everybody go?? back to the house.

WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PHONE?

i’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.

up and alone again, 10pm. i wonder if there’s any trains back to the city at this time on a sunday? i would call to find out if i had a phone!  back in bed, lauren’s bed now, with homer. and the bowl. and grandma’s boy playing on dana’s mac.

girls are back, stumbling, drunk – 1am. why am i still here?? i know, i’ve been asking myself the same thing.

up at 715am. train’s at 804. work at 1030am. i can do this. uh, not  i can’t. have you ever tried to run down a train from a block away, in flip flops, a tiny ass dress, and a suitcase on wheels? don’t. the guy practically waved to me from the window as i ran along side him, screaming with no voice (lost that somewhere around 3pm saturday) all the way until the train was clear out of the station. have you ever broke down into tears after trying to run down a train from a block away, in flip flops, a tiny ass dress, and a suitcase on wheels, while being a heavy smoker? don’t.  have you ever been told, by a ninety eight-year-old woman, that you look like you are going to have a heart attack? yea.

if i could pick one word to describe my entire life, and all of its facets, that word would be typical.

on the next train back to the city by 849am, at work by 115am.  woops. i would have called ya if someone could tell me where the hell is my phone???

home by 630pm, with my suitcase on wheels, flip flops, and a different dress. the other one was way too tiny to work in. couldn’t bend over. as a bartender i obviously need to be able to bend over. seriously. that crate of empty bottles isn’t going to pick itself up. at this point i don’t even feel like bending over for a hot guy with a 10-incher.  seriously.

what are you doing here mike? why do i have a suitcase on wheels? it’s been a hell of a 4th of july.

September in the City

I’m a total beach bum.  I LOVE the summer. But I love September.

Not just because I’m born in September, like millions of other’s whose parents were drunk and horny during the holidays, but because it’s the end of something fabulous with a pinch of something wonderful, just for a little while, as if a farewell present.

“Til next year.

Love Summer <3″

Of course there are other reasons.  Like boot season, and the end of frizzy hair weather with the start of perfect hair weather–finally!  The humidity dies down and the summer heats sizzles to a cool.  Shorts skirts and big boots.  Like I said, boot season.   Labor Day weekend.  Let’s me bid my farewells to summer, the right way.  The only way.  When I was younger it was the back to school clothes.  Even the supplies, I loved it all.  Once I got there and I thought to myself — “What was I thinking???” but life went on.  As it does now.  Summer’s coming to it’s end.  Today is the first of September.  I just landed from Puerto Rico two days ago and when I woke up, it was September.

Nineteen days until my birthday.  One year older, feeling one year younger. Not bad.  Sounding ten years older, with this hoarse voice of mine, but supposedly I’m getting myself hypnotized in nineteen days for my birthday.  My gift to myself–to quit smoking!

Keep your fingers crossed!

Actually, pray for me, really.

It’s back to the city time, which means I can start showcasing that city wardrobe I’ve been putting together in my head  and in front of the mirror during the privacy of my own time.  Beach wardrobes are fun, and sexy as all hell, especially with this tan of mine, but city wardrobes are fantastic! They excite me to prepare, they excite me to wear, and they excite me even more to take off – which is clearly the whole point of it all isn’t it???

Alright, I’ll give you half of it.  That’s definitely half of it.

September nights can be spent of the beach, around a fire with a joint and big cozy sweat shirt.  September nights can be spent sleeping with the windows wide open, IF I had any in my lovely room–but there once was a time, where I remember…

Today is the first of September, and while it upsets part of me and most of many, it makes me smile.

“Dear September,

Glad to see ya.

Love Tara <3″

some days it don’t come at all, and these are the days that never end

Last weekend I turned 24. I also gave up sex for 6 months.

