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What is the force that binds the stars, I wore this mask to hide my scars

April 8th, 2010

In Which Kristina Becomes Acquainted with Mus musculus and Rattus norwegicus. @ 10:23 pm

I spend four days away from work (and little to no school), total bliss.  The three days that follow are chock block full of stuff - 12 hour days, late nights, early mornings, the whole kit.  Argh.

So earlier this week I had my Animal Care days - during the semester, each first year clinical student gets assigned three animal care days - two rodent (mice/rats) days, back to back, and one rabbit day.  To sum it up, you're basically the cleaning person du jour - whether it's as complcated as cage wash (having to load all the mice/rat boxes onto carts and put them through a washer) or as simple as checking the animals and  sweeping & mopping, the majority of the "shift" requires cleaning, and lots of it.  Every surface needs to be cleaned, because when the IACUC (Institutional Animal Care and Usage Committee) comes in to inspect, they check. every. square. fucking. inch.  They run their hands over the tops of door frames.  Look in the corners.  Check the pipes under the sink.  No surface is left unchecked.  To be fair, after two days of cleaning these surfaces, I realized the minimal lines of the room worked in my favor (shelter chic, if you will), and appreciated the absolute absence of dust anywhere - when I did find dirt in hard-to-reach areas, I felt a bizarre giddy surge, knowing I caught something someone had clearly missed for at least a week.

My first day was rather uneventful, but I was terrified.  "What if I fuck up?" "What if I miss a step?" "What if I do something to harm the animals??" (inadvertently, of course, but tiny animals are fragile!)  I rode the bus there, and felt butterflies in my stomach, like I was heading to a first date. 

A date, people.  I WAS CLEANING UP MOUSE POOP.  Got there at 7.30, ate my breakfast, went into the lab clutching my SOPs for dear life, ducked past the second years (who were already hard at work with the dogs and cats) and stood around in the rodent room for a few minutes, looking everyone over.  Here I was, terrified, and they barely even knew/cared I was there - most of them were sleeping, or curled up inside their little hutches cleaning each other.  It took me forever and a day to get into a groove and figure out how to go down the line of the SOPs - first you have to complete the "All Animal" SOPs (SOP = Standard Operating Procedures, it's basically just a manual that outlines EVERY LITTLE STEP SO YOU DON'T PAINFULLY FUCK IT UP), then complete the "Rodent" SOPs.  After awhile I realized two important things : 1. Doing all the things in the "All Animals" SOP, then moving back to "Rodents" wastes alot time, and 2. a bunch of things in the "All Animals" SOP are actually done by the second year students (e.g. flushing the water system, mopping outside floors, etc).  Womp womp.  Good for me, actually, but tough on the second years.  As one girl (second year of course) said, "You only have the rodents room to worry about."  Thank god.

So i left around 10.15 - overall, it took me about 2 and a half hours to complete my animal care.  "Not bad", I thought, "but it'll take me even less time tomorrow, since I've got everything in place now.  Hell, I'll get there earlier, around 7, and that way I'll be done by 9 at the latest."

That would've worked, except Tuesday, according to "Rodents" SOP, is water bottle/sipper tube/enrichment devices cleaning day.  Every last one of these items being used had to be removed, scrubbed, and replaced in the cages.  I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of opening 50+ rodent water bottles, but if you haven't, let me save you the trouble of obtaining 50+ water bottles to try it out on - IT HURTS.  These aren't your regular pet store screw cap water bottles.  These are rubber-stopper-whose-edges-have-been-chewed-slantways-so-it's-gonna-be-a-pain-in-the-ass-to-remove-and-give-you-blisters-on-your-fingertips kinds of bottles.  Fifty of them, people.  Ugh.  I wanted to kill someone.  I had to become resourceful, and learned that a regular ballpoint pen works marvelously at easing up the edges.  Especially the narrow, thin rubber stoppers (which look nicer, especially in glass bottles, but are a mother and a half to remove compared to the short squat ones).

