Sunday, November 30, 2008

Sad

I worked on a poster board collage while I was home because I didn't think I'd have time this week and anyway, a lot of my best art supplies are at home. Oh, and it is due Saturday, for my workshop thingy. So.

I put it in 2 garbage bags and placed it in the luggage area on the Amtrak train. Then I sat in a seat right in front of the luggage area next to an incredibly hot but uninterested hipster boy, and fell asleep (almost not waking up for Penn Station, fabulous!) I grabbed my 2 bags and the double bagged poster and jetted off the train, anticipating a ridiculous taxi line because of the rain (I was right.) As I'm hurrying, I hear a clinking sound from inside the garbage bag...because someone fucking thought it was a garbage receptacle and dumped potato chip wrappers and Diet Pepsi cans into it. What the fuck people? There are clearly marked trash cans all over the Amtrak trains, and the conductor came through the aisles at least twice (probably more while I was sleeping) asking if anyone had trash. You really thought the flat looking black bag leaned up against all the other luggage in the luggage area was an appropriate place to throw your trash? Ugh.

My poster board is mostly fine, kind of soggy and sticky on the one edge but it's okay...but really, that was such an unnecessary addition to my day.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

On caring, even if it's casual

Apparently I'm super over-sharey these days.

Earlier this year a really smart girl I know who has since become a close and loyal friend called me out on bullshit. I was going on about how I didn't mind not being exclusive with this guy, and how it really didn't bother me if he hooked up with other people like he promised he was going to do, and how it was really just a fun thing, nothing serious, nothing I cared about. "Shut the fuck up," she told me. "Obviously you don't want him to hookup with anyone else. It doesn't matter if he means anything or not, no one wants the guy they just kissed to turn around and kiss someone else."

I seem to be fixating on kissing these days. I think it's because for the first time in a while, there is no one in the world I would like to kiss. Hopefully leaving the country will change that.

Friday, November 28, 2008

We were in love


I haven't watched this video in so long, but the song just randomly came onto my iTunes and suddenly I felt as though I was in Hayden again. This video is freshman year of NYU. It's Matt and John and Dara and Jeff, it's sitting around stoned and entranced, it's not yet being in a sorority and not yet knowing what was coming and thinking we were infinite (thank you, Perks of Being a Wallflower). It's being so in love with my new friends, my new life, my New York City...it is only two years ago, but it is the past.

I do not regret how things are now, but I do sometimes regret that I could not hold on to that first new year forever.


Vanity

Thanks

My Thanksgiving was quite lovely. I started the day with an early (10am) morning stroll around the neighborhood with Nina, my favorite neighbor. Our discussion ranged from Newton scandal to the economy to our futures to dirty men, and I loved every second of it.

Then came the large feast, which is neither large nor feastly in my house. My family's not American and all of our extended lives in South Africa or Canada, so we did a very small, quaint, four person meal. I actually hate all Thanksgiving food, so overeating is not really an issue for me on this fine day. We watched The Graduate as a family after dinner and then I introduced my brother to Pot Psychology. I stayed up talking on the phone to my best friend in California until 4am, even though I knew I was waking up at 6am to go shopping. I made a collage of New York City and missed it a lot, even though I love home.

This morning my mom and I headed out to Natick mall Collection (LOL), quickly found me a gorgeous silver dress for my formal next week, attempted unsuccessfully to do some other shopping, and made it home by 9. I was back in bed soon after, and slept until 3pm. Glorious.

I am thankful for a lot of things this year. I won't list them here, but I feel extremely lucky and blessed. Probably a few bitchy posts will follow this one, because I got an intense haircut that I can't really deal with, and I know as soon as I get back to school on Sunday I will be swamped with work and deprived of sleep, and I'm getting antsy about going abroad and all, and mostly I just fucking hate my hair and can't believe I was dumb enough to cut off the one thing that always made me feel pretty, but you know...I am really thankful about my life. So even if I don't show it enough, I just wanted to make it clear that I am.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Bisous

Describe your Best Kiss.

That's the daunting task that has been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks. It came about via my writing class; that class has essentially shaped and structured my entire semester, so I should not be surprised. It was not formally asked; rather, one of my classmates had a character pose the question in one of her essays, and the answer that followed seemed entirely plausible and realistic. So of course, my over-obsessive-and-self-reflective brain began to fixate: which kiss would I deem my best?

It's a hard question because it is not asking about a person. The question is not, "Who is the hottest guy you've ever kissed?", nor is it "Which person on your list do you love the most?" No, instead it focuses solely on the act, the noun, the event: what kiss was best?