Yes, that’s right.  You probably think I’m crazy, just as everyone else has, but I want to see if I can do it.  And it’s a way for me to clear my head a bit, to really focus on me, and the things I’d like to accomplish with my life.  I haven’t felt like I’ve been on very sturdy ground these days — probably for the last year or so since getting laid off — and with the future that I am working towards for myself, I shouldn’t expect to be on sturdy ground any time soon,  but at least I can control something, and that is my sex life — or the lack there of.

At first I was just planning on doing it to do it, but a friend of mine suggested I write about it.  And since I’ve been starving for some kind of inspiration lately, I figure why not let all of this excess sexual energy that I’m about to endure  be the fuel to the inspiration I’ve been looking for.

Now normally I would consider a life full of sex to be much more interesting, and in the past have based full written projects on those experiences, but there in lies the challenge.  Can a sex-less life be just as interesting?  If not more?  So far I’ve had a few chuckles, as have my friends, with my stories of attempting to avert sex and all of it’s indulgences.  I knew that the not having sex part would be difficult, for the obvious reasons, but I never thought that trying to avoid the sex would be as difficult as it has already proven to be.

Today is Day 9, and already I’ve come across 2 minor bumps in the road.  Some say it’s cheating, but they way I look at it, if someone wants to pleasure (or service me rather) with his mouth and ask for nothing in return, who am I to say no?  Believe me, I’ve tried!  But it seems as though some people just aren’t having it.  What’s a girl to do?

Going forward I will try my very best to not even involve myself in such activities, but when I was a virgin (all the way up until the ripe old age of 17 — I know I was such a “late bloomer”) something had to be done to get by, and  that something was just that.

I can’t help it if the boys love the way I taste.  As the running joke goes with my friends, “my pussy gives you wings.”

(I drink A LOT of Red Bull)

To be continued…

Day 22

just as i was about to cave, she came.  instead of me.

thank you?

Day 26/My God

Almost caved Saturday night because of a pair of Christian Louboutin boots, actually THE Christian Louboutin boots.  Black with the fringe.  My God. Literally.  But D10 (we’ll call him) “wasn’t in town” which in, stupid-boy-I’m-not-a-stupid-girl language really means he was Louboutinin’ it up with somebody else.  Trust me, especially so in this case, and by case I mean boy, he was.   So Day 23 (yea, whatever i know what Day 22′s entry said) came and went, and the blacks-with-a-fringe on my feet never left the ground–unfortunately.

Now Day 26 and the boss leaves quite the status on my facebook, while I wasn’t paying attention, because I was working, and within social-media-minutes both my phone and facebook were blowing up.  Of course Mr. Predictable (that will be his other name) called like clock work, and the daily, perpetual banter aka. pleeding started up, like clock work.  Back and forth, no, yes, no, yes, i really want to – but i won’t, that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard… i’m aware.

Oh, the status… “26 days is enough…I can’t take it—I give up….Batter up…I need some na na”

It’s really quite comical what an impact my sex life has on so many people.  I mean I got a text message from a random 718-number, I didn’t know, which turned out to be my junior prom date, having gotten wind of my “status” from my dear friend, we’ll call him Coco (woops, we actually do call him that).

Things are heating up at this point, and I mean in general too, just all around, this whole sha-bang, or not-sha-bang–it’s getting crazy. I’m weakening by the day (how sad) but yet, somehow I feel like I could really do it… if I tried–but I don’t want to.  That’s my problem.  You know what else my problem is?  D10.  Big problem, HUGE.  And I mean that quite seriously, and by seriously I mean literally.  My God. Literally.

I’m a Polytheist.

So as Day 26 rolls to a close I verbally cave.  Emphasis on the word verbally, and you’ll see why in a minute…

Fine, yes, yes, fine.  See you at 130am D10.

Oh wait, can’t?  Because this time, not in stupid-boy-i’m-not-a-stupid-girl language, Mr. Predictable is Loubotinin’ with someone else, yet again.

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  Two strikes your out — you don’t get three with me.  This ain’t no game of baseball.

