Saturday, December 10, 2011

and then there was...still one.

i'm back.  it's been a while, i know. in that time a lot of things have happened.

i took my exams, which really deserve their own entry.  this was, perhaps, the single worst experience of my life.  i finished, but not the way i wanted to.  i did everything in my power to control my environment so that maybe i could avoid the mental disintegration that inevitably engulfs me in times of stress.  it didn't work.  my body fully internalized the stress, which manifested itself in intense back pain, devastating anxiety attacks, and blinding migraine headaches.  i have a history of panic attacks, but i have never had ones like the ones i had that week.  long story short, i was basically living on benzos and marlboro light 100's and boba tea. i spent the week lying in bed writing trying to ignore back spasms. if you've ever had them, you know this is impossible.

all of this plunged me into a deep spiral of self-loathing, which i spent lying in bed listening to noah and the whale and watching 'workaholics'.  i have emerged from this with the conclusion that i can't always control what my body does.  i just can't.  as much as i hate it, i can't.  i dislike diagnoses, but i know that there is something wired differently in my brain.  this is something i have to try to work around. i simply cannot go on hating myself.  i worked as hard as i possibly could.  i studied as hard as i possibly could.  the fucked up thing is that i knew all of the answers.  i just can't work under the conditions that were forced upon me.  i just couldn't.

which led me, in a sort of round about way, to a second realization. i have hated so many things about myself for so long.  i have been so ashamed of so many things about myself.  i've let other people exploit those feelings.  most particularly, the last person i was closely involved with.  this person essentially was like "i love you, but you're too fucked up to be in a relationship."

yes.  they said this.  in those words.

they recommended that i read "i hate you, please don't leave me," because it reminded them of me.  for those of you that don't know, this book is about borderline personality disorder.  this is something that i most definitely do not have.  even in my most acutely hypochondriac moment, i cannot begin to imagine that i have this.  when i said "please don't ever diagnose me again.  you aren't a doctor and clearly haven't read this book." they were like "when someone loves you, they will tell you the truth no matter what."

for any of you that are confused, this is.  not.  love.  this is what emotionally abusive people say to justify their own fucked up actions.  no one that loves you will say fucked up things like that and then pretend that they are justified in doing so out of love.  this person said things like that all the time.  they said some of the most hurtful shit anyone has ever said to me.  if i said "stop.  you're hurting me.", then i was too sensitive.  if i got angry, i had an anger problem.  if i laughed it off, i was cynical.  i couldn't see it, but it was a game that  i could never, ever win.

and i believed them. i believed them because they preyed on things that i hated about myself.  things that i try everyday to change.  it didn't come from a place of understanding or wanting to help.  the person that loves you will want to listen to you.  they won't just point out what is wrong.  they will do whatever it takes to help you.  even if that means listening to you cry.  especially that. the person that loves you will do whatever it takes.  and, as my friend b said, the person that loves you will never make you feel like you are a burden.

and that is that.  i just have to do better next time.  maybe you do have to hide your love away, like the song says.  because once people see that, they'll take you for everything you have.

i have to believe, though, that not everyone is this way.  so far every time i try to get close to anyone, it ends with me panicking and cutting off all contact.  but, i keep trying.  it's all i can do.

i also got some new tattoos, but that's for later.

Monday, November 14, 2011

trying to keep it all in

sometimes you have to let it all out.  but, sometimes, it's better to keep it all in.  especially when you're at work.

luckily, i'm from the south and that makes me a master at gritting my teeth and smiling through things.  i'm tired of people asking me stupid shit.  i'm tired of reading bad papers.  i'm tired of having to pretend that i even give a fuck.

mostly i'm tired of not getting any returns on my substantial investment of time and self.

and it is making me mean.  when i was at the psychic last week, she though out the cards and was all like "mira, mira...the KNIFE," referring to the dominance of sword cards.  and she explained that i needed to be very careful not to externalize my state of exhaustion onto other people.  because i can be very hurtful.

but it's hard.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

from disaster to delight

deviation from my normal routine is usually a recipe for disaster, or, at the very least, the onset of a feeling of disaster that follows me for the rest of the day.

my impending exams have me feeling like i'm having a slow psychotic breakdown.  so...last night i took the night off (which i never do) so that i could relax my mind by playing video games and eating copious amounts of  sugar washed down with tecate.  so i got home at like 1am-ish and started reading "a monetary history of the united states," because it was the closest thing to my pillow.  the point is that i stayed up way past my usual bedtime and so i woke up late.

and it was fucking raining.  which it never does here.  apparently, fall started this week. anyway....

so i got up late and i saw the rain and just knew that the coffee bean would be full of people who would normally be walking around downtown.  and it was.  it was full of children, who, in my opinion, do not NOT belong in a coffee shop.  if i wanted to listen to children before i've had coffee, i would have my own children.

so... there was no place for me to sit. and i had to come to starbucks, which was not part of the plan for the day.  so i was not happy about that.

but when i got to starbucks it wasn't so bad.  first, they keep it much warmer in here than coffee bean does.  lately, i have felt like i am freezing to death.

second, i ran into this woman who i feel is one of the most beautiful people i'v ever seen.  and usually i see her at coffee bean on weekday mornings.  when i see her, i have to try not to stare at her.  she doesn't look like a model or anything like that.  but she it just so interesting to look at.  like charlotte gainsbourg.  and she is impeccably put together.  her clothes are beautiful and they look perfect on her.  she just has the most perfect way about her.  i don't even know how else to describe her other than i just love to look at her.  she's the absolute truth.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

faux revolution

at a work party the other night someone asked me, "how do you feel about occupy wallstreet?" and i was all "i would join them, but i would feel like a bit of a hypocrite with $200 of christian dior makeup in my bag."

one person (the gay man) got it.  but the other person was like "how did you afford $200 worth of make-up?"

here's how.  i don't have kids/ a partner/other superficial drains on my disposable income.  and i put my skin first.  you only get one set of skin.  investing in quality skin care products is less expensive than corrective surgery later on.  i  am making efficient use of my resources like a proper economist.  also, i didn't just go spend that much at one time.  this cache of make-up has been amassed over the past year or so.  and it lasts longer than the cheap shit at cvs.

but, still, i found myself having to defend my recreational purchases.  i am well aware of just how bougie i seem.    let me say a few things in my on defense.  i was happiest when i was in africa.  seriously.  even though i was only there for a month.  after i had a melt down and adjusted to the little diffferences, i  i was free in a way  that i will never be in the first world.  my anxieties went away.  it didn't matter how i looked.  all that mattered was making it through the day.  i felt more at home in that world.

but, the thing is, i live in THIS world.  i am in and out of LA on a regular basis.  i have to be able to show my face without shame, as they say.  i need to be able to get people to talk to me and work with me.  it is much easier to do that with a flawless complexion.  recoil if you want, but when holding everything else constant, the pretty face gets you farther.

now back to the revolution...

i'm not going to stand with the unwashed masses on this one.  when they come up with a plan, an agenda, and a goal then i'll consider it.  i'm not denying that their cause is righteous, i'm just trying to figure out exactly who they are blaming and for what. and they need to educate themselves on political economy, especially the purpose of  the fed.

urlike meinhof, the epitome of revolutionary chic, said the following "protest is when i say what doesn't please me.  resistance is when i make sure what doesn't please me occurs no longer."  she was also the truth when it came to starting the revolution.  she lived revolution.  for her it was an ongoing process of being, not just organized griping.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

the devil in the details

i'm not a gambler.  i don't play the odds.  i don't like casinos and the only reason i like the track is because horses are amazingly beautiful.