As a supreme life-documenter and all around weirdo, I keep a detailed list of the boys I've kissed. The list is organized chronologically, and includes first and last name when both are available. Every single entry does at least have a first name, a fact of which I am quite proud. I include location when necessary (ie: Robbie from New Jersey at Girl Talk). Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'm a freak. But I am also resourceful, so when the question of Best Kiss started haunting me, I simply whipped out the list and figured I could pick the winner easily.

My quest started out easily enough, seeing as "Robbie from New Jersey" quite clearly did not make the cut, along with a bunch of other one-timers. It's hard to claim "Tom Kassle on the beach in Puerto Rico on Valentine's Day in 10th grade" as your best kiss when you don't even really remember Mr. Kassle's face. But after I'd gotten rid of the clear losers, things became a bit more difficult. At this point in my life I've encountered a few guys I've actually cared about a lot, and kissing people you actually like always makes things trickier. Not to mention I had to keep reminding myself I wasn't searching for the best series of kisses, or the best guy...no, I wanted specifics. I wanted The Best Kiss.

Well the sad end of the story is that I don't fucking know. The girl who wrote the essay that sparked this absurd train of thought had clearly settled on one boy, her current love, because with him it just felt "right." Now that I think about it, that's totally cheating, because she didn't give The Best Kiss, just the Best Guy. I could easily pick that out, but I was searching for the answer to the assignment: Best Kiss. The qualifications for that seem a little different, because there are outside influences that the guy can't control at all. For example, add some rain to any ordinary kiss and it instantly goes up in my books. Factor in just eating garlic bread and the score is pretty much a zero, no matter how much I like you. I could go on and on, but I guess my point is sometimes enjoying a kiss has nothing to do with the guy and everything to do with your mood, the circumstances, the location, etc. So as frustrated as I was (am) not being able to pin down The Best Kiss, maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe the question my classmate ended up answering (who was best to kiss, not what kiss was best) is the important one.

Or, maybe I am a loveless lackluster loser who has never been in love and has yet to experience a fantastic Best Kiss, and has to make do with losers from Jersey at sweaty concerts in Brooklyn. Whatever.

PS: This is such an overshare-y post for me.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Explaining Millenials

A tiny grain of insight, from an incredibly sad and upsetting post on Jezebel:
"If it's not recorded or documented then it doesn't even seem worthwhile," Miller said. "For today's generation it might seem, 'What's the point of doing it if everyone isn't going to see it?'"

Spring Schedule: London

So, four day excursions every weekend? Okay great.

Overheard in NYC

"So the economy, it's not really picking up, huh?" - cab driver 11/21

Vanessa: I think the boys who enter my life must know I'm a writer. Like, they have to know. They give me such good material. This kind of stuff can't happen to everyone, right?
Jamie: Actually, I think everyone does have stories like yours...you're just the only one I know who tells them.

NYC kills me every year around winter time.

Bear with me.
Bare with me.
Either/or.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Monday Routine

Monday is my only day where I have a tiny bit of free time during the week, and I've gotten settled in a very lovely routine.

9:30am: Wake up.
10:26am: Get the bus. Run into Sara when I'm lucky.
11:00am: Brit Lit II. Obsess over how fabulous Professor Poovey is. Actually pay attention, except for last week when I was cracked out on Benadryl and could not stay awake. Talk to Zach and Pat and Amalia.
12:15pm: Pick up pay check (every other week.)
12:30pm: Errands. For example, today I cancelled housing for next semester and went to FedEx.
1:00pm: Brave the crowds at Trader Joe's. Aim to be done by 2.

Then I walk home, put away my groceries, chat with Jackie who has usually been sleeping up until then, cook something (usually turkey stew which sounds gross but is delicious), take a nap, and head to work.

I missed the nap today so I feel like my head is going to explode, but cooking relaxes me so much and the whole routine just makes me love Mondays. Weird.

Oh my gosh, a post!

My ludicrous passport photo for my visa.

Nothing like announcing that I blog again to kill the creative juices. That or I just don't have a moment to breath these days, let alone sit down and type. It seems like my head is always hurting and my body is always aching but really I know in my heart that I couldn't be happier. Go figure.

A lot is going on and at the same time, nothing at all. It turns out going abroad is very stressful to prepare for, at least if you're me. I'm a very To-Do-List type of person, and I just love crossing something off a jam-packed to-do list. However, everything to do with study abroad seems to happen in bits and pieces, so nothing ever gets entirely taken care of. For example, I had to send my passport, permanent resident card (love being a Canadian citizen), application, etc. to the British Consulate in New York today. So I did that, but the item on my list says "Get Student Visa", and while yes, my act of going to FedEx and sending off my shit helps accomplish that, I still do not have my visa in my hand. So I can't cross off the item. And so it goes.