But MY GOD, I am pent up!  I can barely take it.  Literally.  My body is being overcome with it, I can’t focus.  That was the whole point of this thing! To focus!  And I was doing so well!

But just the thought of it, knowing I was so close to it, verbally in agreement with it, mentally already there in it, and then trumped by Plan A, or in his words (more or less) “because he’s just too pussy-shit to bump plan A to plan B, for the “real plan A,” who landed in plan B–as in BULLSHIT.  Ya dig?

Good, because he’s going to need a hand.

Day 27, here we come.  Me and my pent up energy.  Watch out.

28 Days Later

Well,

it was a good run.

One other thing…

Life really has the funniest way of working.  When I got home last night, the episode of Seinfeld was on, when George gives up sex and becomes a “clear-headed genius” because of it.

Isn’t it ironic?

among the sun

this late morning/early afternoon as i sit here with ipod in ears i am perched amongst the sun, upon the tiny sliver of it on my balcony, in my tiny beach chair (one among many out here), and it’s the most perfect way to spend my morning.

i may have shared a joint among many a littler earlier too.

especially after last night.  after working 9 hours behind a bar, giving away the wrong credit card, getting stuck with half the $100 tab, and having my drunk-ass manager steal my phone, leave it somewhere, and lose it.

if ever there was a day i needed to awaken in the sun with music in my ears, today be the day.

ugh, jessica

i think i had my first orgasm today… from a chick no less. jessica.

by the allman brothers???  a music orgasm i meant.  i’m sorry, did i not convey that?

it was an inner/outer body experience, i swear to god.  i felt it inside of me, tingling almost.  i couldn’t stop smiling. i couldn’t stop moving.  i couldn’t stop laughing, moaning almost?!?

does this happen to people?

i have always loved this song.  it’s been in my top favorites for a while.  but now i almost want to tattoo it on my body, with a little heart next to it.  and when people ask me what it means i’ll tell them “it’s for the only girl who ever made me cum.”

ugh, jesssssica.

 

riddle me this…

i don’t want a boyfriend.  i haven’t for a while, and i don’t see myself wanting to in the near future.  this has been the first time (in my life honestly) that i’ve felt this way.  ever since i broke up with my last boyfriend, well over 2 years ago now, i’ve felt this way and over time my reasons have varied, or shall we say changed.

at first, it was because i wanted to be single.  i mean really full-throttle, balls-to-the-wall single. i had been in a relationship for years with the same person, who i loved with everything i had, more deeply than i had ever felt for anyone.  after it was over I realized what it meant to say you were deeply in love with someone.  my love for him literally ran deep, within me, and that kind of love is hard to overcome, or a longer process, if you will.  but anyway, i’m falling of course here. (beep beep)

now, over 2 years later, i remain single and wish to do so for different reasons.  i’ve had a blast since becoming single.  i mean, a BLAST.  it’s been a great experience and continues to be.  but now, today, i wish to remain single because i don’t feel i have the time to give to someone.  being in a relationship requires a lot of dedication, a lot of give and take.  making time for someone, taking someone else’s feelings and needs into consideration.  and i don’t just mean that in the sense of faithfulness — i mean it in the simplest aspects of living my every day life, in making decisions of spontaneity, in choosing what to do and what not to do.   i truly cannot do that at this time in my life.  i do not want to.

i work a lot.  days, nights, weekdays, and weekends.  so all the time pretty much.  and i chose to do so.  i currently hold 4 jobs.  i bartend about 4 nights a week at a bar on the upper west side.  i bartend at another bar in midtown east one day week, every thursday — i’m “thursday girl”.  i’m currently freelance writing for 2 publications — Zink Magazine and SceneBSeen.  these 2 jobs require me to attend nightly events, interview and research various topics, and write about 4 articles per week.  to be honest, i should be writing at least 5 articles per week, and that’s at the least, but with the schedule (i choose) to possess, that’s nearly impossible — but I will certainly keep on trying.

