Happy people: an observation.

I wonder if they're as happy as they look.
I wonder if I ever look that happy.
I wonder if I ever am that happy.
I remember feeling the way they seem. So then is it just possible, but just not current?

I know I'm not supposed to compare myself to other people. I know how hard it is not to though.

It makes me sad to think I don't feel that way. Worse, I want to. But I don't feel as though I can control it entirely. It's dependent on people in my life just as much as it is in the outlook I take. People have a huge influence on my happiness. You see, I have this empathy tendency. I can feed off of others' excitement, or fear, or sadness, or negativity. Maybe that's why I want to do what I want(ed) to do. (Side note: I want to work with kids moreso than adults these days.) Working with adults kind of seems like a disastrous idea, if the empathy thing holds any water.

One would assume the solution is to surround yourself with positive things/people -- something that has become a recurring theme at this point in my life. Since James, I've noticed this coming back around again & again. I want to, but somehow I tend to attract the tired, down people. I wonder if that's the workings of my subconscious.

Then again, I'm lucky to have some friends that are utter optimists. I may not always seek them out, but they're there and they usually find me and they lift me up. I love those guys.

Maybe I'm not as bad off as I think I am. I mean, I have to work at it, but I have been making an effort to shrug off the unfortunate and laugh off the coincidental and breathe the entire time. I don't know how to teach myself to take life less seriously, but I know it's got to be on the agenda.

Enough of this. I just made brownies, and I'm going to have tea & brownies.

Also, today, I got new boots. Now I have awesome brown and black boots. That made me happy. :)

Happy Halloween!

What a day & it's only 9am!

I leave the apartment, walk the 100 feet to the end of the block and turn the corner. As I approach the next street, a school bus turns off of it and two girls scream out of a back window "Happy Halloween!" Without a thought, I waved and screamed it back. I wasn't really expecting myself to respond, so I was a little taken aback when I heard the words & the cheeriness come out of my mouth.

I get to my car and head towards the GCP. After sitting at the light on Jewel at the GCP for what feels like minutes (it's a pretty quick light generally), I realize the light just isn't changing. So, for the first time ever, I honk with an effective purpose, and people moved. I made my right turn and grabbed up my cell phone. I dialed "311" and reported the light. Again, something I really wasn't expecting me to do, but before I could realize what I was doing, the words, "Hi, I'd just like to report a malfunctioning traffic light," were coming out of my mouth. Of course I had to be transferred to another department to tell the same story all over again, but ultimately, the report was made. Hooray good deed! (Kind of, at least.)

Immediately after hanging up the phone, I notice one of those traffic-alert signs that then read, "Delays Ahead Exit 23 to 24." No big deal, I thought. Just one exit. That's never too bad. However, we basically stopped near exit 24, and I noted how odd that was. So I began paying attention, and the next clue I noticed was there were no cars on the westbound side of the highway, leading me to conclude that they had actually closed the highway.

As it turns out, they did. Exit 24 westbound on the Grand Central Parkway this morning was closed. The accident? A car, a truck and a police car. It was an absolutely horrible thing to have happpened, but the coolest thing to witness. I tried to get a picture, which I will attempt to upload this weekend. Of course, I hope everyone was okay. But what an interesting morning!

Here's to having a good night following a good day -- because my theory on not being able to have both has needed to be disproven. So there.

Good things.

1. I got an A on a test I took on Monday in my class on Germany. I got a B on my last test, and this one counts for more. See, when life isn't so horrible, my grades don't completely suck.

2. Barack Obama made me cry tonight. I know this doesn't come across as a good thing, but with six days left 'till the election, and a ton of things to do for school, I will make an effort to get that man the vote. I believe him. I don't usually believe politicians, but I sincerely believe this man is fighting for something we do, in fact, need. Something to bring this country back on its feet and stop it from heading somewhere noone has seen since the 1930's. I know the odds for him suck despite the polls. I know I've never voted, and therefore have never had the right to complain. But this time is different. This time it doesn't just feel like fancy rhetoric. I believe in Barack Obama. Anyone, everyone, please vote for this man on Tuesday.

3. The Phillies just won the world series! This shouldn't technically make me happy, as I'm a Yankees fan, but I have a few friends from Philly and I know how excited they are (shout outs to 'Stine, Case, Josh & B!). I am incredilbly happy for the team and for their fans.

A side story: I was studying for my history test tomorrow and watching the game with little cartoon dudes on mlb.com. It was the top of the 9th, 2 out, runner on 2nd and 2 strikes to the pinch hitter the Rays put in. Tim turns to me at that moment and says, "did your internet just cut out?" WHAT?! It did. I didn't actually get to see the final pitch, even if it was in cartoon form, because our router chose that moment to crash. It came back up just in time to see the "Phillies Win!" captions. I laughed for minutes.

4. Chris is helping me make my costume tomorrow. We're going to go to Michael's and get some stuff to make me a wand and a crown. The fact that he offered to do this for me makes me feel loved. Not that I question if I am. Just that it's nice to feel.

5. Halloween is Friday! Sure, I don't have any candy, but maybe I'll grab a bag or two tomorrow--just in case. Maybe kids in Queens don't trick-or-treat, but I'd rather have extra to eat in the apartment than not have some for the kiddies if they do swing by. But then I get to dress up and go out, with Chris, and potentially sing me some karaoke.

6. I bought Chris a present. It takes place next Friday. I'm afraid that's all I can divulge at this time. More later.

7. Joana asked me if I wanted to go see the Radio City Spectacular Holiday Show next month. I've never been, and for 40 bucks, I'm soooooo there.

So now I've spent most of my night watching Barack, the Phillies and writing this. I'm going to go devote an hour or so to studying for tomorrow's exam, then try to get a decent night's sleep.

It's nice to have good things to say. I like the way this feels.

Happy Labour Day! (...)

...if you live in New Zealand, that is. Humorously, the calendar also calls today a "Bank Holiday (IRL)." I imagine Ireland is having a bank holiday (or maybe not; I've never paid attention to "IRL" on a calendar before and thus am not sure what it means exactly), but all I can think of is that it's a bank holiday "in real life." I need to get out more.

Oooh, perfect segue!

So that is just what I've been doing--or, at least, have begun to do. I think I realize now that my doing-of-things used to fuel my blog. It made me have something to say; it made me feel somewhat interesting, like there was something in my life worth writing down & remembering. It's been so stagnant lately because, well, my life has been as well. Here's the basics (pre-excitement):

- I live in Forest Hills, with Chris, since the end of August. This has not been an easy transition. I have not given up hope yet though, either. There's got to be some making-it-work time, or we didn't really try, right? I predict, and truly believe, we are now on a clear path to perfection (or as close as we can come to it).

- I drive to Stony Brook every day, for school and work. This largely fuels my desire not to want to do things other then getthehellhome at the end of the day, but that has made me quite lazy, and not a little cranky and needy. Time for a change!

- When I'm not driving or in school or work, I'm home, either doing homework, playing WoW (which is nowhere near as often as one might think -- I do a lot of homework), cleaning something in the apartment, or tapping my foot waiting for Chris to want to do something together. Bad Linda. (The foot-tapping and its effect on Chris also fuels my desire to go out & play.)

- Sometimes, on weekends, you can find me in Astoria, playing with my friends over there. But I'm too "early" for many of those excursions. They like to go out around 10/11-ish. I like to leave for the night somewhere near 12/1-ish. I used to be a 4am-er, but I was never a 10am-er. No way, no how.

And that brings us to now. Of course I've not had much to say -- I haven't done anything! But things are changing. I now have something to talk about...

Last Thursday I went to dinner with an old friend, Brian. We went to a cute little Italian place that his family frequents. Thursdays are apparently "wine night" there, so we split a bottle of pinot noir for half its cost. The food was yummy; I left my leftovers at his apartment, but mostly because I didn't pay much for it. We also watched Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, or whatever that horrible movie is titled. It was definitely an eyeroll-worthy flick. But I hadn't seen it, and it was in the collection I was able to choose from, so I picked it. It kept the mood light & silly anyway, despite the fact that it appeared to frustrate Brian some. I got home at a fairly decent hour of 11-11:30pm.