Oh - and then I had to clean 100+ enrichment devices.  These are any object we put in their cages to keep them occupied/make them happy/prevent them from killing each other.  In this case, each cage has one little hut (or one giant plastic box, for the rats) and a hard plastic chewing stick.  And every one has to be scrubbed and dried, then placed back in a cage.  I am SO lucky that one guy came in around 8 or so to watch me/help me out - he's doing animal care tomorrow and saturday, so he wanted to get a feel for it all.  We're allowed to have someone help us out for a little bit, so I recruited him to just help me with the basics to make the jobs go faster (place the clean water bottles as I filled them up, pull the enrichment devices out and put them in the sink as I scrubbed, and dry them off).  Even with him helping me, I still wasn't done with animal care until 11.45.  The cutoff time for animal care is 12 noon.  So basically, I got there earlier, KNEW what I was doing, and still managed to take almost 5 hours in doing it (and almost ran over my time limit).  I'm just glad it's over - rabbits isn't for another two months (June 6th), and it's the day before the end of the semester, so I'll probably be alot more experienced before it's all over and done with.

Had lab today.  I still feel like I'm lagging behind, and yet I know that I'm getting done what I need to get done - I've become a pro at IP (intra-peritoneal injection i.e. abdominal), was able to do a SQ for the first time (subcutaneous, in the neck skin), and a retro-orbital bleed (which wasn't as hard or as awful as I thought it would be, considering you're sticking a glass tube behind the mouse's eye and collecting blood by twisting the tube and breaking the capillary sinus).  Unfortunately, two mice died - one from complications due to the ketamine/xylazine (body couldnt handle it, and he basically just went to sleep and never woke up) and one mouse was from a previous lab and had fallen ill (professor said it was due to bad gavage technique, where you take a metal tube and slide it down the esophagus into the stomach, to dispense liquid).  The second mouse was euthanized humanely, and necropsy was performed, which was amazing - last time I got to really look at the internals of an animal was a cat, and that was this time last year.  While the cat is good and gives you a large area to work with, it's preserved in formalin, so it's not fresh.  This mouse necropsy was fresh fresh.  Like, she started cutting 5 minutes after it was euthanized.  It was amazing seeing everything so clean and....proper....like, the way it should look, not the way a dissection animal looks - When animals are "created" for dissection purposes, they're bled out and the veins/arteries pumped with blue/red material that solidifies to a hard putty-like consistency.  Great for quick and easy identification of say, the vena cava versus the aorta, but it makes things kinda gross, especially if the plastic "bursts" during production, which happens in random spots all over, and you don't know it until you cut in and find these bizarre plastic-y blotches everywhere.  Seeing the real deal, fresh (as it were) was phenomenal.

Quiz afterward, hard as hell considering it was only 20 points.  She gave us an HOUR, and at the end of that hour, 3/4 of the class was still working on it.  I mean, really?  It wasn't *hard*, per se, but it was three pages, one of which was all dosage calculations.  And I forgot my calculator (doh!).  Some stuff happened afterward and she ended up getting pret-ty mad and blew up at the class for not paying attention and not listening to her.  What I don't understand is that the kids in the class were stunned.  OF COURSE SHE'S GONNA BE MAD!! While she's lecturing, or going over what's going to be on a quiz, or how to do a homework, people are talking!  Not even whispering, full on TALKING!  I'd be mad too - given her personality (no nonsense, tough as nails), I'm surprised she didn't blow her top sooner.  I've been waiting the last couple of weeks for her to lose it, and today was the day.  At the end, she just said, "Ok class is over.  I'm done with you guys" (she was supposed to go over moral and ethical approaches to research technology in the last 10 minutes).  Yikes.  I just hope I don't get lumped in under the title "good for nothing students" - I keep my fool mouth shut, don't ask to borrow a calculator if I've forgotten one, and don't act like an idiot.  Hopefully that'll stick in her head.

March 30th, 2010

Five months. @ 08:21 pm

I can't believe the last time I posted was five months ago.  Seriously, I used to post here 3-4 times a DAY, now I can barely manage 3-4 times a YEAR.