so as you can see, i barely have the time that i need as it is, to do all that is required of me, from a job standpoint.  my schedule is never the same day to day — and i love that.  it’s everything i’ve ever wanted from the start, well not everything but that’s what i’m working for.   i did the 9-5 monotonous bull crap for almost 2 years.  same shit, different day — everyday.  why do people do that?? how do they do it?  i’m veering again.

i also need my “me” time.  which breaks down into a number of different things and ways i like to spend it. amongst friends, amongst society, and this great city of ours, New York.  eye-balls deep in experiences, of all kinds.  living life because that what’s it’s for.  how can you make a life for yourself, without even knowing what it’s all about? without seeing, feeling, and touching all it could have to offer you?  and i always ask myself and others this next question too… how could you share your life with someone when you haven’t even created one yet? (and no, i do not mean physically, as in a tiny, winy, crying baby. — not at all what i mean) i mean what are you sharing?  or are you sharing anything at all?  are just you taking on someone else’s life instead?  making their life your own.  sadly, this seems to be the case in many instances, or at least i think so.  maybe people fuse lives?  ”okay, let’s take what we got so far and throw them together… and then we’ll call it ours.”   but herein lies the problem with this “theory”… when you take one half-assed life and merge it with another, all that stuff left undone, things left unsaid, hopes and dreams left unfilled, begin to eat away at your fused life’s bi-product–crashing into one another and exploding in your faces.

which is why i never want to let that happen to me.  i want to build my life, one experience at a time — one goal, one fight, one day, at a time.   so when i’ve gotten to the top of the building blocks that have made my life what it is, and what i wanted it to be,i can look all the way down to the bottom and see that i am standing upon no regrets — nothing to later crash and implode in my face.  then and only then will i be truly ready to give someone my full time and attention.  everything up to it is just a means of making.  making and building to get where i’m going, in the fullest and most fulfilling way possible.

but riddle me this…

can a girl have all that?  the time, the selfishness, the experiences, the great sex and its fleetingly interesting counterparts?  the understanding, the patience, the respect?  the laughs, the memories, the moments?  the success?

i’m sure trying.

blowing in the (autumn) wind

somehow it’s already mid-november, thanksgiving almost.  that literally blows me away…

to love what you do and to do what you love

i love my job

and it’s the first time, in a while, that i can say this.  and what’s crazier is that this job i’m referring to is my job at the bar, uptown. not either of my 2 writing jobs (the thing i’ve always wanted to do most) but my job to pay the bills so i can eventually get that job i want to do most.

it’s a collection of many reasons.  reasons why i sit in the cab ride home almost every night with a smile on my face.  the people.  the atmosphere.  the money .  the connections i make while i’m there, shift to shift and more so.  the conversation.  i meet and talk with so many people, each having something to say, whether it be interesting or not — each and all bringing something to the table.  something to my life, in some way.  the feeling like i’m learning and progressing in something.  because i am, and it’s nice.  i’ve always needed to feel useful in some way, and challenged.  and while it might not be in something that will assist in bettering my career aka. something of a suitable nature in my parents eyes, it just feels good to be doing so.  and in something that will help to build my career – big difference, all the difference really.

moral of the story – it just feels nice to enjoy what you do.  and i think that everyone should try it.

the end <3

10 things i absolutely love, in no particular order*

1. music

2. fresh mozzarella  (pronounced – muttz-a’rell)

3. hank moody

4. my life

5. red bull

6. seinfeld

7. a great pen

8. cigarettes (sadly)

9. pomegranates

10.  the red hot chili peppers

(more to come, in a series of sorts…)

bah-humbug

yesterday it was 67 degrees out and beautiful.  today it was 55 degrees out and beautiful.  tomorrow it’s going to snow.

ga-ga <3

my friend and his friend made this… their version of GaGa’s bad romance…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUyFTCtG0zg&feature=player_embedded

i love <3

john mayer says

just got home from work, 2:29am on tuesday (technically wednesday) (which in my head and little world is really thursday, and it feels like it… saturday was my monday) and (sadly) john mayer says it best right now… it’s been a long night in new york city.