Friday Joana & I went to see Bess Rogers (a friend of mine from high school) perform at Canal Room in NYC. She was awesome, as usual, though "usual" for me has only been two shows now. ;) But I like going to see her; her songs are pretty amazing and she has real charisma on stage. We keep telling each other we'll "get together for a drink..." but it's now become a staple of our seeing each other at her shows. We laugh, say, "no really," and someone else comes over to discuss something she said/did on stage. I tend to slip past, and leave the establishment.

We also had some pretty good Mexican food at Lupe's after we left Canal Room. Maybe it was the Jack & Coke, the Captain & Coke, and the pineapple mojito, but I definitely deem the food tasty. I was highly impressed by their chicken in the tostada salad, which was like a flat taco, but delicious nonetheless.

I was going to join Jo in a dancing excursion the same evening, but I wanted to try to get to pumpkin picking semi-early Saturday morning, so we opted just to eat and part ways.

Saturday morning = fail. I woke up at 9:30, which was great, but after not sleeping very well, I fell immediately back to sleep, for a final wake time of 11:30 am. Chris deemed this a little too late (what with the rain clouds ominously floating overhead) to drive out to Long Island in seach of pumpkins, so I opted to go without him. But first we had breakfast at the diner, and what I thought was a pretty good talk, chock full o' things we needed to discuss. IMO, it went well. I left him at home shortly therafter and borrowed his car to make the trip out to Long Island.

Along the way I sought out some company in the pumpkin-hunt, and was met with a positive response from my friend Rob, though he was unavailable until after 3:30. So I did some Costco shopping (75$ in regular household stuff like TP & paper towels & sponges--OMG!) and hung out at my mom's house for a while. He finally came by around 4:30 and no sooner were we in the car and headed towards any farm we could find, when a dull mist began to fall from the sky.

Determined to outlast the rain, I found one place that was closing at 5:00. We showed up? 5:05. I thought maybe Schmitt Farms would still be open past 5 on a Sunday, and they were only a few minutes away, but alas--they were not. So we did the only thing we could think of to get pumpkins...we went to the supermarket.

King Kullen was down to about 8 pumpkins, all of which sucked, so in the essence of pumpkin "picking" we hit up another supermarket. Waldbaums came through.

It was still fairly early, and I was under pumpkin budget, so I bought Rob & me some Taco Bell and we parted ways after going back to my mother's to pick up his truck. The day, on the whole, was fun.

That evening, after making it home in the monsoon of October 2008 and managing to unload the car, I put lots of things away and then prepared Chris & my pumpkins for carving. We searched for faces to carve, decided what we were going to do, made marker-rough-drafts and got to work. The results: (picture to follow). We also picked out the pumpkin seeds and toasted them in the oven for wonderful deliciousness. I enjoyed every second of our carving-time together, and even if he couldn't be there to run around Long Island in search of last-minute pumpkins, I had an excellent time with Chris just making fun faces out of pumpkins and spending creative time together.

Sunday was full of work, so I won't bother getting into any real detail on that one.

But all-in-all, an excellent weekend.

My day: 9/11 & Becky

I can't help but wonder if Themis Chronopoulis, professor of the rise and decline of urban cities, decided to show the film on the construction of NYC intentionally today. With several shots of the lower Manhattan skyline, coupled with higher-than-the-rest-of-the-month estrogen, I found myself misty eyed more than once at from 9:50 to 11:10 this morning.

NPR was discussing if we talk too much or too little about the occurrence seven years ago today. I was on a ten minute ride to work from campus, or I would have found out peoples' opinions on the subject, but it made me wonder what my own opinion was. At first thought, "just enough" came to mind. But I'm not sure. And I still don't know. Who's to judge what's enough or what's too much? For me? I don't think I hear about 9/11 all that often. However, I don't know that if I did, I wouldn't think it was being harped upon.

On my ride back to school from work, I caught a bit on school segregation. Popular theory of [the caller] was that high schools and colleges had racially segregated cliques. I immediately called my own high school days to mind, in an attempt to recall what it was like at good ol' LHS. But I don't actually recall what life was like then; I spent a lot of time avoiding that place. So I thought about the campus I was on my way to, and I came to the conclusion that segregation isn't really an issue at SBU. Most people are pretty friendly with one another, regardless of ethnicity or nationality. I think, as the host of NPR commented, colleges have been working at creating environments that encourage mingling.

What I had to say about it (out loud, to the car stereo) was that we've had this problem since Brown vs. the Board of Education and the military had to be called to assist in desegregation. Today's parents aren't used to it and therefore don't encourage their children to have friends of all nationalities. And it won't be easy for them to either, unless they are made comfortable with the concept. Is it possible? Probably. But I don't think it can be accomplished in the next few years, or even decade.

In other news, Becky, a former waitress co-worker of mine, came into my office today. At first glance I thought maybe she had a speech problem I never noticed. Or maybe a child (it's entirely plausible from what I recall of her personality from back in the Bennigan's days) with a tongue thrust...who knows? Instead, in making my way around the office wall to give her an "OMG! I haven't seen you in forever!" hug, I noticed the pamphlets in her hand, and her male companion. Wishing she had noticed the "No Soliciting" sign (in hot pink) on the door, I asked what she was doing there. "Uh, we have spa packages, actually," she replied. Through an obviously forced smile I reminded her of the notice on the door and told her she couldn't be there. I noticed a self-righteous switch in her attitude. I asked a few questions about the biz and she felt the need to toss in how much "more money" she makes than the cranky people that throw her out of their offices. She also showed me all of the sign-ups they had accrued during the course of their beg-selling, and explained that it had nothing to do with begging and that they were quite educated, and then I think something about having her own business. Understanding her need to feel bigger, I marveled at her accomplishments and told her how great it was to see her. She did the usual: asked what I had been up to these days and such. She brought up that Kristy had gotten married. Realizing it as the words were flying out of my mouth, "I know. I was there," was probably the most pretentious thing I could have said. I was met with a high-pitched, "oh," and decided Becky hadn't changed, and I had. And even though it was this vain, superficial comparison, I felt a little bit better about me, and the person I had become.

Dear Dad

I know blaming you is not the answer, because my actions are my own fault, but I can't forgive you. If you weren't in my life, sure, I wouldn't have been born, but the way I grew up, sometimes I think that's better.

No one should have to go through this. No one. I spent 7th grade on suicide watch in middle school. Who does that? Why--please explain to me why--it's so easy to be so mean. Tell me how disregarding peoples' feelings can come without conscious awareness. I know you know the answer, because you do it to me every day.

I did it every day too, once. And I thought it was the biggest mistake of my life. Now I realize not being able to stop, now, is actually the biggest mistake of my life.

You couldn't & can't handle that part of yourself, dad, but I fight every day to try to handle that part of me. I just love when I can get it right--the feeling of comfort and happiness is just utterly amazing. You'd think that'd be enough for me to keep away from the mean, but somehow, it's just not. I can be a hurtful person, and I am very ashamed of that. Because not only does no one deserve to have to fight to remain good, moreso no one deserves to be treated bad. For someone to play the role of "mean guy," someone else has to play the role of "victim," and I'm sick to death of claiming victims.

Just because I've made progress in this field doesn't make it okay as a behavior. I hurt people, and that hurts me. Why do I even have the capability? And even if that's something everyone is born with, what makes it so much more difficult for me?

Every time I slam a door, every time I use any variation of spite, I think of you, dad. Because all joking aside, "I learned it by watching you." I don't know how to forgive you for that. I'd like to think learning how would "set me free," but I'm also not sure it's that easy.

But damnit, more than anything else in my life, I want to be nice. To the people I love.

fantasy dream.

Well, kind of.
It starts here, in Forest Hills. Kind of.
Several of us --mostly Chris's family though, I believe -- are in what feels like an inn. It's as if we're in some kind of cross between Ireland (where I've never been, so I may just be talking out of my ass here) and New York City. Chris says something in an upstairs bedroom that I don't particularly care for, so I head downstairs, into a main room. I settle off to the side, in what could be considered a kitchen in a small apartment, but doesn't feel like a kitchen in this instance. I sit on a regular plastic/metal chair and wait.

A few minutes pass, and Rachel comes over and stands behind me. She starts telling me stories about her hair, and how she had formerly cut it, or style it, or whathaveyou. I feel a brush being pulled through my hair and I realize she might have thought I was sitting there waiting for her to cut my hair. But the brush feels amazing, so I continue to listen to her talk, and wonder how I would ask her to cut it were that what she was planning on doing.