Anyhow, I'm here because I can't really vent anywhere else it seems.  There's only so much I can post to Facebook, and seeing as I'm friends with EVERYONE (coworkers, relatives, etc) on there, when something gets on my nerves, all I can do is post a vague status update and leave it at that.  Blah.

So wow.  Yeah.  A whole lot going on in my life.

So my last post was about me being single.  That has, technically, stayed the same since then.  Sean and I broke up in the beginning of October (about 4 days before that last journal post), but we ended up "getting back together" before the end of the month was through.  Be it the need for affection, or familiarity, or just raw-ass sex, we couldn't even make it a month before we had resumed old habits. 

At first, I felt like I'd never see him in the same light again, since we had broken up and then reconciled - that it would just make things too weird for us to get back to normal.  And I wasn't sure what he wanted, so I just waited to see what would come of it.  Within a week or two, though, it was like old times again, and I felt as if we'd never broken up.Except, ah, technically, we WERE broken up. 

Let me preface this by saying fuck the Facebook revolution, because now it has become the be all and end all.  I think you know what I'm talking about.  Oh that's right - THE RELATIONSHIP STATUS.  Who would have thought the simple words "In a Relationship" or "Single" (or the oft-conveyed "It's Complicated") could bring grown men (and angsty grown women) to their knees?  Not me, sister.  And yet here I am, a crutch to the little words in the left-hand side of my toolbar, tell me day in and day out, reminding me (just in case I lose sight of the fact) that I am single.  Single single single.  Ugh. 

So here I am, busy here having amazing sex with a guy I care deeply about.  Going out to dinner with him.  Holding hands.  Stealing kisses on the train, and when I wake up next to him.  Texting him about the funny things that happen in my day.  But still, I am single, and it just...Doesnt. Feel. Right.  Shouldn't I be "In A Relationship"? Because thats what it feels like to me.  Feels like a relationship.  Yet, whenever the words were on the tip of my tongue, when I would be lying with him with his arm curled around me, I would go so far as to open my mouth, but not let the words come out.  Because, I keep telling myself, this is nothing but temporary.  This is here for me, until something better comes along.  Monogamously single.  Have my cake and eat it too.  But what if you keep eating, and eating, and eating, but you never get full?

I've been doing this since the end of October.  That's five months so far.  To bring this into perspective, Sean and I were together ("In A Relationship", if you will) for just under 11 months.  So basically, we've been at this half-assed hook-up relationship for just about half the length of time we spent actually dating.  Which, in all honesty, is kind of weird and annoying.  I mean, on the one hand, I would think that all of this would have gotten sorted out within the first 2 months of getting back together (meant strictly in the biblical sense, of course).

However (there's always a however), there's something incredibly liberating, if not downright depressing, about being unattached.  I don't have to worry about Sean - I'm absolved of all his bullshit and all the stupid crap he does.  What's that, he lost a bunch of money because he got robbed while he was drunk? Well I'm glad that he's okay, but I'm not gonna scold him - not my problem.  He doesn't text me back because he's still sleeping at 4pm? What the fuck ever - not my problem.  That's the beauty of it - He's NOT my boyfriend, and therefore, things don't sit quite so heavily upon my shoulders.

And yet, I've felt so empty and lost, especially in the last few months.  I've embraced my "single" title a bit tighter now, and am trying to really get out there and find someone else.  I can't deny that part of the reason I've not found anyone else is because I do have Sean to fall back on.  I mean, emotional affection is nice and all, but I'm going to be honest, I'm pretty much in it whole hog for the fucking.  If I wasn't getting fucked I would've said PEACE OUT a long long time ago.  Last time I was single, I went three months without having sex and ended up almost having a nervous breakdown.  Whether I'm a sexual addict or no, I do know this - When I don't get it, I get MAD, so it's for the best (for everyone, really) that I get some regularly.  I can't help but wonder how different things would be if Sean had broken up with me, and just stayed the hell away.  I know that id I had done the breaking up, we would NOT be back together, showing me once more that if I want something done right, I've got to fucking do it myself.  Urgh.