i am careful about everything.  i am overly cautious.

when faced with a decision, i go through every possible alternative.  i think through every scenario.  i consider every outcome. i have always been this way, especially when it comes to love and other people.

oh, yes.  it's going to be one of those posts.

i haven't wanted to talk about this here, or anywhere else for that matter.  i'm just so ashamed about the fact that i still think about the other.  that, after all of the time that has gone by, i am still so hurt by the way they treated me.  and i'm constantly frustrated at how one tiny misjudgment could manage to spread its nuclear fall out into all areas of my life.

fact:  i trusted the wrong person.  fact: this person was a complete fucking liar.  fact: i assumed this all along, but i believed the things they told me, because i wanted to believe that someone could love me. i wanted to believe that someone would want to make a life with me.  i wanted to believe all the good things they said about me, because no one had ever said them to me before.

i wanted to believe that i was more than just a certain body type. i wanted to believe  that when someone looked at me they didn't just see the way i looked or someone that i would be great to fuck because i happen to have the measurements of a pin-up.  it isn't my fault i look like this.  if i could change myself, i would.

i lost weight because i thought i would look less curvy.  but my proportions stayed the same.

i cringe on the inside whenever people say anything about my body.  all i feel is shame, because i know what people see when they look at me.  i know what they think.  and i know that no matter what they say...the endgame is the same.  always.

i wanted to believe that someone could see my heart, which i think is still good despite a long history of bad decisions.  i wanted to believe that they could appreciate all the good things about me, like my good taste and my work ethic and my desire to be the best at everything i do.

fact:  the biggest liar of all was me.  i lied to myself when i told myself not to let fear get the better of me, that that this person was different.

i should be fair and say that this isn't about them, per se.  they are just the latest in a long line of bad decisions on my part.

but now i don't even bother.  i am incapable of trust.  i don't bother to invest in other people, because what's the point?  i show people what they want to see and not who i really am.  because i know, in my heart, that i'm not good enough.

i go through every detail of myself to try to figure out what is so bad about me.  when all of this was happening (and it's been a while), all i wanted to say was 'why am i not good enough for you?  just tell me what's wrong with me and i can fix it.  i can be better than what i am.'

but they never even gave me a chance to ask.  and they never told me why.  and now i just wonder all the time.  i go into every relationship just waiting for the inevitable.  i wait for the other person to discover that thing that makes me fundamentally unlovable.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

dear ______,

mother nature,

thanks for blessing me with the most heinous cramps ever.  the pain makes studying so much more productive.  also, thank you for filling me with a mood so horrifying that even my stash of benzos can't pull me out of it.  i can't even medicate myself to sleep because the pain is so intense.  

pepsico representative,

thanks for waking me up from my attempted nap to tell me that on the only day off i have this week you're going to be filming some stupid commercial on the most efficient route that connects my apartment to the rest of the world.  i hope  you understand that when i slammed the door in your face it was more a function of my above situation than a reflection of my respect for you as a working person.

neighborhood cholos,

i understand that your car is amazing (no, really, it is).  i appreciate a vintage caddy just as much as the next girl, maybe even more so.  and i also appreciate that your sound system is so incredible that when you drive within two blocks of my apartment i feel like i am actually at the club.  naturally, this would make you want to drive around and around and around the block.  and not just on friday and saturday nights between the hours of 1-3am, but also on sunday afternoon.  however, i would have more respect for your endeavor if you didn't have "last night a dj saved my life" on constant repeat.  i'm just sayin'. 

trader joe's,

thanks for embarking on a new venture where you cover everything i love to eat in chocolate.  i'm referring, in particular to potato chips and pretzel chips.  i really needed to put on those five extra pounds. 

sigh...sometimes you just have to let it all out.  

Thursday, October 6, 2011

99 problems

i think i always come back here when the stress becomes to much to bear.  but hey, it's my blog and i'll kvetch if i want to.

the downside of prepping for exams is that i feel like i am having a slow psychotic breakdown.  which i am handling by over-preparation and self-medication.

the upside is that stress literally melts the pounds off of you. i looked in the mirror and felt thin for the first time in weeks.  but as much as i would love to look at myself in the mirror all day long, i don't have time for that.

i also handle stress by seeking out validation in all kinds of ways.  the worse i feel inside, more effort i put into looking good.  which costs money and time, but is always worth it to me in the end.  yesterday, i got up early.  i put my hair in rollers.  i put on make-up and the new dress i bought.  everywhere i went people told me how pretty i was.  my favorite coffee bean lawyer looked at me in a way that made my whole morning.  he literally stopped mid-sentence to look at me.

little do these people know that if they talked to  me for more than 20 seconds i would be crying.  

today i am going to try these bad feelings go.  it's the right day for it, given that at sundown the highest of all high holy days begins.  the day of casting away sin.  my problem is that i don't have that much sin to cast away.  not that i'm totally clean, but i really haven't done anything that bad since last year.  so i will try to cast away my bad feelings towards myself.  i think it should be obvious from my (re) interpretation of yom kippur that i'm not jewish.  i just love high holy days in the most respectful way possible.  i love the symbolism,  especially the idea of getting a clean slate for the new year.

i can, on the other hand, think of some persons that need to do some serious atonement.  in fact, one day might not be enough for them.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

shirking, yes. satisficing, never.

i woke up today with every intention of really studying for exams.  and i may still do that.  i need to do that.  but here are some other things i must do today:

go to the bank...go to sephora...get my eyebrows done...get my nails did...go to LA...see a guy about a tattoo...see my something, at some point...

you might be thinking that some of these things are more essential than others.  like that studying for exams is more crucial than getting my nails done.  not so.  all of these things contribute directly to my sense of self.

if i could pick, i would stay in my house all day and read about game theory and think about my dissertation.  but...before i can do things that i like i have to do a whole lotta things that i don't like.  i wish i could just take my exams tomorrow and be done with it.  the waiting is killing me.

Monday, September 19, 2011

oh, technology!

wanna know what i learned today?

i learned that when your voicemail says that your message will be saved for forty days, what it really means is forever.

my friend w. called today and left a message.  while i was checking her message, my analyst called on the other line. so i answered.  but i had started w's message already so to get to it again, i had to listed to alllll of my old messages.  of which there were many.  some of them quite old.

i had no idea.  i had no idea at all that these messages were still out there floating around in space or wherever.

what i also didn't know is how sad it would make me to hear the voice of the other.  it hurt a lot.

and i fucking hate that.  i hate that i feel anything for this...this sociopath.  actually, i'm not convinced that true sociopaths exist.  it's just a convenient and fun label for someone who is, as far as i can tell, completely and utterly devoid of feelings.  they are missing the sensitivity chip.

and i hate it because all these feelings are making me a total bore.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

money can't buy class, but... can buy you corsets and boy toys.  which, in their own ways, equal class.  obviously.  and we all know that there ain't nothin' classier than parlaying your life of leisure into a reality show.  just sayin'

AND i will point out that guys should pay close attention, as this is essentially an instruction manual for how to act.  kind of like what i was trying to do in a couple of classic posts from 2009 (look them up).