calling all sexy men

tonight i have one question…. where have all the sexy boys gone?

because they aren’t in new york.  and it’s serious shame.

but i am wanting something fierce for one right now. i’m so sick and tired of all these half-ass, do-it-for-me-eh?-men out there swinging around this concrete jungle of ours.  it’s starting to really concern me.  and i’m not even talking straight physiques’ and appearances, but an overall sex appeal.  from the way he walks and talks, to how he thinks and acts.  cute and sexy with some substance for crying out loud! that’s all i’m saying.

because i’m not having it otherwise.  i rather sit home with a pack of Duracells than deal with the crap, and insanity i’ve experienced in recent passings.  half you guys are cutting yourselves off before you even get a foot in the door… this usually happens as soon as you open your mouths.  and then there are those that appear perfectly normal on the outside, but once you open the doors, what you find inside has you hitting the hills.  the crazy texts, the quirky traits, the annoying habits, the inability to turn on so much as a light bulb.  dead-end conversations followed by too much tongue in some places and not enough in others.  the need to “lock it down,” the apparent fear of independent, strong-minded women. the drama! completely unnecessary — all of it.

all i’m really asking for is man who brings something to the table.  who can play the game and have me wanting more.  someone who’s got shit going on, so he’s committed elsewhere, but knows how to let loose and experience experience.  a guy who, the minute i see, makes me want to tear off his clothes and into his flesh.  for the way he walks and talks, thinks and acts, moves and grooves.  now that’s what i mean when i say sexy men.  if anyone’s seen some, tell them i’ve been looking for them.

baby got back

funniest/best/favorite baby ever… pure comedy.

10 things i absolutely love, in no particular order*

1. drake

2. skiing

3. my new tattoo

4. dave chappelle

5. the stanky leg baby

6. my cleaning lady

7. sushi

8. dogs

9. hip hop

10. new york <3

“i have a dream”

i am not a racist, by any means.  i’m fine with all races and all people.  i like someone because i like someone, because he/she seems to be a good individual to standards i hold true and believe in.  doesn’t matter what color you are, the shape of your eyes, the size of your penis (well…).

i am, however, a “stereotypist”, completely and fully.  and this is simply because there is something to be said about stereotypes and what they stand for. stereotypes are born from reoccurring habits and tendencies taken on by a people and passed down through cultural influence and time, and those that continue and chose to feed into it and them.  therefore, being a completely inverted, man-made phenomenon.

whereas racism was born from generations of narrow-minded, uneducated, devoutly religious, culturally sheltered and secluded individuals with a fear of the unknown and ideas without evidence.  for that i cannot possibly stand by racism and those that participate in it.  it’s ridiculous to judge someone on their race alone and made of baby shit if you ask me.

but stereotypes…

if people want to keep playing them out to a tee then i’ll keep judging them for it.  and that goes for ALL races, cultures, orientations–everything and everyone.

because stereotypes are born from free will.

so will you please free yourselves from them?!?!

absolute insanity

3:41am (tuesday night/wednesday morning–however you want to look at it)

home from work.  physically exhausted, yet wide fucking awake.  just worked one of, if not, the craziest shift of my life.  one of me, 400 of them.  non-stop drinks, non-stop movement, non-stop this, that, and the other running through my head.  money, orders, people, names.  colors of bracelets, times, limits.  absolute insanity.  WELL worth it.  but absolute insanity.

and i done good

cuz i always do

but what a night to be 3-days-in on  being smoke-free! yes, that’s right.  i quit smoking?  and i phrase that as a question simply because i almost can’t believe it myself.  i can’t believe it because i think i mean it, and for the first time ever.  and i’ve said this SOoOoOoOOoooOOOO many times before. ask anybody.  absolute insanity.