So yes, I've tried to jump back into dating, but it all kind of sucks.  All I do is work and go to school.  I live relatively close to both, so I don't get the chance to venture into the areas of the city that tend to house the guys I'd actually be into.  To explain it for you New Yorkers out there, since this is the only way I can describe it - I live in Astoria, but have school and work in Long Island City and the Upper East Side, respectively.  My kinds of guys tend to hang around the Union Square/Williamsburg scene.  Given where my social/personal center is, it's pretty tough to meet my dream guy. 

I've done OkCupid, but not with much success - went on a date with a guy last week, but it turned out to be a flop.  Plenty of cute guys on the site, but I feel intimidated by them all.  I've gotten so desperate (for just flat out attention, even) that I've been looking at the missed connections section of craigslist, trying to see if any guy has spotted me and fallen in love.  FYI, none has of yet, but if he does (and decides to post it to craigslist), he's probably a lunatic anyhow.

It's funny, that in all of this, this past five months, that all I can think of going on in my life is my relationship woes (I am extremely driven by love/romance, it's sad but true).  I haven't once mentioned anything else outside of such. 

So I'm still living in Astoria.  Still loving my neighborhood, and partaking in what I can.  I got accepted into the clincal phase of the Veterinary Technology program at school (48 students out of a class of 150 got in), so I've been trying to dive headfirst into that.  Still working at my job, they've been giving me more to chew on (more diverse shifts, more responsibilities), which is good also.  No pay raise yet though, dammit (pay freezes took hold in September 2008).

So I can't really complain too much about what's going on with my life - I'm healthy, (relatively) happy, and my life is going in the right direction, and yet I'm not really content right now.  Everything feels so up in the air, and I don't have the stability that I need to keep it all grounded and in perspective.  I don't have that rock, that emotional support system that I crave so much, and it's really kind of depressing.  I've talked with a bunch of people about it, and all of them have told me to quit worrying about it, and to pursue other things, and when I'm up to my eyeballs in work and school, that's when my Mr. Perfect will come along.  I'm a fan of this school of thought - for me, at least, these sorts of things always fall into my life when I'm at my lowest, and when I least expect it.

A watched pot never boils.  But even when I want to take my eyes off it, I can't.  I guess I'm just a nervous person.

October 13th, 2009

(no subject) @ 12:46 pm

So ah, yes.  I am single again.  Been so since Friday evening. 

Each day hurts a little less, but there is no doubting that Ive cried my eyes out almost every night since.  Breaking up is hard, and you'd think that after all the years, the fights, the bad feelings, the mental resolutions (plus the fact that I'm already an embittered lady to deal with), the lessons learned from others, that it would get easier.

But it doesn't.

September 11th, 2009

Windowsills. @ 11:15 pm

I've been loved numerous times in my life - probably on more occasions earlier in my love life rather than more recently.

Got a striking flashback of being in a hotel room almost three years ago, a small CD player sitting on a bed made clean and white, pressed against a window in which I sat with the love of a lifetime, drinking red wine sangria and surrendering my sensibilities.  Calling the cats hanging out on the fire escape, feeling the unseasonably warm November air around us, and being able to lose myself in every second of every moment.

I don't think I've ever been happier.

April 27th, 2009

(no subject) @ 09:58 pm

There's something so precious about the first few days of warm weather, how it always feels like it's never been experienced before.  I've taken to keeping my windows wide open at night and falling asleep to the subtle sounds of insects, distant cars, and mothers hushing children.  I haven't been able to keep my windows open at night with such silence since I lived in Canarsie (upstate doesnt count, upstate is TOO silent, like a tomb), which is probably a good explanation as to why living in Astoria is giving me such constant vivid sensory flashbacks (more auditory and olfactory than visual, really) of being a kid during the summer.  The smell and feel of summer on the air, children playing, people hanging out on front porches and back patios, talking and laughing and barbequeing.