Thursday, August 25, 2011

you can't go home again

yeah, thomas wolfe, you ain't fucking kidding.

i went out last night with a guy that i used to really like. ten years ago, the only thing i wanted was for him to ask me out. or to want to hang out. or do whatever college kids do when you're seeing each other. i mean, i really liked this guy.

a lot can change in a decade. feelings especially.

i wasn't feeling anything. except discomfort. extreme discomfort.

leave it to me to take what could be a perfectly good time and make it a painful, awkward experience. being out with someone on something that was a really strange cross between a date and two old friends hanging out was simply more than i'm capable of right now. i wanted to go home before i even left the house.

so for all my talk about practical love and giving people a chance and remaining open....if the vibes aren't there, it's not for me. i just can't fake it.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

a regular joe

she's a regular joe. you'll fall in love with her like everybody else.

if i recall from my copy of lauren bacall's autobiography, this is how humphrey bogart described her. i always thought that was one of the nicest things i had ever heard anyone say about anyone else. they were married only 10 years and for like a third of that, he was dying. but according to both, those were the best years they ever had.

i don't believe in finding that kind of love for myself anymore.

everybody loves a charade

i gotta admit the truth....

i fucking hate politics. nothing bores me more. i don't know who you should vote for, because that is something you should decide for yourself. i don't know who is going to win the election, because i don't study elections. i don't care who wins the election, because we're pretty much fucked either way.

i like economics, but no politician has a substantive knowledge of economics. that much should be abundantly clear, given the state of things.

this is all of great disappointment to my parents (and everyone else that talks to me for five minutes about what i do), as technically, i study politics. i have to explain again and again that while i study political processes, i could give a fuck about the day to day goings on as chronicled by rachel maddow and the like. the exception to this is the beauty pageant of crazy that is the republican party, but that's completely different. that is like driving by a horrible car accident and not being able to look away, despite the gruesome carnage.

i wish i could just discuss meaningful, interesting things. like the fact that yaya should have won antm cycle 2, not eva. or ahhhhndrea's freudian college dreams on 90210. or how could brenda NOT see that kelly totally hooked up with dylan when brenda went to france? i mean seriously, is she fucking blind?

yes. i'm watching 90210 season three right now. what of it?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

[ (lifetime movies + unresolved emotional issues) * most heinous period ever] ^ full moon ->

a seriously fucked-up day. or, if not fucked-up, then, at the very least an extremely emotional one.

first, there was a lot of pain of both the emotional and physical varieties. it felt like someone had my cervix in a vice. it was like that scene in casino where joe pesci pops that guy's eye out of his head. except it was my cervix. i haven't the faintest clue as to why i was in this pain. but i do know that i took 5 extra strength advil liqui-gels and IT DIDN'T MAKE ONE GODDAMN BIT OF DIFFERENCE. i laid on tb's bed crying. i started crying because of the pain, but it turned into a crying jag in which all of my inner pain came pouring out and i began crying over all the spilled milk of the past year, which no matter how i try to put to the side, keeps coming back.

after aboug half and hour, tb was like "you're making me feel really sad." and i was all like "imagine how i fucking feel, then."

then i came home and my mother had left on the lifetime network. so i watched "the holiday," basically crying through the whole thing. this was after we watched "the young victoria," which is this super beautiful love story. i had to hold back the tears, because i don't like to cry in front of other people (except for tb, apparently). even my mother.

i drew the line at "ps. i love you."

instead, i turned on a movie i have watched at least five times this week, "secretariat." this movie makes me all weepy, but at least there are horses in it. i never tire of watching it. i like to see secretariat win at the end. interestingly, my research (and by this i mean wikipedia) indicates that the reason that this horse could do what he did was because of his big heart. literally. his heart was more than twice the size of that of a normal horse. he was so beautiful.

now i just feel drained. so i think i'll sleep, until around 4am when i am certain that my insomnia will kick in like it has every other night this week.

my period MUST end soon.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

fruits of my superficial vine

ever have one of those days when it was all worthwhile? a day when every sacrifice big and small seems totally worth it and not such a big deal after all?

i finally had one of those days.

i was at the origins counter at macy's. i was there to buy some of the new spot remover.

i had to wait at the counter, while the woman working there was demonstrating some product on a customer who was cashing in on the free facials.

the facial woman asks the salesgirl about the spot remover, "does it work?"


the salesgirl says "of course it does. look at her [my] skin, it's perfect. you can't see one blemish."

finally. the obsessive-compulsive skin care regimen that i strictly adhere to has paid off. at. fucking. last.

it was the best day of my life.

Monday, July 11, 2011

a prickly situation

so i mentioned before that i love to eat clams straight out of the shell. it is the most satisfying thing in the world, next to boba of course.

but in thinking about this satisfaction and its root causes, i came to the conclusion that no matter how satisfying there is something inherently violent about ripping something out of its home with your mouth. and then eating it. and loving the experience.

so i took this to a new level...

at the restaurant, in addition to the extraordinary shellfish selection, they were also featuring sea urchin. apparently, it is in season. also, it was something i have never tried, although i have eyed it leeringly at the sushi bar.

so the way it works is, you basically pick a sea urchin out of the tank, which is located strangely (or not) between the quahogs and the mollusks, and the crack it open on the spot and hand you a spoon.

no big deal, right? but dig this...


the whole time you are scooping out its internal whatever, savoring its pudding-y texture and briny aftertaste, the sea urchin is moving its spines to and fro. at first i was ok with this as i thought it was just some sort of neurological sensory delay and that the waving was just some sort of uncontrolled spasm.

not. fucking. so.

if you put your finger near the spines, it would grab onto it.

yes. that is correct. you hear me right. it would latch onto your finger. intentionally.

i'm not sure how to feel about this. even though i have been assured from an extremely reliable source that uni have NO central nervous system whatsoever, i still am not sure if it is right. i'm not sure at all.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

the cockles of my heart

yesterday, i went to the best place ever.

it was like heaven. delicious, steamed, shellfishy heaven.

i can't remember if i've mentioned this or not, but i have a major thing for shellfish. particularly, clams and mussels. most particularly clams. and most especially if those clams are in the shell.

i went to a restaurant where they had tanks of seafood from which you selected your meal.

they had every kind of clam. cherry stone. qoahogs. cockles. littlenecks. manilas. could mix and match from the tanks and the guy would steam them on the spot. so i ordered as many clams as i thought i could reasonably eat/share. it was just like heaven.

there is something so immensely satisfying about sucking them out of the shells. i can't explain it. i like the way the shells click against my teeth. and the texture of the clam is perfect to me. there is something about mussels and i only am in the mood for them some of the time and only if the sauce they are served in is really good. and i find oysters to be far too gooey for my liking.

but i think clams are perfection. big or small, i love them all. at this restaurant there was no sauce. just freshly steamed clams. and lemon. and my true happiness.

and that's not all...stay tuned to find out what happened when i encountered a prickly ethical dilemma re: my lunch....

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

the british are coming....bitch.

if someone asked me about a historical event, particularly concerning american politics, my explanation would probably sound something like this...