but after playing my first soccer game (of any form) in 6 years, and the beginning feeling of literal death, i went straight to my bag at half-time and threw my full pack of cigarettes (18 left!) right into the trash.  i think compounded with the physical pain of slowly dying, and the realization (for the 1st time) that those things  have literally ruined me, and in something i loved for 15 straight years of my life… well, it was just a disgusting feeling.  a disgusting feeling i wish i would have experienced much earlier.

i’m glad to be home though.

and i’m glad to be off tomorrow.   all day and all night.

in a world of the insane, i’ve found peace in something….

absolutely nothing <3

can’t a girl get some butt around here?

i wish i had a smoke right about now… not even a butt in the ashtray i could freebase or something.

day 3 and counting…

HELP.

make it or break it

i love my life.  and every time i think that i don’t i’ll just remember that so many people out there, people i know, and people i don’t, WISH they had a life even remotely like mine.  the late nights, the lack of sleep, the wasted days, the uncertainty, the thin ice i walk on daily… all worth it.  all what MAKES it.  love it

til then….

aint it something awful when best friends hit dead ends

coming through in messages that mean more than what they say

feeling worse and worse about it every single day

but people just cant say exactly what they’re thinkin

at any given time,  unless it’s overdue

and they truly think it true

words spurred from heat don’t just hold fire at ignition

pending where it’s coming from and who’s spitting the flame

words can burn long after and tarnish those from whom they came

in my heart you’re still the same

because that’s what love be

but in the eyes that hold the prize

your face is almost wit’out a name

unrecognizable, because i refuse to see

if it’s you than i would have to think

you believe it true

and for that i can’t and won’t pay it any mind

to what has just gone on

i can only hope in time…

we can both put it behind.

til then…

10 things i absolutely love, in no particular order*

1. sundays

2. making out (with a good kisser only – 100%)

3. diner breakfasts w/friends

4. laughing (sometimes my ass off, all day long)

5. accomplishing 7 days without a cigarette (and counting)

6. the sun

7. vacations

8. beach hair

9. peace (signs)

10. homer <3  (there ya go lala ;D)

every single day, shit gets in my way

sometimes my life is just super typical and annoying.  :?( —-> a one-handle-bar mustache-face, obviously.

i love new york

it’s a snowy tuesday afternoon in the city today.  a normal mid-february day, so it doesn’t surprise me.  but a week ago i was beach-side in a bikini, basking in the miami sun.  WHAT HAPPENED???

take me back to where the palm trees grow!

it’s funny though, because while i was in miami i was saying how i missed new york.  and ever since i got back to new york, i’ve been saying how i miss miami.  and while i was in both cities (and for as long as i can remember) i’ve been saying how in a perfect world new york would be surrounded by the miami coastline, instead of the east and hudson rivers, and it would be san diego weather all the time.

but there’s no such thing as perfect.

so i grit and bear the winter season as it blows through a city i love so much, i up and leave palm trees for–only to come home to nothing but blizzards.   only new york can do that to a person.  as it does to 8 million ever day.

plus it’s fashion week this week! one of my favorite NY times of the year.  although the one in september is better because IT’S NOT WINTER, or snowing, like it is today.

but i do have quite the sun-kissed glow going on and that’s fabulous.

thank you miami, you were a pleasure while you lasted and continue to do me well <3

Taxi!!!

sadly, because i’m half lazy and always running late, i spend a lot of time and money in new york city cabs.  and anyone who’s ever been in one of these little yellow taxis, or often surrounded by them, understands the weight of this statement.  it’s a very unique and many times god-awful experience.

but i’ve recently come up with an idea (during the middle of the high-speed cabby chase-down i was involved in last week) that might make the new york city cab experience a little better.