In her talk of hair length, she refers "like this," indicating she wants me to turn and face her, so I do. She takes my eyeliner pencil cap off (though where she got it from is beyond me), places my chin in her palm and begins to apply eyeliner to my right eyelid. At that point it seems as though she is quite confidently going to give me a "makeover" as though she is some kind of authority on the subject. I feel awkward, but somewhat proud. I glance over at Chris, who has also entered the central room. He appears unimpressed.

With that, a woman sitting on a couch adjacent to us frantically begins asking for help, as her makeup experiment has suddenly gone awry. Rachel rushes over to assist her, and for some reason, I leave the establishment.

Outside, I wait for Rachel, though I'm not sure why. I explain to some guy about the scene that had just taken place while we walk down what looks to be a relative of Yellowstone Boulevard. Rachel eventually catches up to us, and in that same moment I realize she was holding my eyeliner back at the inn and it was still likely inside. She cheerily states she'll go back and retrieve it, but I follow, only I am slower than she and she is already ahead of me.

I return to the "inn" shortly thereafter and she is nowhere to be found. A barmaid/innkeeper type woman is cleaning up in the exact location we had recently departed. She mentions I'm probably looking for the "TooLowToHearWhatSheIsSaying" but I explain, as I find both the pencil and the cover, that I am only there for my eyeliner, which yes, could have been purchased for pennies elsewhere.

Curious as to where Rachel had wandered off to, I head back outside. Upon my departure, a man with whom I am evidently acquainted "oh, hi!"s me. I return the salutation, but explain that that someone is waiting for me outside or I would stay and chat.

I immediately spot Rachel and hurry over. I convey that I had found what we had both gone to seek. She happily acknowledges our triumph and we begin walking down the street.

After a short journey we enter a shop as though we are on a mission. There are two old men sitting next to a table containing a type of pastry--perhaps rugala. We determinedly head for the set of stairs in the back of the establishment and exit to a series of alleys. After setting off down one of them, I turn behind me to find the source of some commotion we can both hear, but Rachel comments that they are high school kids and we should proceed forward. I reply that we'll just have to go through the ghetto then, bound down some stairs, and following, Rachel laughs. I duck out of the alley and land on a city street. Faintly, I recall a memory in which Chris and I had traveled this path before and found it to be the incorrect way. I verbalize this thought and Rachel agrees to try to find the right one. We turn back to the shop. As we re-enter, the two men attempt to engage us in friendly conversation, noting how quickly we have returned, but we politely decline. I state to Rachel that if I recall correctly, there is a different staircase that we need to take out of the shop, but that Chris knows for certain. I begin to search rooms, but realize Rachel is not with me. I call out to her, several times, and she replies that she is talking with the shopkeeper, but headed in my direction. She joins me in the room in which I am standing and leans against a wide door frame, while I sit on the floor, defeated.

What she says next immediately confuses me. I can't recall exactly what her words are, but it is clearly acting. A puzzled expression crosses my face. With that, Chris enters the room and begins speaking aloud to himself as though preparing for a game later, which is what I assume he is doing. It is also the first time I notice character/game pieces on a table in the center of the room. Understanding that Rachel wants to lure me into a role-playing game, I turn back to her and in an accent of some kind, exclaim in response to her question, "but we don't even know where we are!" Chris's attention turns to us, and I immediately ask him where the stairs that we are looking for are located. He answers without words by handing me a piece of construction paper with what looked like a message on it. Whether attuned to Chris's, creating my own, or a combination of the two, I am instantly filled with pride once again, mostly because Rachel has swayed me into a game I honestly believe I will enjoy playing. I glance at the paper, which has the words "Basement for rent" written on it, with a description of the space available underneath it. I smile knowingly and thank him, placing the paper on yet another table in the room. "The basement," I say to Rachel, and on a double-take, pick up the paper once again. "I think I'd better hold on to this as well," I explain, "wouldn't want someone to move in and block our access." Rob Smith-Hoffman, out of nowhere, leans over to Chris and whispers, "she's a smart one." Chris smiles and I make my way to the basement staircase. Rob follows.

There are three people on the stairs, though I don't know them. The first one is close to the top, and upon my arrival he "hits" me with a mock weapon. I "hit" back, and Rob notes the "damage" being done as well as comments on it. I lose comprehension at this point, but I don't give up. I apparently "kill" my attacker through a parry and a kick, though I've no idea how. The two other people are towards the bottom of the stairs and I stare at them, suddenly realizing I'm in combat, and this is not table-top. Slightly nervous I turn to my former attacker and ask what to do next. "How do you want to attack them?" he replies. I make the motion of jumping, arms up and over my head, superman style, at them. "Or can I not do something like 'jump'?" I inquire. He tells me that I can if I really want to and explains what happens if I kill both of them from the blow, or just one, or if I miss completely. I ask another question or two, about cost of attacking, cost for different styles and the like. I turn back to the battle, but two security officers are standing just below me on the stairs. I look over at Rob. "Are these guys real? Or are they your guys?" He laughs and tells me that they're actual security guards. I look back at them, half-laughing, not sure if I believe him. At this point I get the impression we are in a public place, blocking a staircase and shouldn't be there.

I wake up.

not bad (does not) = good

Things may have begun to get a little bit easier, slightly smoother, and more communicative.
That doesn't just make everything wonderful though. I can't tell if my brain is going through some sort of insecurity or if I'm just picking up on unconscious vibes. Probably the former, but I hate to poke and prod to determine which.

I'm waiting for school to start, but I feel like I'm always waiting for something...something to give me a new circumstance or situation. Why? I don't really know.

The odd part? I'm fairly content. I'm just paranoid.

prep work.

I have to go ask the neighbors if they care if I have a cat.

I have to go back to Lindenhurst and get her (if no one in the vicinity is allergic). And other things. The jugs of shampoo & conditioner, my printer, my stock of soap and trash bags, everything I might possibly need or want to have with me. Not that I can't go back, but it's inconvenient to. Though at that I have to chuckle. Theoretically, the inconvenience is getting up at 5am to get on a train at 6am to sit for an hour and forty minutes, to take classes forever away to do the same thing all over again to get back. But so long as the return > the investment, it's worth it, right?

I'd like my desk. I just don't know how to get it from my house to Queens.

I have to figure out how and when to go drop my car off in Stony Brook and take the train back. What does this week look like for me? If the cat is here, it doesn't matter where I stay, but the gas to get back & forth every day would be too much. So do I do it on Friday? If we go away for the weekend anywhere, then that's just wasting time we could be spending traveling to wherever. Do I do it Wednesday? If I do, then I have to pay for the train to/from SB on Friday. Do I drive out Tuesday morning (1st day of school) and start the process after Labor Day? I don't know. I'm not as good at planning as I thought I was. Not to mention I've been training myself to be amenable to upheavals in plans. But the whole first day of school thing seems like the best plan.

I need my battery chargers. And shoes; oh, so many shoes. And cat litter. And cat food, which I haven't even bought yet; she's just about out of what she has.

That little magnet pad, so I can write down that we need milk & eggs and feel like I've made headway on actually getting them.

My files? So I can continue to be neurotic about paperwork? Candles, 'cause I likes them? Socks. More socks. Advil.

I think I will have to dig through drawers, closets, cabinets, shelves...just to feel like I have me with me.

I don't think I'm leaving me behind, by any means. I do, however, feel like I'm just trying to incorporate myself into Chris's world (and by 'world,' I mean 'apartment,' which in essence is kind of exactly what I'm doing).

In any event, tomorrow will be a long day of just about official moving...again, provided it's okay with the neighbors that I bring Leslie back with me. I got my monthly LIRR ticket in the mail yesterday though, which makes this all the more real. :)

"I'm dating a model."

So, my darling ex-boyfriend, you are. Thank you for sharing. I honestly don't care about the 400 hundred people waiting for her wherever she is. I don't particularly care for gloating. Especially when said gloating is about my replacement. "Look, honey - all of the things you weren't! AND she likes me!"