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

the most useless thing... that which is behind us. unless you're a lacanian or a freudian and then it is the only thing that matters.

a couple of weeks ago, my therapist suggested (i almost used the word 'accused' here...isn't THAT something) that i haven't told him very much about my past. the truth is, i hardly remember my past. i've blocked a lot. maybe on purpose. maybe because it was a long time ago. but i can't remember it as a continuous narrative. i remember only feelings or smells or things i hear or how the weather was on a given day and that makes me think of people or things.

i live in this web of my own significance that i spun myself and is held together by some sort of never ending free association matrix.

i've been particularly nostalgic lately.

i thought about a friend i knew when i was living in memphis. and i want to call and ask him does he remember the time we went to the blue monkey because you could smoke there and it poured rain. like a monsoon. and i drank raspberry vodka and orangejuice and he drank diet coke (because he didn't drink) and we smoked cigarette after cigarette and talked about philosophy while we watched the streets flood.

it was the night before thanksgiving. the thanksgiving that i worked all day and then ended by eating french toast with southern pecan syrup at ihop.

or something strikes me and i think about a guy i met on a train in paris over a decade ago, when i was just 18. he asked me for the time and i didn't understand what he said because the french classes i took in high school woefully underprepared me for actually HEARING people speak french. and he smiled and asked me in english and i said i didn't know. i didn't have a watch. and this was way before everyone had a cell phone. we rode on the train, looking at each other for three stops before i reached my destination. i still remember his eyes. the way he smiled. and how i wished that i wasn't with my family so that i could talk to him.

he was an artist. he had a portfolio of some sort under his arm. it's strange. i don't remember this morning, but i remember his eyes.

but mostly, and i'm sure you see already where this is going, when i walk into the blinding sunlight i think of the other. and i want to say 'do you remember?' do you remember how you were walking to meet me that day and i came out of the lingerie store and i saw you first. you were walking down the street and i don't think that you could see me yet were the only person i saw on that busy street in that vaguely european city. the only one. we walked through chinatown, looking at the strange produce and wondering what the fruits tasted like.

and then we went into a bakery and i had cake for breakfast. sponge cake.

and how i wanted to reach for you, but i couldn't bring myself to do it. i sit here now wondering if i had, would things have turned out different? instead of me sitting here alone thinking of you, we could laugh together about that day. and you would tease me about something i did or said. and we would laugh some more.

maybe we would laugh about i said that the only thing that would make my sponge cake breakfast better would be champagne.

i love champagne for breakfast.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

just tell me i'm pretty

it's been a while, but i'm back.

i came across this article the other day, entitled (most obnoxiously) "how to talk to little girls." but it gets better. it was written, it seems, by lisa bloom who is none other than gloria allreds's daughter. if you're rolling your eyes and losing interest, then you're not alone.

i forced myself to read read this piece to the end.

essentially, it's about how you should avoid focusing on girls' appearances and talk to them about books or...something.

i realize that right now i'm kind of pissing on feminism. but that's because this sort of mackinnon-dworkin-steinem interpretation of women's empowerment is both antiquated and unproductive. not to mention completely alienating. to fellow women. not men. their discomfort with sexuality bled all over their work, shaping the women's movement into one that never developed an appropriate conceptualization of the enjoyment of sex in all forms.

if you want to read something interesting and helpful to this end, read carol queen.

but...i digress. that's not what the article was about. i'm just providing the intellectual history, that, yes, i am interjecting into my interpretation of the piece.

which is that, according to this line of thought (however implicit it is), is that women are automatically objectified. in every case. in every situation. end of story.

i want to be told i'm pretty. every day. all the time.

because i am pretty. beautiful, even.

in fact, i'm fucking hot.

seriously. i look better than i ever have. hair done, nails done, nice clothes. the whole package. i do it for me. so that when i look in the mirror (or at my reflection in store windows as i walk down the street), i like what i see.

and when i have a daughter, i will tell her every day how pretty she is. and also how smart. and how in this world, you have to use both.

now, i know that some people will read this and think 'wow. the person that wrote this in in denial. total false consciousness.'

not exactly. i'm just amazingly superficial.

Monday, June 6, 2011


i'm hurting for caffeine. i want coffee, but i don't want to go too the coffee shop and get it. and i don't have a coffee maker here. i do have really good tea and an electric kettle that i keep filled with bottled water because i want to limit my exposure to chromium-6. but i don't have any cream because when i was sick with that sinus thing i got rid of all the cream because it's not good for your throat. and then, in a surge of empowerment, i decided that i didn't need cream in my life at all anymore because the calories are ridiculous. so i didn't buy more.

i could drink the tea without cream like i've been doing every morning, but for some reason that seems to be not what i want.

i'm just out of energy and tired of writing.

i've laid on the floor for the past three hours working on this paper. which is taking for fucking ever. i know, right? the floor. i spent all of that money on the imac and a desk, but i would rather lay on the floor in front of the imac and work on my laptop. don't get me wrong, i LOVE the imac and i do a lot of work on it, but today i can't even be bothered to sit erect. that's how tired i am.

FUCK. i need some encouragement.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

but sleep won't come

i can't sleep.

which is no good, because i was working on a paper and i couldn't stay awake. my eyes were literally closing. i couldn't keep them open.

i am bothered by so many small things right now. such as...what i am going to do with my plants when i go home. i have to find somebody to care for them or they will die. and while they aren't expensive, this would upset me greatly. and i don't know how to explain to someone that there is a small spider living in an an intricate but hard to see web in the thai basil. so you have to be careful when you water it, but you should drip water drops onto the web, so that the spider won't dry up in the heat. i'm fairly certain that no one will understand that.

the orchid, however, will probably live. it won't bloom, but it won't die. that is its way. it is even growing a new shoot. but no flower. it simply wants to entwine itself with the herbs. it doesn't matter how i turn it or if i impose some measure of distance in between the two pots. it stretches out, reaching for the thyme rather than the sunlight.

and all the writing i still have to do. i don't have the energy to do it. but i don't feel any discernable stress about that. other than the stress of wanting to get it done.

and then there is the stack of books that i have been compiling in preparation of my impending exams that i will take in november. books that i will have to read. i was excited when i ordered them, because i like buying things. i was excited when they arrived, because i like getting packages. i was excited when i opened them, because i wasn't sure which one i was getting and the surprise was exciting. but now the are simply one more thing i have to do that i don't have the energy for.

and i thought about the other today. and i cried. i keep waiting for the day when the thought of them won't make me have that reaction. or any reaction. i want to have no reaction at all. i want to forget them and i don't understand why, thus far, i cannot seem to do so. in my mind their life is perfect without me, while mine is miserable without them. i keep hoping for the day when i don't hope to hear from them.

and i know that i what i really hope for is not to forget them or feel nothing for them, but only to have them back in my life.

and that is the one thing i have no control over. and that is the reason i can't sleep.

Monday, May 30, 2011

exhibit A

i'm sitting at the coffee shop where i came to do work. it's like a character study on couples. i think because it's a holiday and the lawyers are off playing golf or whatever it is they do when not working. i miss them. today it's all couples because i think that they are coming from across the street where there is a famous hotel (hint: richard nixon got married there) and these couples come there to rekindle romance (because nothing bring romance to mind like the nixons) or whatever it is you have to do when you've been fucking the same person for way too long and there ain't no end in sight and now you have a house and kids and it would be too costly to sort through all of that. there are couples doing crosswords together and sitting and not talking. and the there is the couple that are having their first date (i know, right? 8:30am on memorial day? who even does that shit?) after having met on....the internet.

and speaking of which, dating online, this was suggested to me by an old friend. she said you could tell a lot about a person's character by how well they can construct a sentence. and based on this could make an educated guess as whether it would be worthwhile to commit to an entire dinner. just make sure that they pay for it.

so i'm sitting here drinking my hot tea with no milk because i'm still feeling sick and milk makes it worse and i'm avoiding work because i'm tired of reading about targeted killings and i can't seem to hit on the appropriate framework and i came across this advice (?) article via yahoo. it's about how to make other people know that YOU are a catch. and it totally relates to what i was mentioning in the previous post. about how sometimes it's better not to be listening...

this is suggestion number 1:

1. Whatever you’re passionate about. Maybe it’s your love of art and culture. Or history. Or tropical bird-watching. Anything, in fact, except celebrities and what’s on TV. You want to show that you do things in your spare time that enrich you as a person, not just sit on the sofa with Us Weekly. And even if you and your date are both super into celebrity gossip, it’s hardly a unique trait to build a relationship on. Spend those early dates getting to know the important facts about each other; specifically, the passions that make each of you tick and distinguish you from the other single folk out there.