here’s my business model…

the consumer flags down the taxi in the street, as he or she normally would.  the cab driver pulls over, asks for the desired destination, and then gets out of the car, moving over to the passenger’s seat on the other side.  the consumer then proceeds to take the driver’s seat, and in turn the wheel.  this allows the consumer to now put his/her money to work in a way he/she sees fit.  driving at a speed he/she sees fit, choosing what route he/she believes to be the best, discerning the amount of aggressiveness her/she feels is appropriate; even down to choosing the music he/she would like to listen to.

what a world it would be!

half the frustration of the new york city cab experience is the driver and his (or her) inability to actually drive.  and since i’m always running late, my life often depends on and dangles by this constant inability.  one might not think so, but the stress of this daily occurrence can really start to build up on a person.  it’s simply  a health hazard!

so with my new and improved yellow taxi-cab system, one can drive themselves from point A to point B at his/her own pace and style, while the taxi-cab driver now becomes merely the taxi-cab “sitter” — quite literally.

of course some new precautions and requirements would be in order.  such as a system in which all consumers and customers would have to provide proof  a driver’s license, and insurance.  but that’s nothing a police scanner installation can’t fix.

hey, if we can swipe credit cards and watch TV, what’s another ridiculous gadget and idea for a chance at peace of mind and traffic in the streets of new york?

Pete Wentz’s not-so-“Clandestine” Disaster

this is a review i wrote for one of my freelance jobs that did not end up getting published due to it’s negativity.

i think it’s a good bad review – you tell me…

New York’s Fashion Week is one of the most monumental events in fashion, for designers, consumers, and fashionistas all over the world.  During this week we not only preview the trends and styles to come but we celebrate all those passed, all those eras in fashion that have come and gone yet still influence us today to create the fashion we love and live in now.  With that being said, I, as a lover of fashion, and a very loyal consumer, hold those participating in this week’s affairs to a certain standard, and level of design, if you will.  Not necessarily “expertise”, because I’m all for the novelty act, or the up-and-coming designer straight out of Parson’s or winner of the widely known Project Runway—but I do expect a certain level of craftsmanship.

Last night, on day 6 of this esteemed week, Pete Wentz, of Fall Out Boy, put on a fashion show for his clothing line, Clandestine Industries.  Sadly there was nothing fashionable about it.  The show didn’t even start “fashionably late,” it just started annoyingly late—a good hour after it was scheduled to begin.  When it did finally start an unrecognizable band took the stage, which was set for a live performance at the top of the runway.   They announced their name once or twice over the mic, or so I think, but the sound system was so loud, and the lead singer was speaking so unclearly that I couldn’t make out most of what he was saying, or singing.  Apparently neither could most others in the crowd, after having to ask five people at the end of the show before finding someone who actually knew the band’s name—the Bad Rabbits (you can say that again).

So after an hour wait and a hard-on-the-ears-performance, the models finally came out, and in clothing that appeared to be straight out of a Delia’s catalog.  It was a showcase of cheaper looking Hot Topic trends, and most of what comes from that chain is already made of chintzy patent leather and polyester, so one can only imagine.  While the collection possessed that rocker flare, signature to Pete Wentz’s look and M.O., it was one crappy T-shirt after another, followed by boring jeans, saggy leggings, mundane hoodies, and cut-off sleeves.  It was simply an insult to the industry and certainly did not deserve to be a part of this highly important week in fashion.

Even the goodie-bags stunk!  Literally!  They gave out barbeque-flavored “Pop Chips.”  The whole place smelled like them, and I’m sure a majority of the audience had kicking breath by the time they left the show.   So much for being “clandestine!”