I honestly don't know what I prefer: your utter misery (which was really annoying because it was solely due to your not having a girlfriend) or your super-wonderful-model girlfriend gloating. Have I ever sent you a text message about how wonderful my boyfriend is? No. And it's not because he's not wonderful (as everyone that knows him knows, he is), it's because it's obnoxious to shove it in anyone's face, especially my ex-boyfriend. I wouldn't do that because I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Maybe I'm just being a girl. But that was rude.

when the weight of the world feels exactly like...the weight of the world.

I don't even know how to say what's going on in my head and my heart. They are torn apart, not by the mass of the body in between, but by circumstance and resulting actions of circumstance.

What I have learned is that what I want is to be an individual. To be able to live a single existence, but in a relationship. I'm not sure if I have it all wrong and am trying to be too independent, or if I'm doing what might be right.

I know I'm not the queen of independence. I'm actually like the princess of independence, run away to try to avoid my parents at all costs. But I'm ready now. I'm ready to find the balance between that which is entirely overbearing, and that which is rational.

I want...to live peacefully. I don't remember moving in with Rob being very complicated, but it wasn't handled well either. We didn't really work out "kinks," I just said 'jump' and the bitch jumped. This...this is not like that. That is not me, nor who I want me to be, and unfortunately, that means there are, in fact, kinks. More than I had thought there would be.

I've not given up. The second I claim to give up, nothing will be able to restore faith. I don't think three weeks of an on again/off again living situation is enough to dismiss an entire relationship anyway. The first official month might even be rocky, but not if I can help it. I have made some resolves, some resolutions to bring a better Linda to this world, and ultimately, to my relationship.

I may never reach the ideal I have created for myself, but I am open to compromise and discussion and love, and that is what is most important in my opinion.

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a fan of fighting or drama or anger, or even rockiness. I want calm and collected and easy and fun. I also understand it doesn't always work that way. I just need to figure out how to make that the most prominent motif in my life.

I believe in me. I hope I'm not the only one.

does misery even like company?

Some days I wonder long and hard why in the world I want to be a therapist. I'm pretty sure, with my inability to make so many people feel any better, I would completely suck at it. Some people say "OMFG you are going to RULE as a shrink," but that's mostly because their minds (and issues) are less complicated than the people I fail with. Thinking back, I don't even know if I've helped anyone at all. Therapy is supposed to be about a patient talking, and a therapist directing thoughts. With most people all I do is opine. With others, I can say little to nothing, mostly because I can't handle the continued negative reaction.

I should take that for what it is: a self-help technique. If it makes me so uneasy to hear something like that, how do other people feel when I act similarly?

As for "treating," I understand that I'm not a shrink, nor am I actually close to being one as of late. But I used to be so good at helping people. At making them smile. At being a bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. Now all I can do is frown and say, "chin up?" and wait impatiently for something magic to happen. What's the only real possible reaction to that? "Yeah, thanks," and likely a response frown.

I suppose I do actually understand why I want to make people feel better: true happiness is pretty contagious. (But, mind you, that fake shit that is most commonly seen is not.) Does that mean the key to responding to people's problems is to just be an uber-optimist and cheerily smile in their face and say, "aw, you've nothing to worry about. It'll all work itself out; you'll see!" Because that just seems like a fake shortcut.

And I imagine that without being truly happy myself, I will do little good for anyone else. At present, happy people still kind of grate on my nerves, which is an indication that I'm not quite there. Yes, there are certainly times I couldn't be happier, so all is not lost, but to be able to find that place ... the place of peace and tranquility and patience ... now that would be an accomplishment of a decade.

Regardless, I should be able to put (most of) my own issues aside, and deal with things for others. Again, though: brick wall. I get met with a lot of sidewards smiles and "I'm going to go"s. Is it just a case of a lack of training? I suppose no matter if it is or isn't, I should at least view it as such, to keep my inspiration and hope alive.

I can't seem to figure out if I'm supposed to be empathetic, equally as whatevertheyare, optimistic, or try to help them see a brighter side. Does misery want company or help or just someone to listen? I believe that answer is entirely subjective. Personally? I like company. I like someone to force me to smile, or laugh, because how can I possibly be mad/sad/othernegativeemotion while laughing, or feeling loved? It's difficult. But who's to say that's what everyone else, or anyone else for that matter, wants? I know entirely too many people who want to deal with their shit by just "going away" and "being alone." Granted, all that usually gets its a pretty bow on top of some sadness or anger, but when solitude is what is sought, it's hard to argue for the adverse.

So ultimately, misery may or may not love company, and the phrase is a bunch of hogwash?






"Treat a man as he appears to be, and you make him worse. But treat a man as if he were what he potentially could be, and you make him what he should be." -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

if I only had a [creative, fantasy-driven] brain...

I feel like I would then fit in better with those that I surround myself with. I would be fun to talk to, sought out for ideas. What do I do? I go to school for psychology. Aside from actually having a somewhat intelligent brain, what have I to contribute to the people closest to me?

I honestly don't think I have anything of substance to say, and that I'm not very interesting. I might be entertaining sometimes, but that's all I see as far as what I have to offer. I'm animated. I'm easy to make fun of. Sometimes I feel like I'm the person everyone keeps around to make themselves feel better about how smart/knowledgeable they are.

I'm sure there's more to it. I'm sure I've something good going for me, but at present I can't see it and I'm not entirely sure why. I'd love to just post my insecurities to the workdaylist, but ... well, no one ever has a problem like that, because they're all so damn confident in themselves & their strengths. I don't know what my strengths are. I don't know what I'm good for. And I don't need to feel even more the baby for whining about it to a group of 30+ people.

Then again, that might be good for me. Maybe they'll say something nice. Or maybe something mean, but that I need to hear. Or maybe they won't say anything at all, which would be worse, but nothing worth getting a stash of ACME razors over. (I wouldn't really need a stash now, would I? One would seemingly be sufficient. Heh.)

I'd rather not seek comfort in other people's comments. What I'd like is to feel like I know something, and not need to wonder how I fit into the puzzle that are the people I call 'friends.' I need for these uber-insecure days to just stop. And step one is coming to terms with who I am, and what my own strengths are. I'm just not sure how to do that when I don't know.

nobody said it was easy.

The every 4 days blog continues...although today, I'm not much in the mood to be posting pictures. Maybe another time.

Thursday was nice. Jo came over for dinner. It's great having her so close by. I will be sad to see her leave, but we will both be so preoccupied with our respective schools, that I imagine weekends will be our only potential time to see one another anyway.

Friday was ... a Friday. Work, back to Queens, which I am now calling "home." I decided if I was going to have doubts about the entire arrangement it wouldn't be worth doing. So as of now I'm all in. Chris came home from a work BBQ and we watched a movie, drank some whiskey and had just a good, relaxing night in.

Saturday we went to our respective mothers' homes. I hung out with mom and the cat and BBQed for us. Went back home just to turn around and meet Vinny at the Beer Garden in Astoria. Turns out a friend of (my friend) Dan's was having a bachelor party there as well, so lots of people were around. It was actually a great place and a lot of fun. Unfortunately, though, my night didn't end well. One might say it ended disturbingly.

Half of Sunday was spent sleeping. During the waking hours, Chris & I went to Home Depot and carried a table & chairs a mile or two home. Then we set up in the living room and made a workstation. I think it came out pretty well. I tried to study for the test I had today in sleep class, but it was a lot of material and my focus was way off. I did the best I could with what I had.

I left this morning with the intention of returning Wednesday. I'm looking forward to not having to do this anymore. Not wondering where certain belongings are, not trying to figure out what time to get up because of what day it is or if it's raining, stuff like that. I'd like to have a fairly smooth lifestyle, not that that's ever really been too possible. But a good place to start might be standard commuting and a stable place to reside.

I spent most of the day okay; I spent some of the day upset. It was rather random, honestly. I didn't realize I would have strong, painful emotions just sitting inside of me, whirring around, itching for somewhere to go, but finding nothing. Void of an outlet, they only find solace in random tears, which really just annoys me. So I'm walking around, some sort of tear-jerking time bomb, trying to live a normal life. I hear it's a process, and I'm ready for the "healing" to begin...however that happens. How does one find a constructive emotional outlet, anyway?

when no place feels like home.

The highlight of my Monday was my new planner. I know this might sound lame to some, but it was actually quite thrilling for me. I like that start-over feeling, y'know? Where even though nothing in life has changed, there's almost a reason for a new beginning, like New Years Eve, which is the ultimate start-over.