No doubt in my mind, I hated Canarsie when I was a kid there (probably more connected to my mothers control over me, and not necessarily the neighborhood itself), but of course we always remember things in an idealized fashion, and I miss living in an outer borough...I mean REALLY in an outer borough (Brooklyn Heights doesn't count, even if you have your own damn backyard in the middle of midtown, it's just not the same, it smacks of a reverse of Marie Antoinette playing peasant in the gardens of Versailles. 

Soon it'll get insanely hot and muggy, which I'll hate, and ill be complaining all the time (wahoo, lots to look forward to!), but for now, I'm enjoying the cool, hazy but comfy mornings and the gorgeous waterside sunsets by my house.  Life is good.

April 18th, 2009

(no subject) @ 06:57 pm

It's been almost three months since I last posted.  If you couldn't already tell, the three things that were listed in my last post obviously all got completed.  I branched off my cellphone and no longer worry about my mom on my ass (still with Verizon, but my own plan, and I get to use a "student discount" from SVA, so that keeps things cool) and the apartment was kept clean (PRISTINE - I vacuumed it, and it was in better condition than before they left).  Of course those were two very minor tasks that were over and done rather quickly. 

The big thing is that I finally moved out of Chinatown. 

Granted, I've been living here for just over 2 months, so I can't fully explain my tardiness in regards to updating here, but no matter.  Life is good.  I'm still not fully moved out (I own alot of garbage thats still happily living in the basement for now), but the majority of my life's goods are here with me, and thats what's important.  I ended up moving to Astoria, into a decent, clean place with only one (thank god) sane (DOUBLE thank god) roommate for $500 a month, which ain't too shabby.  She tends to keep to herself, as do I, and we keep opposite schedules, so we never see each other.  It's fantastic, and not because shes a bad person, but it's almost like having my own place, which is clutch.  Not too far from the train, safe and nice neighborhood, plus it's retardedly close to the city. What's not to love.

Naturally I've fallen in love with living on my own.  I was originally afraid that one day I'd realize my situation and suddenly break down crying with happiness, but that hasnt happened thankfully.  As it stands, I'm now content with the little things in life that I couldnt do before, like own a plant (having direct sunlight is amazing, plus my grandmother would have thrown out any living thing I brought up to my room, be it animal, vegetable, or mineral), have my boyfriend stay over whenever I want, buying groceries in peace, and knowing that no one's going to judge me about them when I bring them home.  Things like that.

Of course I happened to move in the dead of winter, so I didn't get to really explore the neighborhood - something I'm trying to get into doing now.  I went to Astoria Park the other day and tried to draw.  I say "tried" because I absolutely suck at it now.  It's okay, I got frustrated, but I have to keep remembering that it's going to take baby steps to get back on track and "relearn" how to draw again (my issue is perspective now, how odd).  Something I learned from (my many years of) art school - if you so much as stop drawing for a month or two, you get rusty.  Now imagine giving it a two year break and think about what that would turn your skills into.  Anyhow, baby steps.  I got inspired from a coworker I went to lunch with the other day - she was an english major in college and loved to read, but for two years after she graduated, she couldnt read anything but Cosmo because she'd gotten so burned out from school.  Now she says shes back on track and reads two books at a time (one heavy, one light) so she doesn't get back into a rut of not reading, or letting a book "go" and never finishing it.  I dunno, thinking about that made me realize that I've been missing the feeling of drawing more and more, and that I'd like to get back on the horse before I fall of completely.

Hmm - other than that, not much really going on.  Still in school (part-time, due to my class requirements and oddities), still working (part time, but long ass hours...actually having to pay rent SUCKS), still seeing Sean (and adoring him muchly).  I dunno - my life is going pretty well, any complaints I have don't really stay around for long.

Hopefully I can upkeep on this journal a little bit more - considering it's been THREE MONTHS since I updated, that shouldnt be such a tall order.