Sample segue: “I liked The Book of Eli because it got people talking about the Bible, which isn’t true of most popular movies! I’m one of those people who loves getting into a literary discussion of the Bible — how about you?”

let me just point a couple of things out. first, how exactly does this separate the speaker from someone that sits on the sofa with usweekly? i mean, the ONLY place you would read about that movie is in people or the like. no one i know even saw it. and second, any random piece of celebrity gossip is more interesting than that statement. even played-out britney gossip or who alex rodriguez is dating now (seriously, the only reason i even know of him is because he supposedly slept with madonna) is more interesting than that comment. and third, on the off chance that i was listening when the above comment was made, i would probably just get up and walk out.

and anyway, anyone with half a brain can apply a biblical analysis to any movie. it doesn't have to be actually about the bible. because all the bible is really, is this sort of archetypal allegory. it's like marxism or feminism. you can apply it to anything and make yourself look smart. everyone knows that. and, if you chose to go that route with me, you had better know your shit. because i do. just ask the guy who quoted (incorrectly) simone de beauvoir to me at the bar. that night ended in me walking out. however, i was drunk enough to have given him my phone number and he called for days. he would have been better off not talking at all.

but, if you read closely, the article suggests only that you say that you like conversation, not that you actually have it. apparently, it's enough to just suggest that you could discuss things.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


i went to see my psychic today. actually, i shouldn't call her a psychic. not that she doesn't have the gift, i just hate that word. she's more of an intuitive reader, if that phrase is any better. my analyst referred to her as a fortune teller once, and i feigned indignation and was all like 'spiritual advisor, please.' and immediately burst out laughing at his serious look as he thought that he had really offended me. it is actually very hard to offend me and my analyst can be quite serious, so sometimes i like to tease him. as i do with all serious people.

anyway. so i went to get a reading and we were talking about love or lack thereof and then she pretty much called me out for failing to be fully present in my interpersonal interaction. she asked me if when people were talking to me was i thinking about other things.

only all the fucking time. but the thing is that if i were fully listening when most guys were talking to me, i would be bored to fucking death. and as tb was telling me the other night, people can visibly feel when i'm not into them. apparently i have not so subtle body language and vibe.

and my mind is always working. always. so unless i am talking to someone extremely interesting, then i am thinking about other things. things i read. things i want to read. the different parts of models (formal models, not fashion models).

she told me that if put as much work into relationships as i do into my work, that i wouldn't be alone anymore.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

boba is the new blow

a few weeks ago someone took me for chinese food. this particular restaurant also had bubble tea, which i hadn't had in forever.

apparently i forgot how much i liked it. the way it feels in your mouth all squishy and sweet and starchy. and now i can't get enough. i have an all-consuming desire for it.

i was at boba tea house just yesterday(where the girl knows me by name) and whole i was standing in line all i could think about was the satisfaction that i was going to feel when the boba was in my mouth. i was watching people enjoy their boba in envy, salivating in anticipation. the ritual of inverting the cup to disperse the boba before puncturing the plastic covering with the pointy straw.

i have an addictive personality. that's what i realized. it's true what they say, a junkie is a junkie 3-6-5. my whole life centers around the satisfaction of desire. the desire to fill the part of me that feel lacking. and so i give into myself.

nowadays it's mostly harmless things. going to see the psychic. boba tea. the occasional cigarette. seriously. i don't smoke that much and i will not give them up. not now. not ever.

my only concern with bubble tea is the sugar, but i came home and weighed myself and my weight is down since yesterday and at an acceptable's ok. between a size 4-6 is not fat. this is my new mantra. because i just don't think i have it in me to lose 10-20 more pounds.

i'm walking out the door now to boba tea house now...

i went to get the boba. the girl who knows my name totally outed me, "you're, like, addicted to boba!!!" she said. i laughed nervously. "that's ok," she said, "it's just boba. at least it's not alcohol."

Friday, May 20, 2011

it ain't me babe

last night i met one of the great (living) american novelists. and he turned out to be quite charming. if i sound slightly surprised, it's because i was.

when i learned (via twitter of all places) that bret easton ellis was making what he claimed was his last bookstore appearance EVER (in the u.s.), i thought perhaps i should go. only perhaps, because if there's one thing i've learned from dating artists it's that sometimes it is best to keep the art separate from the person creating it. and that artists aren't necessarily any more interesting or intelligent than ordinary people, just more narcissistic. so two things. but the point is that when i meet an artist and start to get a sense of them as a person, it can really fuck up how i perceive their work. so sometimes separation is good.

the other reason why only perhaps was that the bookstore at which he was reading is in los feliz. which, to me, is the most overbearing neighborhood in LA. like a million times worse than beverly hills (where i actually love to go). the people are unbearable. when you think about LA and your mind is inundated with visions of self-important, talentless hipsters who move here on their parents' dime to try to make it in the industry (as in entertainment), this is where they congregate.

so there are a lot of great bars and good restaurants, but the conversation is really shitty.

it's a lot of 20 somethings all trying to outdo each other in terms of how poor they can look, as if a lack of taste as evidenced through thrift store clothes can legitimate you as an artist. think blanche devereaux tops/dresses and skinny jeans and vests and ugly shoes. in reality, this kids don't know the first thing about being poor or having to actually work seeing as how their parents are obviously footing the bill. i know this because i know that there is no way that their customer service day jobs could ever pay for their silver lake rent and their acting classes that they are chattering on about.

then there were the aging hipsters who were talking in intentionally elevated voices about how the hadn't read 'american psycho' in, oh, twenty years, before most of the people there were born, apparently not realizing that stating this fact aloud didn't make them seem special, just old. so tragic.

it was a fabulous scene, but i digress. this isn't even the interesting part of the story.

when i got to the bookstore, it was still early. the only people there were some really awkward guys who seemed to be creative writing students. i sat there reading the copy of 'imperial bedrooms,' i had just purchased. i realized that i hadn't opened a novel in almost four years.

as the room filled with writers and hipsters and the like, i also realized that i was the least artistically creative person in the room. or at least one of the only people there that didn't at least attempt to engage in the artistic process. although, i would say that game theoretic models are the closest thing to art that my discipline has, i don't feel that anyone there would have gotten that.

and also i started to feel a massive amount of anxiety. i hate being in a room full of people. especially these fucking narcissists. it sucks the life out of me. the only thing that brought me relief, albeit temporarily, was the fact that i sat in the very front row. i sat here for two reasons. first, i can't see very well. and second, i wanted to see the author and the back off someone's awful haircut.

but the front row filled last. this is totally an LA thing. people love to look at other people, but they hate being looked at. even though they try to make it as hard as they can for you to look away, they are the most self-conscious people on the planet.

so bret easton ellis was running late. and i was considering running for the door and calling my friend w. and going to have that drink we were going to have after the reading. not because i care about the lateness, but because i could feel a panic attack coming on. but i would have had to get through the what was now a sizable mass of people and as i was contemplating this, the author showed.

he just kind of walked straight to the podium in a very hurried way. he paused, looked at the audience and sighed really disparagingly. he took out a really old copy of 'less than zero' and read the first page. and his hands were shaking.

hearing him read from this particular book was absolutely not what i was expecting, but still was one of the most beautiful things i've ever heard. maybe the most beautiful. the way it was read was exactly the way i had always imagined it would sound.

it was the only thing he read. but it was more than enough. he didn't read from the new book. he said it was just too painful.

instead he just took questions from the audience. the questions were mostly unimaginative, but i very much enjoyed hearing him speak.

i didn't ask anything.

but here's the best part of the story...

when i went to get my book signed, our conversation went like this...