The book also signifies a year gone by at Stony Brook. Though it may have felt long at the time, it certainly flew by in retrospect. (Then again, doesn't everything in life fly by in retrospect?)

In addition to the new girly pink & purple planner, I also picked up 5 one-subject notebooks, which will be the most I have been prepared for a new semester/year of school since....sixth grade. Maybe it'll stick. Or maybe I was just dragged to the University Bookstore by classmates on our break. I got a lot of gum samples out of the deal, though. AND I found out that the little tag you're supposed to cut off certain clothes before wearing them is still in a pair of shorts I own. I found this out entirely too late. Ultimately, I should have stolen the books, since everyone was prepared for me to beep (again) on the way out. Heh.

I spent Monday & Tuesday night in Lindenhurst. I realize now that I call both places home, as I had to change "I spent Monday & Tuesday night at home" to include what 'home' was in that sentence. My apprehension about spending less & less time there continues to grow. But I haven't spent a long enough period of time thinking about it, so I don't really know what I think about the entire ordeal. I may just wind up approaching it like I would most other things of a similar (apprehensive) nature: ignore it until it passes. Because, eventually, it will pass. I will proceed to go through the motions, and it will either go well or go badly. Pining over it certainly isn't going to help either situation, is it?

Tuesday was the most work-productive day I have had in a long while. I worked for a few hours at the Speech Center, then went home and did 2 hours or so of RA work, then I did another 2 hours or so of reading for class the next day. I neglected to do the extra credit. I meant to when I got home yesterday, but I forgot, and now it's too late. I'm really going to have to pick up the extra credit slack or study and write my ass off to get an A in this class. Sue likes me, and I know that, but I also know she's not going to give me an A for that reason. I honestly have to earn it, and my work and studying have been less than stellar. My work will reflect this if I don't get my act together.

Anyway, when it finally got down to bedtime Tuesday night, and I was photoless for the day, I decided to take a picture of my water bottle, because I have been and will continue to be unable to eat or drink anything other than water at least three hours prior to bedtime. It's part of the sleep class I'm in. We're doing our own mini-experiments regarding sleep habits and interventions. Only I know mine is going to fail miserably, and the only bad thing about that is that I have to explain why in my final paper. I'm fairly certain "because my hypothesis was whack" just isn't going to cut it. In any event, the water bottle never made it to print because something much more important occurred. I finally understood the "flower" feature of my camera. I've had that bad boy for a good four or five years now, and never have I grasped the concept of its function. Evidently the international symbol for 'macro,' the flower-feature (because its cooler to say than 'macro') allows my (and most all, I'd imagine) camera to focus on something directly in front of it. So I started playing around with it, and here's the best emphasized difference. First picture, mountain-feature (I'm sure it's a symbol for something, though I don't know what). Second picture, flower-feature.

The difference in background and contrast is utterly amazing to me. Maybe I'm just easily amused. But now I've been dying to take a picture of a flower, though I've yet to.

So I played around with that for a little while longer, before convincing myself it had been long enough since my last meal/drink/snack and headed to bed. I had only been away from Chris a day and a half, but by this point the missing had slowly started to creep back in. Packing stuff for the next day definitely helped tone down that emotion.

Wednesdays tend to be a tad on the treacherous side. A few hours at work, and then long, grueling hours at school. They're grueling mostly because all I want to do is get to Queens and avoid traffic, and staying until the end of the regularly scheduled class time would equate to the epitome of rush hour. So Wednesdays are the day I generally shake my leg under my seat in anticipation of leaving.

As I didn't do my extra credit dream paper, which, incidentally, would have taken me 20 minutes had I not forgotten about it, I decided to talk in class in an attempt to get the other potential extra credit point. I asked a question or two, and then, when class was slowing to a dream-relaying-by-every-person-in-the-room halt, I opted to cover the next section of notes and do a Freud summary. Thank you, Dr. Waters, for forcing me to spend half of an entire semester studying the nutbag that is Sigmund Freud.

When I finally got to Queens, I waited patiently (read: napped) for Chris to get home so we could go see The Dark Knight. I swear if I didn't have to pee through the entire last third of the movie, I would've loved it even more than I had already, which was a LOT. I am definitely going to see this flick in IMAX, and I'm kind of glad Joana wants to go with me. I understand Chris's reasons for not wanting to, and I don't blame him for it, but it's so unlikely I would go alone. Now we just have to follow through with the idea of going.

So after the long pee following the movie, Chris & I decided to improvise on dinner at home. (See what I mean about the 'home' thing??) After my whiny attitude proved little results, we settled on Spaghetti Os and Cheesyburger Chef Boyardee, mixed together. Don't worry, we classed it up with some merlot we acquired at a vineyard in Red Hook.

Upon consumption, we began the "hasn't Chef Boyardee always tasted like metal to you?" discussion, until it occurred to Chris that he owned a silicon spoon (from hiking/camping). After noticing a difference between utensils used, we decided the metallic taste comes from the metal spoon. So Chris used his silicon one. And I? I used whatever I could find...

Oh yeah, there were meatballs too.

We're broke, but were goddamn fun. :)

August ALREADY?!

Where oh where did the last...four days go? It appears as though that little problem I have of skipping the blogging when Chris and I are together needs to be remedied or this blog will quickly become extinct. In any event, he is here now and I am writing this next to him, so let this be step 1 in fixing the hardly-a-problem. See? Next to me. Playing Final Fantasy II.That game makes some seriously funny noises. Anyways, I'm still sitting in the same place on the couch as I have been basically since 10 this morning. I may have had a very sedentary day, but it was damn productive. I watch a movie, The Game, starring Michael Douglas & Sean Penn. I would describe it as...annoying, but good. Maybe a little overkilled as well. It's one of those "the game is to figure out the game" things, but through the whole thing you never know if anyone is lying or if anything is real or fake and what is coincidence or what is intentional and it's all just very...stressing. But it ended fairly well. I'm apparently a little sensitive, 'cause I actually let a tear escape.

Then again I got teary-eyed when I finished Barack Obama's book today as well. Seriously, if that man is evil, then he's fucking good at it. I'm totally voting for him. Throughout the entire book (The Audacity of Hope), all I could think was how he's just...dreaming. How he has this beliefs and ideals and they're so far removed from society and the government today, that he's going to find himself one very disappointed politician. Then I got to the Epilogue. Where he basically said, "yeah. I'm a dreamer. But what's the point in not trying?" Not in those words, obviously, but he made the point that if everyone gave up on ideals because they seemed far-fetched, we'd never make any real progress. And that, I believe in.

I did work for school, and homework for class (which included a nap because that text book is so boring), and I made some lunch and I cleaned up a bit. Like I said, I spent a vast majority of the day in one spot on the couch, alternating between sitting and laying. It was wild.

It appears as though I must do another recap for the past few days, though, so here goes (in reverse order than I usually do, because I'm just crazy like that):
Saturday: actually, this is best prefaced with a note from Friday. While driving home from Stony Brook circa 1am on Friday (Saturday), my check engine light came on. Calmly, and completely unlike me, I figured, "okay, I'll go tomorrow and get it looked at. I can get that oil change I've been avoiding for about 800 miles now as well." So Saturday morning, likely still drunk from the beer & whiskey of the evening prior, I dragged myself out of bed around 9, showered, and zombied my way to the dealership's service station in Oceanside. It was at least an hour wait to drop it off, so I went for a walk. With swollen feet (see Friday's summary) I walked through the pain and kept going. I picked up coke/pepsi bottle caps and just basically wandered. I took a few pictures, this one included. I basically had to duck to get out of the way of this tree's branches, and the flowers were so unique I had to try to capture them on film. Of course, the bud itself is too close for my camera to have focused on, so the leaves are quite clear, but the picture conveys enough of the point: Somewhere near 45 minutes after leaving the service shop I came to a coffee shop in Island Park and thought breakfast would be perfect, so I wandered inside. I had just ordered a mug of tea when I realized the extent of cash I had on me was a five dollar bill. I asked the kid behind the counter if they took credit, which he shook his head at in reply. He told me about the 7-11 down the block with an ATM. I ordered a $1.50 english muffin with butter instead. I enjoyed that shop immensely. Everyone seemed to know one another. The couple at a table behind me asked the boy behind the counter if he would come over next Saturday after work at the shop and help them set up for a beach party they were having that night.