Those celebrity figures spotted at the event were of course, Pete Wentz, who was wheeled out in a straightjacket and metal muzzle at the end of the show, his wife Ashley Simpson, and Caroline from the Real Housewives of New Jersey.  This crowd sounds about right for the affair, although I think even Caroline could do a little better for herself.

dance for the music that saves you when you’re not so sure you’ll survive

haven’t stopped in days but i will be back — with a lot of things to say.

right now…. i gotta go dance it all off for a little while.

not even the half of it

i’m awake listening to music right now. 4am on a… wednesday?  eating frozen grapes in my new living room.  well, same living room, just looks new, different, for the 3rd time.  3rd roommate change since february, hahahaha.  that’s literally all i can do is laugh.  hahahahahaha. what goes on half the time in my life?  i’m not even kidding.  i just started a new job, at a new bar, tonight – after almost a month of not working a night at all.  where before i was working 5 nights a week, 1 – 4 days a week, 2-4 doubles a week, all the time, and BANKING.   what happened?  now i haven’t made any income in 3 weeks, since being under investigation for my unemployment – ALL because i caved and went on the books in january at the poho, like promised.  dammnit!  only to quit there 2 months later, like a crazy person! — but for shit and reasons i still believe in and stand by today.  might i regret my decision slightly?  yes, but only for reasons like i miss the girls i was working with, and the people in general i was working with, from all staff, almost, to many of the regulars and customers.  and that is what it is, but still i did the right thing.  i miss the $ and the environment at times too, like as i steadily paced among a quiet, upper-scale establishment both tonight and friday night, but still i did the right thing.  this is almost the exact type of place i left the pour house for, because i wanted to be in a better, more upscale type of place.  more money, but i’m still feeling that out right now.  after all, it’s literally only been 2 shifts, only one of  which i actually worked, for $.  but i digress.

i’ve had to remind myself, several times, i want to be a writer, not a bartender, and a move to a calmer, more civilized establishment, with higher clientele, and better networking opportunities is the right move if i want to be a writer. it allows me to be able to be more focused.  instead of keeping me awake til 5:30am, only to get up at 9:00am to work at the magazine all day, and then straight into work at the bar again until 3:30am — repeat.  and let’s not even talk about the jameson shots i’ve come to consume on a weekly basis.  among other things…

i miss the comfort in stability and routine that i had come to find at the pour house.   and again, i’m still feeling it all out.

but due to my recent misfortune and debacle with the NYS department of labor, i don’t have the time or the resources to do anything but feel it out right now, unfortunately.  i did, until i decided to buy a beach house for the summer, plan a road trip to tennessee for a 3-day outdoor camp-out concert, split my 3bdr apartment with my 1 roommate, for a mere $2G’s that month, and then another $1500 almost the very next.  this goes back to the new living room, for the 3rd time, and the people who keep moving in and out of my house.

hahahahahaha.

what else?  oh yes, the apparent pneumonia i contracted over the last 3 weeks, that was first diagnosed as bronchitis, by the dip-shit walk-in clinic physcian i had to go see, and pay for because they didn’t except the medicaid i have.  similar the what he rest of he country has just been granted by law of the government.  oh goodie!  good luck everyone.  welcome to my world, aka my healthcare hell.  was hopped up on antibiotics, advil, claritan, and sudafed, as per instructed by said dip-shit , for 4 days, and migraines like i’ve never been witness to before.  i wanted to rip my own eyeballs out of my head. literally. only to end up in the emergency room, back in manhattan, 6 days later, with my mother, who’s come in from  staten island.   1 nurse, 2 doctors, 3 hours, and 4 more scripts later, i start my road to recovery, from now said pneumonia.  steroids and albuterol pumps have  saved my life.  oh, and the doctors at NYU who told me to take those things.  and my mother, who told me i had to go to the hospital.

i’m feeling much better.  seriously.  i feel like i have a whole new outtake on life now too. to be healthy again!  i never want to be unhealthy again.  which probably means i should change 75% of the things that i do. and this comes back to my recent, boring move, and risky move might i add, considering my pending financials figures.  i just got my tax return deposited into my account today though, i think?  but i have to give them $900 of it back – fuckers.  the government has really pissed me off this week.

where was i?  and that comes back to the very beginning of this post. what goes on half the time in my life, and where the fuck was i?

good night.  yankee game t-minus 5 hours.

(and that wasn’t even the half of it.  trust me)