BE-E (putting his glasses on and sort of peering at me): don't i know you?
me (totally thrown off and not sure if i heard him correctly): sorry?
BE-E: um, i mean we've met before somewhere right? i feel like i know you from somewhere else....
me: no, i'm sorry. we...haven't.
BE-E: really? um...i mean i guess you do so many of these things and sometimes people look familiar and...
me: no...i...i'm sure of it. was really great. thank you.
BE-E (looking right at me): thanks. thank you so much for coming.

and he sounded completely genuine. i was so thrown off that my book isn't even signed to me. it's just signed. i wished that i could have thought of something smart to say. but i couldn't. maybe it's a better story that way.

he was exceptionally charming.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

mommy dearest

i called my mother to tell her thanks for having me. although, i don't know that her having me matters all that much. in the grand scheme of things that is. i don't say that to be depressing. it is what it is. i just don't really feel like i have a purpose right now. i am totally in this satisficing phase.

and the next person that wishes ME a happy mothers day is getting an earful. or at least a scathing look. so far i've let it go. the assumption that because i'm in my early 30's i must have some kids because that's what women do.

dig this conversation from the coffee shopt this AM, between me and this weathered old ex-con (seriously, he was rocking prison tats):

him: happy mothers day, ma'am.
me: [blank stare]
him: do ya got kids?
me: no.
him: [condescending/pitying look] yeah...well...i guess have a good day anyway.

i have a lot of love in my heart. and despite my selfish ways, of which there are many, i think i would be a good mother. mostly because children are the ultimate vanity project. sadly, i have only met two people who i would actually be willing to bring life into this world with. two people. in my whole life. that sort of constricts my options.

on a more uplifting note, it was upon the birth of my niece that i realized what true love was. it was then that i was struck by how much you could love someone that you didn't even know. and i realized that it doesn't matter what kind of person that she turns out to be. she is loved anyway. end of story. at least by us, she is.

i've only felt that kind of love once in my life. the kind which transcends any temporary action that the other person takes in favor of the larger picture. it has brought me more pain that i have ever felt. it also brings me hope that i can feel it again. for someone that feels it back. or at least, that can show me they feel it back.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

ooohhh, you sneaky fucking russians...

here's some cold war era game theory:

we have three different antiaircraft defense systems A1, A2, and A3, only one of which we can use. our opponent has three different airplanes B1, B2, and B3, only one of which he can use. our goal is to shoot down the airplane, our opponent's aim is to get his airplane through unharmed...

straight from russia with love.

remember the innocuous number matching game that all the game theory books love to use as an illustrative example? well this is how they played behind the iron curtain, bitches. so man up, throw back some vodka and hope you picked the right defense system. lest america blind you with the light of democratic enlightenment/freedom.

the above game came from a book published during the 1960's as part of series to bring math to the people. apparently they didn't just want people to understand strategy, they wanted them to live that shit.

and while i'm not sure why it ever got published in english, i am sure that it is one of the best introductions to game theory i have read.

and to my reader in the russian federation, please don't be offended. or stop reading. i love russians. i just wanted to make some cold war humor.

and to all my readers, feel free to comment.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

one hundred million years of solitude

because i have to take it to the extreme.

i've been trying to go out as much as possible lately. with anyone. to anywhere. to do anything.

ok. so "with anyone' is a stretch. but, as i told my analyst, i think that right now i would even be willing to date a republican. i'll try anything if it will make me forget the other. it isn't that i want to forget them. or that i even could, if i tried.

but...they left me no choice. i've reached and reached and reached out. i hope they come back, but i can't sit waiting. i don't want to go all miss havisham.

i want to not miss them. the problem is that no matter who i go out, i feel nothing. and i'm terrible at going through the motions. at least it feels terrible. i still try though. as george michael said, all we have to do now is take these lies and make them true. somehow.

maybe intense emotions are not the truth. maybe it is supposed to be boring. maybe.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

where everybody is somebody (L dot A dot)

my analyst appointment was cancelled last week, so i missed my weekly trek to los angeles, in which time i somehow forgot how lovely it there. i honestly think that LA is paradise on earth. if such a thing could even exist.

it was SUCH a nice day. i sat outside at a coffee shop and worked. my favorite thing about that particular location is that is right next to a dog daycare. if you go around 5, then you get to see all of the dogs being picked up. that is one of my favorite things. that might sound totally lame, but the dogs are so happy to see their families that it makes me happy. there isn't anything that isn't great about dogs. they are love incarnate. i miss that, since i had to leave my dog with my parents.

i went and ate thai bbq. at my favorite place. the sauce there is like no other. i would describe it, but it defies explanation. even for me. it doesn't taste like anything i've had ever.

i drove down hollywood blvd. i don't care what anyone says. this is my absolute favorite part of LA. it's just so gaudy and over the top. i love it.

all of this made up for my morning, which was ok, but i had a kind of awkward moment. someone asked me to count a room full of people. and i panicked. this is so hard for me to do. i can't explain very well why it is so hard. my brain just can't handle spatial things like that. and groupings. it overwhelms me. i counted like five times and i kept getting different numbers. until finally i saw the pattern.

i know it sounds lame, but it's really embarrassing and stressful that a simple task could be so hard. and it's worse when it's in front of someone you work for. someone you definitely don't want to appear incompetent in front you can't count or something. or you are incapable of performing a simple task.

luckily this persons understands. or has enough good manners to pretend that they do, so i didn't feel intellectually disadvantaged. i explained and they were just like "i can't do it very well either. that's why i asked you to count too."

and that was my day.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

the girl who loved only numbers

apparently it is me.

i would rather work on my calculus exercises than read anthropology articles. i would rather look at equations than write about institutions. i would rather let my mind be consumed by an endless string of factors and vectors and coordinates and to sit for hours trying to get my brain to overcome its natural resistance to the numerical representation of life than to think about my actual life.

it's comforting.

i never understood math before. truthfully, i don't understand it now. i am only trying to improve myself. so that i don't have to skip over derivatives/notation and assume that the words written on the page are indicative of the true meaning. because unless you know, you can never be sure. and when it comes down to it, you can't trust anyone. and even with statistics (which i still see as the lamest form of math), if you don't know what's going on behind stata, then you really don't know anything.

to my surprise, i can actually do more than i thought i would be able to given that i've pretty much failed any math class i've ever taken. i can even tell you about the equation above. i just double checked it. in my head. no. for real. the only part i don't get is the last step. i don't know where the h went. but i'm sure i could figure it out if i thought for a minute. it was only intended to be an illustrative example, after all, and i still did it quickly in my head.

the difference between now and the past is that no one is forcing me to do it. no one even suggested that i do it. i just decided to. because unless i retrain my brain i will not be able to take what is going on inside of it and make it something that other people can see.