It sparked all kinds of emotion within me. Perhaps it was all of the beachy novels I've read in my time, that revolved around a woman in a small town working at a small shop of sorts and finding love when she least expects it. Hey, I'm not proud that I've read them. I went through a phase, ok? Regardless, I felt like I needed to be part of a similar community. But my fear/anxiety when it comes to water and my ignorance when it comes to boats or surfing or any of those stereotypical beach activities prohibit me from feeling like I could ever make it there, or even manage slightly without feeling entirely outcast.

The internal back-and-forth proceeded for awhile. It was kind of a self-evaluation of sorts, a desire to know who I was and what defined me. I used to say I was defined by so many different things; little pieces of here-and-there that when combined together made me who I am. But that seems like such a cop-out. Like I can't decide on one thing, so I'm allowing myself to just say "oh, I like all of those." I'm still not sure which is right. And writing this has only made me think about it all over again. So in an attempt to get my mind out of emo-ville, I shall proceed with the events of my time away from blogger.

After I returned from the shop, which, by the way, charged me $55.00 to tell me the fuel cap coil was getting caught between the fuel cap and fuel tank and to "clear it and run an evap test," I hung out with my mother for a bit. I made plans to grab some lunch with Alex, which we did at Applebee's. Then we bopped over to King Kullen to do some minor grocery shopping. I went back to moms, loaded some stuff into my car to bring to Queens, and then came back here.

Chris & I attempted to go see The Dark Knight, which we have yet to, but the show we were going to sold out while we were on line and we didn't want to rush through a dinner to make a show we bought tickets in advance to, so we vowed to go to a showing this week. I cannot believe I've yet to see this damn movie. It's like the gods are working against me.

We dined at a little place on Austin St. called Bonfire, and I'm certain were I not heartburn-ridden, I would have devoured my sesame-ginger salmon salad. It was an overall enjoyable dinner and experience. However, within minutes of leaving the establishment, a flash of lightning and accompanying thunder brought us to the conclusion that we should swing back to the apartment and grab an umbrella before heading to Astoria just in case. With that, the rain began, and we took refuge under an awning until it wasn't as heavy a downpour. The rain lasted all of ten minutes, and we made it home in time to change, grab an umbrella and head back to the train. We did not need the umbrella for the remainder of the evening.

Drinks at McGinty's was fun. It was great to see Vinny again, back from Kazakhstan for a few weeks. I wish I had gotten to talk with him more. I kind of hope I/we get another opportunity to hang out with him before he returns.

The gin & tonics were many. Someone thought it was funny to keep buying them for me just as I was about to finish the one in my hand. They succeeded in getting me to stay longer. Unfortunately, it wasn't much longer because I was wasted fairly quickly and stumbled out just after 2am. I was asleep a little over an hour later.

Friday was the longest workday I have ever worked at Suffolk Speech. I was there for nine and a half hours. There was too much to do, and too little time to do it. So who knows if they'll pay me for it. They got mad last time I worked a few extra hours. I'm pretty sure this time around it's okay, because it's not an often occurrence. I'm up to 25 hours this week, but if possible, I'll just work a few less next week.

Anyway, after work I grabbed some beer & fruit and went to Fabian's for a cookout (I can't call it a BBQ if Anne Cooper calls it a cookout!) in honor of Owen's birthday. Owen couldn't go, though, due to a death in the family of a friend. But I met a bunch of Stony Brook U. people and we had a good time and good food and a lot of fun. The glass of whiskey iced the cake. It was refreshing and enjoyable to sit around with chicks drinking whiskey, talking girl talk.

The mosquito bites, though, I could have done without. I sprayed every inch of my body with whatever Off! product was around. Ever inch save for the side/bottom of my feet. I wound up with two semi-swollen feet by the end of the night. One got me on the top of the sole of my right foot, the other on the side by my pinky toe on my left food. It was wholly unpleasant to walk around on. Especially on Saturday, when I did a significant amount of walking.

I certainly couldn't spend very much time in it, but Fabian & Meagan have this hammock, which I have dubbed "the cocoon." I got lost in that thing while Dan took pictures.I thought I was perfectly fine to drive home, but looking back I'm not entirely certain it was a good idea. I don't often tempt fate like that (anymore), so I'm grateful as usual that I got back to Lindenhurst safely. I was asleep shortly after . Apparently, I'm not the drinker/partier I once was.

I have no photos and very little story for Thursday. That friend of Owen's whose family member passed away was also a friend of Chris's, so I joined him at the wake in Ossining Thursday evening. The morning was filled with nagging emo girl thoughts, which I washed away with an afternoon of Christine & Pinot Grigio, and the evening was spent traveling to and from Ossining and the wake.

Wednesday was so long ago, I barely remember it. I do recall Chris taking out his Warhammer models and arranging them on the shelf on the bottom of the table. I'm not sure he knows I even took this picture, but oh well. ;)I'm fairly certain we relaxed on Wednesday. It was his first night "home" so we watched a movie (Jumper, which was okay, but nothing to write home about in my opinion) and then did respective stuff (like play with Warhammer models or read or putz around on the internets). I think we got into a mini-argument about the cat and my inability to immediately discuss when something bothers or upsets me, but it wasn't too intense (know how I know? I didn't cry!) and I believe ultimately some understanding actually took place. I have vowed, however, to try to dull my initial reaction emotions and try to focus more on logic. Seems I vow that a lot, though.

So now it's just about 1am and, despite the napping, I'm getting a bit sleepy. So here's to another super-long blog. The good news is Chris doesn't have to sit on the phone listening to me say all of these things. The bad news is it took forever to write it all down. ;)

Night!

Chris returns! ...eventually.

I've been so excited all day. From packing my car with the things I'd collected yesterday, to waiting patiently to leave work (longest day ever) to all of the events this evening, I am dying to see the love of my life again. His flight was delayed (at least it wasn't canceled), so he'll be home...just no telling when.

But the day was very interesting, despite my impatience through it:

As soon as I left work I got a call from Rachel telling me that a friend of their's father passed away yesterday. Hopefully I won't have to relay the sad news as I know Chris turned his phone on. So I just hope he got the message Rachel left him.

I unpacked when I got to the apartment, and wandered over to the supermarket to grab some foodstuffs. Everyone was so friendly! I compiled carts with a fellow shopper, the cashier told me to "fuck it" regarding some raviolis. Turns out the bag I brought to checkout was opened, so when I went to grab a second one, I grabbed mini ravioli instead of the large ones. Confusion at the counter? Nah, fuck it!

I logged onto someone's network when I got back (after putting things away, of course), had a bowl of cereal, and almost immediately fell asleep. I woke up when the neighbors starting thumping around though, and decided to bike ride instead of nap. I went the only place I knew how to get to/wanted to go: Joana's. I called her as I was just about to her apartment, but she didn't answer. As I was texting her instead to find out where she was, I all but passed her standing at the bus stop. She was on her way to meet Chao for dinner, and we decided to walk back together. So we picked up bottle caps and caught up on the past week and then I met her other bff, Chao. He lives, literally, five minutes from here. Two via bicycle.

While we walked, she kept her bag on my other handlebar (my helmet occupied the first), and despite the fact that I checked to see that it was okay often, it wasn't. I got a picture text as I walked in the door to the apartment. 'Twas a little ripped. She seemed to handle it well, but I know I would've been a tad aggravated about that.

I also had a missed call, and it turns out it was my teacher, Sue. Before calling her back I figured I'd check my email, and class is canceled tomorrow because Sue doesn't feel well. I called her back and left a message, but she never returned it. We'll all find out what happened come Monday. Long class that day, though. Yech.