January 12th, 2009

(no subject) @ 04:41 am

So my life has taken some interesting turns in the past couple of weeks.  Note: interesting.  Not bad, or traumatic, or negative (probably far from such), but just "interesting".

A few days before my parents were due to leave for Florida (probably on the 2nd?), I went over to my parents to discuss taking care of the apartment for them while they were gone for the month.  Instead, we got into this heavily emotional one sided conversation (heavy on their part, I did alot of listening and dead facing) about how I wasn't responsible and how I was having ultimatums being put on me.  No yelling, no drama, but some crying on my moms part, concerned looks and tones from my dad, and me just sitting there in the chair facing them, being this weird sort of unemotional "rock" through it all.

Basically, I had three "regulations" put down on my plate:

1.  I need to keep the apartment pristine when they are gone

2.  I need to branch my cell phone off of their family plan and onto my own (painless enough)

3.  I need to move out of Chinatown

Regulations Expanded:

1.  This seemed to upset my parents the MOST, especially my mother.  I wasn't too put off by it, but apparently my parents had a whole ginormous discussion about it with each other, because they hate that when they come home, the place is "a pigsty because [I] have no respect".  Granted, I should take care of things better, but this is what they mean by "pigsty": dishes in the drying rack, a bag or two of (clean and folded) laundry by the front door, my towel hanging on the shower rod.  This does NOT mean garbage, papers strewn, bathroom unkempt.

Basically, I have not left the house exactly as it was found, and it infuriates them.  I'm trying not to come across as facetious (though it is tough), I understand since I hate someone coming into my space and moving my crap around (and I cant even yell at them for it), but it's a bit crazed to think that someone (youre related to who youre not paying to maintain the house) is going to come in and not leave a thing out of place.  Basically, if I so much as leave a rubber band on the dining room table, I'm never allowed over there when they're gone ever again.  It's severe, and incredibly neurotic (which my mother has graciously acknowledged, at least). 

At worst, it has made me somewhat neurotic in turn each time I go over, retracing my steps over and over, paranoid of a spoon left out to dry, a magazine on the table, my hairbrush on the counter instead of tucked away in its cubby.  It also makes me realize that I'm a slob partially out of spite for my incredibly anal mother.

2.  Nothing much to explain here.  Aparently, when four phones are on a family plan, and one of those phones never gets used (grandmother), the minutes are still "supposed" to be split the four ways, and I get yelled at for going over my "allloted" minutes (the number of which was never actually given to me).  Last month my parents (who also have a landline) apparently used 16 minutes of the plan, my grandmother 0, and I used somewhere around 150-200. 

This, for some reason, infuriates my mother, which is funny, seeing as, given the breakdown, I should technically get 175 minutes anyhow, since its about 700-800 minutes shared (I repeat SHARED, isnt that the point of a family plan? Basically appx 600 minutes get wasted each month based on this "principle") and technically I dont even think I went over.  Also, in the past I have never caused my parents to have to pay extra for going over in minutes.  It was enough that I received a text from a friend (uninvited) and I replied back, without having a texting plan, and it cost my mom and extra 20 cents that month.  Never heard the end of that one, and I wish I was kidding, but I'm not.  After that my mom set it up so that texts couldnt be received or sent on the phone, so that even if I received an errant text, it wouldnt reach me and charge her.  After all this drama, I'm kind of glad to split off.  When dealing with my mother, "I'll pay you $20 to shut the hell up about this $2 mishap" is always a deliciously appealing prospect.

3.  This subject is actually pretty easy to approach, believe it or not.  I've been feeling this mindset for quite awhile (I have two boxes in my parent's storage room full of books from when I was thinking of moving out in 2004, barely 2 years after moving in), it got a bit worse when I finished SVA, and it suddenly got ALOT worse when I started at LaGuardia again, I think because I felt like I was independant (paying my own tuition, my groceries, working my own crazy hours), yet I was coming home to find my grandmother had been in my room, moving stuff around and being a general annoyance (yes I understand its her house, that doesnt mean it isnt annoying). 