Aside from the stress though, I'm actually getting incredibly excited (and nervous) about going abroad. I am not going with any friends, and while that is how I always wanted it, now I'm starting to feel a little jealous of the Prague girls, of Amanda and Renee in Madrid...at least they will all have someone to be friends with. I'm entering freshman year all over again: no friends, random roomie, blind optimism that will most likely end in crushing reality...well you know, we'll see. It's also motherfucking London, so maybe things won't be so bad.

I can't sleep in past 9am until I go home for Thanksgiving, and that thought just depresses me so much. I am really excited to go home and just sleep in my own bed and have my mom take care of me. I don't understand people who don't love going home; I don't think I'd love the city as much if I didn't always have Newton, too.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Reality Bytes:

I've been off Facebook for a week (and to be honest I crave it really badly every day–WTF?), but I just can't stay away from blogging. I guess I have too much to say and a big enough ego to assume at least some people care.

"There is no right or wrong. Just the consequences of your actions." 
Californication

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Yes we did: making history

Silly as it may be to come "out of" retirement the day after deciding upon it, I couldn't not blog this moment. I spent the beginning of the evening anxiously glued to the television with some dear friends, and then moved the party home to continue watching CNN alone. As soon as it became apparent that Obama had won (and I do mean as soon as) Anusha came to my door and rang the bell hysterically, making me pleased I still live in the dorms. We had a moment in the hall where we both cried. Then we ran up to Dena's room only to be told we were going out. We went to Union Square, Times Square, and Rockefeller Center. As Sam just wrote, I know this is New York City, but still, the hope is palpable. The excitement and unity is tangible. A man I respect a lot, who shall remain nameless, somberly told me that if McCain lost the election, we would be entering "a very dark time." I love this man, but I have to say: he is wrong. I feel hope. I feel optimism. Watching Obama's speech had me in tears again. The crowds cheering tonight, YES WE DID, made me confident about the future. I may not have always loved Obama, but he is the one to do this job, and I believe he will come through. Tonight, though I am not an American citizen, I am proud to belong to this country. And I could tell that every single person I encountered on the street felt the same way, and I think that is a sign of a really good new beginning.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Retirement

I accidentally slept through my first class today, and now I'm trying to write a personal essay for my creative non fiction class. What's the essay about? How I think I need to quit the internet.

I know other people have tried to do this before me. Some have taken hiatuses, some have attempted to take back the internet, some have stormed right off. They all come back. I know this because I am addicted to Gawker and know who Emily Gould, Keith Gessen, and that weird rich kid who they mock a lot (what's his name?) are. I also know friends who have attempted to delete their Facebooks, but except for one, they've always ended up coming back (which, if you think about it, is actually so fucking creepy–even when you delete your Facebook, they still keep all your info. It's like they know you'll be back. Or like they're keeping files on everyone. It makes me wonder if they keep everything you've ever posted, like if on some backup server somewhere every single photo, interest, or favorite quote that I have since deleted or edited is still piled up. Weird.)

Still, I think it's time for me to take an internet break. I know I'll be back. But hear me out.

First of all, I am an oversharer and an exhibitionist by nature. I think it is something that a lot of writers struggle with, but I also just think it's a facet of my personality. I've been thinking about this problem for a while, but it finally really hit home this past Friday. I found myself in a diner on Halloween, recapping the evening with a close friend. Surrounding us were about 8 girls I am not close with at all. I was babbling on and on, telling quite a good story if I do say so myself, and everyone was giggling and appreciating it, and then I stopped and thought What the fuck are you doing? Like, yes I was telling a good story, but it involved all sorts of private details that no one at the table really needed to know, not even my close friend. And like, I complain about feeling like I have no privacy, but I do it to myself. I am the one who gossips about myself. I only have me to blame.

I have been trying to tone my verbal oversharing down since sophomore year of high school, so I don't expect that to miraculously change or improve overnight. Still, I realize that I also overshare on the internet, much as I try not to. The fact is, I blog, I have a Flickr, and although my Facebook is super private, if you have access to it there is a lot of shit on there that really...no one needs to know. I guess this decision has come from a lot of separate mini-realizations over the past few weeks, but basically, it comes down to this: I feel like I am an internet addict, I feel like I wish I was more mysterious or at least just less obvious, and I don't feel like a real person anymore.

So I'm storming off the internet. Except not really. I'm more just sort of tip-toeing away for a while, with the knowledge that I will 100% be back. I just know that for right now, I need to be unknown, or at least more so than I currently am. So I'll be checking my Gmail once a day, and doing anything I need to do for class, obviously. I'll blog for Cosmogirl because that is my job, but I will not be blogging here, I will not be adding photos to my Flickr, and as soon as I finally work up the courage, I will be deactivating my Facebook. I will also attempt to avoid AIM as much as possible.

If you need me, I appreciate snail mail, but phone calls are also acceptable.

xoxo,
Gossip Girl