So I neglected reading for class, but instead watched a few episodes of Scrubs and did some RA work. When I was just about finished with that, I saw it. It scurried towards the middle of the room, but receded back near the radiator. I figured it retreated for good. I was wrong. Next I looked up it was headed under the couch. I began my freak-out then. I was fairly certain a very daring cockroach was defying the light and challenging me to a showdown. I went for flip-flops, but I accidentally kicked into my sneakers and it came crawling out of one of them. And that's when I called my mother. Calming me down, she had me trap it under a pot, but not before I watched it crawl through the foyer into the kitchen, down the cabinets and back into the foyer. ::shiver:: Now, it does laps in the dark under a pot until Chris gets here and...and... does something. I'm just happy I don't have to play chicken with a GINORMOUS insect anymore tonight. Good god, I was ready to get in the car and head back to Long Island. My mom says if it's a cockroach, all of the apartments should be fumigated because there's likely an infestation. I say bring the cat over and let her work her magic. Though even I'm not sure she'd be willing to take on something a decent portion of her size.

So now it's 11:35pm, and Chris hopes to be home around midnight. I've candles lit, wine chilling, and pizza getting cold from a few hours ago. I haven't touched either the wine or the pizza as I'm waiting for him. I sure hope he's willing to humor me. I'm hungry, and I could sure use a glass of that wine after my time with Willie the Cockroach!

I have GOT to stop napping.

No, really, I do. I only managed five hours of sleep last night, so today I couldn't function without a) wanting to murder someone; or b) well, without getting some more shut-eye (or more accurately, slow-wave-sleep). So, naturally, when I got home, at 6:00pm, I went straight to sleep. Now I'm up, and it's 1:00am, and I'm going to have to force myself to sleep as soon as I'm done with this.

ANYWAY, more importantly, I guess I never explained how the Lappy got its life back. I found my order form for the comp and the warranty and it is good until 2010. But the 'limited' part scared me, so I called to see what the deal was. I got transferred around until some very commonly monotone (but polite!) man script-read me that I needed to be in front of the computer because there is sometimes a hardware complication that can be checked by discussing it, apparently. I explained, using all of the patience I could muster after spending the day on the phone with ridiculously retarded insurance company representatives, that my problem was not, in fact, hardware. I told him, for the second time, that not only did I verify that it was the AC adapter that was malfunctioning by using someone else's, but it would be impossible for me to turn the computer on while on the phone with him because it couldn't charge. After Mr. Genius checked with his supervisor, they "made an exception" for me. The supervisor even needed to get on the phone with me after Mr. G. Why, I'm not sure. He did nothing other than verify everything I had already gone though...twice, at that point. However, anticipating a 2-3 day waiting period, I received the new adapter next day, and therefore rated Dell's Customer Service highly upon receipt of yet another customer service survey. (I also did one at Jasmine, a restaurant at school, today. Pushy survey people.)

So that's Lappy's story. I was so thrilled to have 'er back, I had to spend three hours belfing last night, hence the cranky sleep deprivation. It was a bad plan. I had a test today I wound up getting a 24.5/30 on (good for some; crappy for me). And I certainly could have used that time to study properly, but I didn't, so it's entirely my fault. I'm not overly saddened by the grade, I just know I could have done better had I applied myself. But I used there being "a lot going on" as an excuse in my head, so: bad! bad linda! I will start making an effort to do some extra credit as soon as things settle down in Queens (so, like, in a day or two). And I will certainly put in the study-time for the remaining two exams. Lowest gets dropped, remember.

I was bummed that I had to hang around school for an RA meeting, and I was supposed to find ACE and go for a bike ride, but Ryan wanted to get away (bad night + even less sleep than me = two cranky tired people, just lookin' for a fix), and I suddenly had a sushi craving, so we took a quick ride up to Hoshi Sushi & Ralph's Ices. Turns out Hoshi Sushi closes at 3pm, to reopen at 5pm. We got there? 2:55pm. ::headdesk:: So we waiting forever on line for Ryan to get an icy thing, then tried to get semi-okay-but-still-kinda-crappy sushi at the Wang Center on campus. They had it at the beginning of the summer, but lo and behold, not so much for the remainder of it. The sign said, basically, "no sushi for summer." I'm sure it was worded more accurately. I'm being facetious.

Ironically enough, on our way back from the closed restaurant to campus, we heard this on XM:



I'll never think of "Fwee Wii-ry" the same again. (Scroll to around 3:15 if you don't want to listen to the entire Japanese food portion.)

So the remainder of my day was much less eventful. Did yet more "to-do" things after my nap: downloaded a shit-ton of new (old) podcasts, packed a LOT of apartment stuff to bring tomorrow, as I won't be back home 'till Friday, and then read for almost two hours for Wednesday's class. And the surprising part: that was only about half of the reading.

Chris's flight got delayed (and by delayed I mean canceled and re-scheduled), though, so now I will have a good seven hours in Queens without him, and my plan is basically to read what I didn't get done tonight, do some RA data entry work, and bike ride in the city for the first time ever. No sidewalks! I have to remember that rule (law?). I learned it at Tom's house the other night, and I was entirely unaware of it.

And now, before I try to count myself to sleep, I will take the unnecessarily long time to post a picture or two for each day that I've missed photos for. I'm actually pretty sure there's one day I didn't even take a picture, but I'll try to work around that, or, failing that, just not put one in. Oh yeah, and Sean? Is there a way to get the picture to immediately post somewhere else in the blog? Or maybe an easier way to maneuver it around? I can't fathom that the pick-up and drag, pick-up and drag, pick-up and drag method is the easiest way to add photos. Any advice?

Here's emocat. I was originally going for "laptop as pillow," but she saw me take the camera out, and preferred to do the emo "lookaway" 'cause she's fucking emocat.

Thank you and good night! (Yeah, I'm a rock star.)

Oh Em Jee, I am the worst daily blogger EVAR.

First off, I just used the non-existent word "belf" as a verb. Belf: v. the action of playing blood elf characters on World of Warcraft. ... then again, if belfs exist outside of WoW, then this would also apply to them, so I suppose the specific game title needn't be included. Ah, well. So be it.

Secondly, since I am the fucking queen of not-blogging, I will offer a half-assed explanation as to why. With Chris gone, I vowed to "occupy my mind" by having plans just about the entire time he's away. As I have followed through every day save for Wednesday, and every day since I've either a) not had access to the interwebs (stayed in Forest Hills last night) or b) got home just tipsy enough and just late enough to get no farther than checking gmail before passing out -- computer-open, light-on, entirely unprepared for bed. Like I said, I know that's a lame excuse, but it's an excuse nonetheless, ain't it?

Okay, so let's do the usual recapping thing.

Wednesday (7/23): Work. School. Nap. Movie. Internets. Bed. Alex & I were supposed to grab some drinks at Doc's, but she had a crappy day and wanted to postpone. We rescheduled for Friday. I was exhausted from getting home late from Florida, then getting home late from the Yankee game the next day, so the night off was welcomed. I watched The Nines, and really liked it. I probably played some Scrabulous and/or read a little as well. Lazy eve. (Sadly, no picture that day.)

Thursday (7/24): Ahh, a day off. "To-do" list-wise, I cleaned up my clothes, went to the bank, and wrote my paper for school, which took a little longer than expected. I then picked up a six-pack of Yuengling and headed to Tom's for some quality Wii-time. This picture is of his enormous cat, Misty. We Mario Karted and Wii Sportsed (my newfound verbs are so fun!), then Rock Banded. A lot. I was there four or five hours, easily. His step-brother Justin came to rock out with us, so I played drums while Tom sang, which was hilarious, by the way. His step-dad bought us all pasta for dinner, so I stuck around a bit for some yummy penne a la vodka. However, that made me late for the guest bartending event Brian Bivona posted on Facebook. I told James I would meet him there. It was a) a night out, and b) a chance to hang out with James so I wouldn't have to hear about how bad of a friend I was for not hanging out more often. ::eye twitch:: What is that boy going to do when the semester starts? Anyway, he thought I had lied and said I was working late which is why I couldn't go until 9:00 at night. I think he was just mad that I was a half an hour late, because I'm not dumb enough to lie about working on a day I have off every week in the summer. Really, if I were going to lie it would at least be an almost feasible one.

So the bar thing was awkward. I had a few (more) beers, and thankfully Matt & Banach & some guy I didn't know showed up. But they went off to smoke cigarettes entirely too often for it not to remain awkward. It's clearly evident there can be little to no drinking when James is present. I'm just not comfortable with it, and I don't really know how many times I have to tell him I like and respect my relationship and I am not interested in one with him as well. Or in lieu of. Or whatever he thinks he can get. Honestly, I don't know what this guy thinks, but it's neurotic however it works.