and interpersonal interactions with other people lately have been really disastrous. ok...that's an overstatement. actually they have been the same as they ever were. i have been trying to keep myself open to people and not let what happened to me over the past year, how much i was hurt, to keep me from trying. despite everything, i have this childish idea that love exists and that you can find someone to share your life with that accepts you for who you are and will let you love them and that will love you back. mostly i hold on to the belief, albeit foolishly, that this can happen for me. after everything and even though it only brings me the constant pain of disappointment, i still believe in love.

but rejection hurts. and it seems that no matter where i look, no matter who i interact with, there it is. and what hurts more is knowing that i don't want the person doing the rejection to want me. the truth is i could care less about them. what i want is that other, THE other, back. because as much as i try not to hold onto that experience, i know that the way i felt about them, the way that i felt with them, was different than the way i've ever felt about anyone else.

see? numbers don't do this to you. with numbers you are in control. it might take a while to get them where you want, but they are yours.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

holding everything else constant

i feel like i've said this phrase a thousand times this week. scientific method and what not.

holding everything else constant in my own life....i still miss the other. very, very much so. i try not to think about it. that's why i don't write about it here. and i don't talk about it to anyone. not even my therapist.

most of the time i'm quite successful at avoidance.

i've been throwing myself into work. i find countless things to occupy my mind. i do math every morning. so that i can understand what i need to understand. i read the things i need to read. and other things besides.

but sometimes it really, really hits me. that i miss someone so much. and there's nothing i can do about it. the other morning i cried before i went to work. which made my voice sound weird. even though i wasn't crying at work (obviously), as i'm not a big fan of bringing your drama with you to the office. when i went in to ask the person i work for a question, he looked at me for a second, and asked "what's going on? are you all right?" and i wasn't sure what he meant. and he was like "your voice..."


that was the answer i gave. which i felt sounded much better than, "well. as much as i pretend that everything is ok, i foolishly got caught up in emotion and had my feelings crushingly hurt by someone that i trusted implicitly. which had more implications for my life than can be discussed in good taste. and regardless of the pain they caused me (and the fact that everyone i know thinks that this person is a sociopath), i still feel only love for them and sadness that they are gone. there isn't one thing i wouldn't do to change what happened, as nothing and no one can replace what i have lost. and so if my voice sounds funny, it's because i was crying this morning. and also because of the cigarettes i chain smoked last night while i was drinking red wine alone and NOT thinking of them."

no. i couldn't very well say that to someone who is, quite possibly, the most scientific person i know.

instead i just talked about pollen in the air and described my watery eyes. he looked at me very seriously and said "yes. those are allergies."

yes. they are.

Monday, April 18, 2011

if slaughterhouses were glasshouses...

today for sociology we watched a film about a horticultural society in papua new guinea (i think). in the film they killed pigs. they held them, shot them with an arrow, and then released them. then the pigs ran a few paces and dropped convulsing to the ground.

the pigs were screaming the whole time. until they expired.

the screams were horrifying.

i'm ok with the shooting. i was even ok once the pigs had died and they started skinning them and chopping them up.

i was not ok with the screams. apparently i wasn't the only one looking horrified, because the professor observed that "it's much nicer at the grocery store when it's all wrapped in plastic, isn't it?"

it is.

all i could think of was the bacon in my fridge. and the association between that delicious bacon and the screams.

the only other thing i could think about was my own sadness over certain things that have happened. which i have been trying to avoid talking about on here. or anywhere else for that matter. the only thing i've been doing is working. which has helped. but...still. sometimes it hits me that i miss someone terribly.

and like diana ross said, there ain't nothing i can do about it.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

iheart you, imac

you are so beautiful in my living room. you are so fast. and so wonderful.

and did i mention beautiful?

yes. i broke down last quarter and bought an imac. they were on sale. it was one of the things i bought when i was trying to soothe my overly saddened soul with purchases. HOWEVER, given my unfortunate luck with laptops, i thought it might be best to invest in something reliable. so it wasn't entirely self-indulgent.

it sat unused for two months. although, i should point out that it sat unused on its very own ornate, antique table. in front of my paintings.

much like the ipod, i was very intimidated by it. i've never had a mac. it makes weird noises. i don't know what it's saying to me. we don't speak the same language.

but i am learning. slowly. but i am trying.

i feel that now i need the macbook. having the imac at home and the asus laptop is like trying to keep two boyfriends happy. two completely opposite boyfriends.

it is making me schizophrenic. and also...i really like macbooks.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

it defies explanation

i had to see this and do you.

i've seen a lot of sexually disturbing things in my time. flashers. fetish porn. street corner hookers. strip clubs in memphis. the red light district in amsterdam.

but this picture...might take the cake in terms of sheer creepiness. it's just SO dirty. i can't stop looking at it. there's nothing about it that is even remotely ok. it's making me feel wrong.

just look at their expressions....


french manicure...polished elegance or 1970's porno nails?

i can't decide.

usually, i just go with clear polish. no red or wild colors for me. i have just been waiting for my nails to be long enough to get frenchified.

i love the way they look, but i keep thinking of those old ass lee press on nails that i used to see at the store as a child. which for some reason i associate with sex workers. not that there's anything wrong with's just there's a time and a place for everything. work might not be the place to inadvertently activate the collective memory of the golden age of porn.

and now i understand when women say things like 'could you just ___ for me. i just got my nails done.' i used to hate that. but now i see that you have to be careful. they are fragile, especially if they are your actual nails, as mine are. AND the polish is so malleable. you HAVE to let them dry in front of the fan at the salon. or you're fucked. you get a chip or an uneven place. which kills the whole effect. i have no patience, so i tried to get up prematurely. the woman that does my nails was like "they dry already?" and i was like "um...." and she was like "you sit." and i did. they are very authoritarian at this place.

which is maybe kind of why i like going there. even though, truth be told, i could probably get a better manicure somewhere else. but getting my nails done is a total exercise in trust for me. my fingers and cuticle areas are are so super sensitive. and if the person doing your nails isn't careful they can really hurt you with those sharp scissors. i cringe just thinking about it.

i also cringe every time i have to type. which is like all day. nails make typing a totally frustrating activity. i keep making stupid typos. and i have to hold my hands a certain way.

but the totally satisfying "clickyclickyclicky" sound my nails when i tap them more than makes up for that.

having a good manicure sends a very clear and very strong signal to others. like matching lingerie, it lets them know that there is no detail too small that you would overlook it. that you are on top of everything, all the time.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

words to live by...

I used to have a friend like Jenny. I made all these sacrifices and you know what I got back on that investment? Zero. Because girls like her run emotional Ponzi schemes. Jenny will never like you the way you like her.

i know that parents hate 'gossip girl'. as would i, if i were raising a high school aged child. but....when you're right, you're right. and this statement is, in many was, the absolute truth. some people are simply sociopaths. i've never believed that in the past. i don't want to believe it now. i'm just considering all options.

this past year has really shaken the way that i think about other people. about intentions. about relationships. about friendship. i've seen things that i once thought were impossible, things that if someone had told me a year or two ago i would have completely rejected as things that could never, ever happen.

i don't believe in interpersonal relationships in terms of investments. you don't keep putting in until it's time to collect. there isn't a maturity date. it isn't a securities market, this is about human beings. but it's also supposed to be mutual, right?

i need to stop just feeling with my heart. and start being smarter. i need to look at all sides instead of just blindly following my feelings and believing the best about people even when every piece of evidence points to the contrary. i know that. it's just...really hard. i feel things so deeply and that means i care very intensely for people and things that matter to me.

but sometimes at great personal expense to myself. i hate the way i am so much. if i could have one wish, i think it would be not to feel anymore. to completely change my nature so that i don't feel so much. so that i don't care.