It's a little scary, but it's mostly a huge relief and a weight off my shoulders, since the subject of "when is it time for me to move out?" was never really approached (and I think it should have been), and I always kind of felt like I was lying in wait for something awful to happen that would occur so that I'd be forced out.  Rather, this is a better alternative, and I'm glad to be making this step that should hopefully stabilize me and make me feel more comfortable in my skin (note the whole "perpetually stuck at 17" feeling I've been plagued with for years).  Money may (probably will) become an issue, but it's definitely gotten to the point where the free rent thing isnt worth it anymore, by a long shot.

So I'm probably looking to move to Queens (My heart is in Brooklyn, but due to school and work it's just not convenient for me).  Astoria preferrably, but anywhere with a 24 hour train works for me, more so if that train goes directly to the city (i.e. not the G).  My budget limits me severely, preferrably it's $450-500, $550 if I happen to find an amazing place, $600 for a once-in-a-lifetime, possibly short term rental).  Won't be easy, but that budget is more realistic than I expected, if Craigslist/friends aren't blatantly lying to my face.

And so, my life has taken the "interesting" turn, as of late.  I welcome it, and hopefully (probably) can hold my head above water.


January 4th, 2009

(no subject) @ 08:18 pm

Huh.  Granted, I'm well aware of the old rule "If you can think of it, someone has a fetish for it", but this kind of borderline freaks me out:


It's a lizard fetish (not really a "furry", I guess.  Does "scaley" work?).  More precisely, its a fetish of lizards stomping on things, and lizard feet in general.

I don't know what to say.  I can't even laugh at it or anything.  It kind of depresses me, knowing that outside of watching Jurassic Park and/or asking someone to wear a King Koopa costume, this poor guy's fetish just cant really, truly, FEASIBLY ever be realized.  At least your average sick puppy can just pay some bitch $200 to slap him in the face a bunch and call him a faggot, but where's this guy (or rather, these guys, since its multiple artists) going to ever be able to truly live out his dreams?


December 30th, 2008

(no subject) @ 06:02 pm

I remember this one day, sometime earlier this year (May/June?), I went for this crazy, nutso walk around my parents neighborhood.  At first, I was just going to walk to Borough Hall to catch the train home, but it was a nice, balmy evening, so I decided to keep walking down Court Street...when/where I was planning to hit a train is beyond me, but I know that when my "need to walk" mood strikes me, I need to walk everything out until I'm exhausted/uninterested in walking, otherwise I'm not quite as content as I could be. 

So I walked down Court Street and made a detour onto Smith Street, mostly because it looked kind of neat from a block away, partly because I could catch the F back to the city from there.  I reached a subway station and saw that it was closed due to it being a weekend, and shuttle buses were running in its place.  So I kept walking.  By this point, the sun was on it's way to setting, and I distinctly remember walking down this busy street, a breezy Saturday evening at the beginning of summer, the sidewalk was noisy but calm, vibating with people, the restaurants were full of families and groups of friends, and I felt so alone in the middle of it all.  I remember feeling that all I wanted was to be one of those people having a good time, and feeling this dread and fear that I just couldn't be one of those people.  And I swore that one day, I would fucking march my ass to Smith Street during the summer and go to a restaurant there, and have a good time.  And you know?  I think I just might.

I'm REALLY glad that I'm past that "my life as I know it is over at 23" phase of my life.

December 27th, 2008

(no subject) @ 04:55 pm

Oh huh.  So it's been 34 days since my period...I'm normally a 29-30 day kind of girl, though I err towards being later rather than earlier when I get out of whack, so I'm not TOO freaked.  Still.  Go figure the first month EVER IN MY LIFE that I have a rather high volume sex life is the month my period wants to be late for.  Granted, I feel it coming via deep but low grade cramping (thanks uterus!), and had some close calls (kind of) but still not..entirely sure of my un-knocked-up status.  Blah.

What is the force that binds the stars, I wore this mask to hide my scars