Needless to say, I went home awkward-free because I refused to let his "OMGISTHISADATE?DOIKISSHER?" interfere with my happy life. So I gave a hug, discussed a BBQ he might stop by next week, said good bye, and drove off. I passed out (computer-open, lights-on) shortly after getting home.

Friday (7/25): Work, as per the usual. But with all the time I'd taken off, I was there a little later than I wanted to be, finishing up. I got home sometime after 4pm and did more "to do" list stuffs: painted my nails/toenails, packed a bag to bring to Chris's new apartment. I likely squeezed a nap in. I met Alex at 8 at Doc Lee Lau's and we had LITs and Volcanoes and Blue Hawaiians before calling it a night, drink wise. I also got some dinner there, and might I say it was the best chicken w. cashew nuts I've had since...well, Tang's.

We definitely met some fun people. Walter, Liz and John. Walter is a 68-year old, turquoise-suit-wearing, new dancer. We talked about life goals, and school and marriage and weddings and his dance lessons and the buffet at the Carriage House that Alex and I have vowed to attend. Liz and John came a bit later, and they may have been drunk, but they were personable and fun. Fica showed up as well (didn't know him before that night), and he was also a very nice, social guy. He had to run off to pick up food from elsewhere for his woman, though, so he was only around a short while. This, by the way, is the awesome "Doc."

After Doc's we went for ice cream and barely scraped by getting into Marble Slab by roughly four minutes. They let us in, though, and even allowed me to use their very clean bathroom. Marble Slab > Baskin Robbins. OMG SO MUCH. We sat on the curb and talked some more, but it quickly turned to midnight so we parted ways.

Saturday (7/26): Moving Day! I got a gchat message from Rachel early in the morning, so I decided to get a jump on the day 'round 8:30. I was on the road to Forest Hills by 9. I took some pictures of the empty apartment, and then Tim & Rachel showed up and we cleaned and unloaded the car. The movers arrived shortly thereafter and they took about an hour to do their thing. We set some stuff up, like furniture in the living room and such. Tim unpacked his room, but I imagine it was due to the sheer easiness with the very few things he actually moved. Rachel cleaned her heart out, which I am quite grateful for. Not that I would have gone as far as she, but I didn't really have to clean much at all.

Living Room, before and after:















We all went out for lunch and had Latino at a place called Cabana. A beer and some lunch was exactly what was needed, although it made me kinda sleepy after the fact. Tim and Rachel left shortly thereafter and I showered and put some sheets on Chris's bed. Then I sat down to write Chris a note, which turned into a full-fledged letter. But all the same, it's good stuff. I met up with Mike and we went food shopping and then had some dinner at his apartment. Chris called while I was there, and I gave him the run-down that he was moved but would have a little unpacking work cut out for him, and talked a little more about my time in Florida and how things were going. He then went on about his trip and how amazing and awesome it was and just how alive he felt, and I'm really glad he got so much out of it. They're out of the wilderness, so I'll likely be hearing from him again tonight and potentially tomorrow as well. After that though, I'll see him on Tuesday. I decided it would just be easier to go there Tuesday night & Wednesday night (staying until Friday morning, as I have no work on Thursday and I would like to see Vinny during the day that day), rather than have him go to-and-from my house. It'll be cute, like playing house (apartment?) for a week. I haven't mentioned it to him yet, because it's far enough away that I don't have to, but I'd like for him to come out by me on Friday though, so we can go to Owen's birthday "cookout" Friday night. Then he goes up to Ossining Saturday morning for a 2-day D&D thing. I'm going to stay here, which is so very weird. Aside from while he's been away, we haven't not spent a weekend together since...that time it snowed so bad he just couldn't get down here. But I've Alex's BBQ on Saturday, and the movies with Amy on Sunday, and I'll be back in Forest Hills either Monday or Tuesday, so whatever. This might actually resemble a standard relationship at some point. I...I'm floored. ;)

Anyway, Mike & I headed to Sissy McGinty's for Ian's birthday, which was fun. I do miss seeing very many of those people, and hope I get the chance to more often when I start "living" in Queens. I'd like to see Christine most of all, though. What's amazing is that I know she feels exactly the same way about me. And I won't publicly explain why, because I just don't need to.

I stayed until around 3, and was quite fortunate in getting a train immediately after descending to the platform. I was "home" and asleep by 4.

Sunday (7/27): I got up somewhere after 10 and did a couple of things around the apartment before heading out. I had to bail on the matinee with Amy though because I was still in Queens when she called and wasn't going to be able to get home in time to go that early. We scheduled for later in the day, but she called shortly before leaving to cancel because her 13-year old dog was terrified of the thunderstorms and no one else was home to take care of her. So we rescheduled for next Sunday and I took a nap. We lost power for a few hours, but it didn't bother me much because I was obviously asleep for most of it. I tried to capture rain on film, because it was just torrential, but that's just one'a those things cameras suck at.

When I woke up I studied a bit for my test tomorrow, which is a little tough. It's "only" sleep class, but the hardest material is this stuff--the bio stuff. What affects what kind of sleep and what organs are responsible for them...yikes! I'll study again at work and then just before the test, so I'll do okay, but I might not get the 100% Sue is expecting from me.

I also tried to make some kind of tuna casserole thing today, but I cheated and failed somewhat. It wound up being tuna, string beans, mushrooms and parmesan cheese mixed into pasta. It's a little on the dry side. It's edible though, and that's all that counts...for now...until I try to make something for other people.

And for now, I'm going to go "belf" with Mike for a little while. I was hoping while I wrote this Chris would call, but he's obviously busy and I don't blame him for being caught up in Colorado stuffs. I'm definitely going to start adding pictures to these blogs, because I have so many, but not tonight. Probably tomorrow. I put it on my "to do" list. :o)

Back Home (a/k/a Day 3 of no contact)

I haven't spoken to Chris since Saturday night (hence "Day 3 of no contact") and I'm holding up nicely, I feel. I've been crazy busy though, with no real time to stop & think.

Today was a shit-ton of work, followed by a race home and mad dash to the LIRR, which too two hours to get from Lindenhust to Penn Station. TWO. HOURS. Jo & I made it to the Yankee game just shy of 8, but with enough time to see the Twins get ahead and the Yanks crush them, have beers, a hot dog, some cracker jacks and a good time. Don't even get me started on the DILF. Yes, it's what it sounds like. Oh, and here's Jeter's ass:

I made the train home by about...45 seconds, and had a interesting conversation with a family on the A train. Part of me will like being in the city again, and thankfully that'll be the part that bops around the city. The Long Island in me gets to continue to commute (not so sure I trust the LIRR as much though, these days).

So I've been home about an hour and all I've done is read a few emails and fight with my AC adapter and look for my warranty info (which is non-existent; I only have a packing slip that says "3 year limited warranty" -- I hate the word 'limited'). The good news is that the paper I thought I would have to be writing right now...is due on Friday. I love having a teacher that's not-so-punctual. It's really helped me out thus far. I will no longer abuse it, soon as I catch up between tomorrow & Thursday.

And now, it is almost 2 and I need to be up at 8, so this is good night for now.

(But I do miss Chris a lot.)

Florida Day 3 recap

My new(er) Dell's AC adapter bit the big one, so I can't use that computer at all until I get a new one. Hopefully, it'll be covered under the 3-year warranty I had purchased with the machine. Until then, pictureless, short blogs, which can be expanded and photoized (a new word I just made up) later.

My last day in FL was awesome. We went to the beach and saw a dolphin and laid out and swam and I filled my 22 oz. Blue Moon bottle with Florida sand. Then we had lunch at an awesome little place that had the best burger. I am always on the hunt for a good blackened/cajun burger, and this place had it. Topped with provolone and bacon -- ohmigod I'd go back just for that. I had more Blue Moon, 'cause I can't seem to get enough of that stuff, and then went back to Meagan's to pack.

I'm shocked at my ears on the flight home. They didn't hurt...at all. Bizarro. The view of the sunset was absolutely spectacular. I wrote some on the plane, but literally hand-wrote, so I may or may not transcribe to here later.

Joana and I went out for dessert and coffee after I got back, and I was out in Queens until just after midnight. I got home 'round one, unpacked, and went straight to sleep.

(More info & pictures to come when I get the new lappy chargeable.)