Monday, March 28, 2011

suffering succulent

i think i've talked about my dying(?) succulent before. i say 'dying (?)' because i thought it was gone for sure, but i think it might stick around.

what had happened was morning i went to check on it and found that underneath the top layer of absorbent rock the soil was moldy. i felt horrible. i had been doing my absolute best to keep it alive. i thought it needed water. i thought it was dried out. but i was actually killing it.

so i went to the nursery. i bought a proper pot (it was still in the plastic one) and cacti/succulent soil. and re-potted it with two other succulent plants. i took it out of the mold dirt and washed the roots.

i thought it was dying a slow death. i took drastic measures aimed at regeneration based on things i read on the internet. i cut the top off from the main stalk, which i think was diseased. i put the shortened end back in the soil.

i have just been waiting for it to go.

however, if you look very closely in the center of the plant are new leaves. tiny, yet perfectly formed new leaves. this gives me hope that it can be beautiful again. the way that it was before i almost killed it.

i could have thrown it away. that's the thing. it wasn't an expensive plant. or the best one. or anything like that. i could have simply bought a new one.

but i couldn't do it. i just couldn't.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

i realize that the sounds associated with the female orgasm might be scary if you've never heard them before...

but i don't really see what the big deal is. serena williams is massively hot. so is the other chick. and let's be real. this is by far the raunchiest thing in advertising. at least these girls are in shape.

Friday, March 25, 2011

i met my soul mate...he was a total asshole.

this is what my psychic told me today. about her, not me. i always ask about love.

i was like 'but...i thought when you met your SOUL MATE everything was perfect and you were in love and everything worked perfectly and you were together forever...and...and...'

shaking her head, she looked at me like i was crazy.

"no," she said, "they can be mean as shit. and it hurts you more, because you have that connection. the sex is the best sex you'll ever have, but they'll hurt you more than anyone else you've ever met. and it doesn't stop hurting."

this was a side of soul mate that no one ever tells you. i still don't know if i can believe that soul mates actually exist, but it sounds way more plausible the way she described it.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

things of beauty and the joy they bring

i re-potted all the plants.

ok, so the joy might have been a function of ativan + red wine...but hey, i'm on vacation. and what's vacation without a little red wine mixed with sedatives in the afternoon?

the re-potting was one of my goals for the week. i went to the nursery this morning to get the pots. and the soil. but as usual, my inability to gauge spatial parameters meant that i bought a pot that was too small to pot all of the herbs in. so as you can see below, i could only fit the basil, orange mint, and thyme in the pot. which leaves the rosemary and the oregano without a real home for the moment.

i also bought some thai basil. i even got a special pot to put it in.

you can see how beautiful they are....and delicious too...

and now for the tale of my succulent...
in the hopes of saving it i had to take drastic measures. supposedly, you can grow new plants from the leaves. and you can also sever the top from the main stem, if the stem has gone bad.

it is very important to me that this one lives. so i did what i thought i must.

i hope it works.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

right up there with elizabeth taylor (when it comes to suffering)

goodbye, elizabeth taylor.

i prefer to remember her as she was. although, to be honest, she looked fantastic through her early 70's. and also, i think the press posted really bad pictures of her on purpose. the fact remains that no one in hollywood now comes anywhere close to her in style or beauty. they just don't.

i love liz because, well, obviously she's super beautiful. but i also admire her tenacity in personal matters. she just never gave up on the idea of love. a divorcee at 18. married eight times total. she even married the same person twice.

and it took its toll.

"You don't get over men like the flu," she said.

ain't that the fucking truth.

i wish i could be more like her. in the face of emotional pain, i just close off. i block people out. as scared as i was a year ago of feeling anything, it's twice as bad now. it's no one's fault. it's just the way i am. now when people tell the things i want to hear, i just nod and smile and know that...there's no point.

i want to believe in love so badly. i have for years, but i just don't know anymore. this past year might have been too much for me. it's made me question not only other people, but myself. myself most of all.

and still. if i had to do it all again, i would do no differently. even though perhaps i should have been smarter. perhaps i should have been more careful. perhaps trusting anyone that implicitly is a mistake.

and still...the only thing i feel is love. i'm not angry. and i don't hate them. all these things were issues that i had before i even met the last other. i don't blame them. i just wish we could talk again. there's a small part of me that i don't think shall ever stop missing them. i don't think that i shall ever not hope to hear from them. no matter who i meet or where i go.

i don't think that it makes me a bad person. or a weak person. just a person who feels too much. a tragic person, maybe. a liz taylor, maybe.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

it's all happening

the supermoon, that is.

this means that the earth will be the closest it has been to the earth in 18 years. or something. because the moon is my ruling celestial body, this means that super cancer is is effect.

i feel very sentimental. i need a hug. and a break. and i wish i had something interesting to write about, but i don't. just myself.

i have decided to accept my cancer nature, rather than just feel bad about it. love and empathy are the most important things in this life. other than money, that is.

my gift is feeling. my gift is being able to love. i just wish that i could feel it for myself.

i wish it were speed reading. i finished all my work. except for a stack of exams.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

when i said i hoped the end is nigh....

THIS is not what i had in mind. what i had been hoping for, albeit selfishly and unrealistically, was some sort of pain/suffering free apocalypse.

now i face being irradiated. and not in the quick vaporization way, but in the slow painful radiation poisoning way. i realize that the scientists are saying 'oh, there's no real danger. the levels are safe.'

to which i say two things:

1. i believe that NO levels of radiation are good for human beings.
2. would you really tell the american public if it wasn't safe? (doubtful)

this is not what i wanted to wake up to today. nuclear holocaust is my ultimate nightmare.

Monday, March 14, 2011

feeling it all

i've been awake for the better part of three days now.

not by choice. but because i've had to be to finish a paper. which turned out awful, because i can't write under pressure. which bums me out because my model was ingenious. i liked it so much that i would never share it online. i even have software that lets me draw out the game tree. so that it looks perfect. i can't play with the structure to make it more aesthetically appealing, but at least the lines are straight and the labels are all there.

just once i would like to turn in something that i'm happy with. something that doesn't plague me after i turn it in. contrary to how it might appear when my papers are read, i'm not a satisficer. it just takes me longer to do things. and then i run out of time. i actually am burdened by the guilt of unrealizable perfection.

i just want to sleep. but i'm too tired. i'm probably going to have to take a sedative. otherwise it's never gonna happen.

i'm too unsettled. i think i'm responding to two things. first is the the massive chaos in the world, specifically in japan. i was sickish and incredibly volatile in the days leading up to the earthquake. i would cry instantaneously. it was the worst feeling. it is because i am, at least partly, clairsentient. which is a fancy word for overly empathetic.

A clairsentient is an empathic person who is able to experience and translate all kinds of energies. When picking up on negative emotions, a clairsentient may feel sick, while a positive experience may feel like sheer joy, or feeling safe and secure. The messages are usually more complicated than that alone, and can be of great assistance when one must make significant decisions in life.

that's me. and also, nuclear holocaust is my worst nightmare. so at this point, it might just be in my head.

this is all exacerbated by the super moon. you already know about that.
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