it's all in the lyrics..

i know i mentioned her yesterday, but this song is on repeat in my head today. the lyrics are hitting home for some strange reason.

Love Song by Sara Bareilles

Head under water,
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while.
The breathing gets harder, even I know that.

You made room for me but it’s too soon to see,
If I’m happy in your hands.
I’m unusually hard to hold on to.

Blank stares at blank pages.
No easy way to say this.
You mean well, but you make this hard on me.

I'm not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you asked for it,
'Cause you need one, you see.
I'm not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you tell me it's,
Make or breaking this.
If you’re on your way,
I'm not gonna write you to stay.
If all you have is leaving,
I’m gonna need a better reason to write you a love song today.
Today.

I learned the hard way,
That they all say things you want to hear.
My heavy heart sinks deep down under you,
And your twisted words, your help just hurts.
You are not what I thought you were.
Hello to high and dry.

Convinced me to please you.
Made me think that I need this too.
I’m trying to let you hear me as I am.

I'm not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you asked for it,
'Cause you need one, you see.
I'm not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you tell me it's,
Make or breaking this.
If you’re on your way,
I'm not gonna write you to stay.
If all you have is leaving,
I’m gonna need a better reason to write you a love song today.

Promise me you'll leave the light on,
To help me see with daylight, my guide, gone.
'Cause I believe there's a way you can love me because I say,

I won't write you a love song,
'Cause you asked for it,
'Cause you need one you see.
I'm not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you tell me it's make or breaking this.
Is that why you wanted a love song,
'Cause you asked for it,
'Cause you need one you see.
I’m not gonna write you a love song,
'Cause you tell me it's make or breaking this.
If you’re on your way,
I’m not gonna write you to stay.
If your heart is nowhere in it,
I don’t want it for a minute.
Babe, I’ll walk the seven seas when I believe that there's a reason to,
Write you a love song today.
Today.

....

and really, if i was any kind of a friend, i'd take a picture of myself dancing around my bedroom with these massive headphones on, singing my ASS off.
maybe next time.

i'm not going to write you a love song...

whatever song is playing on the radio is repeating that line over and over again... i like it. according to itunes, her name is sara bareilles... and i'm hooked. great voice.

anyway... yesterday, i did just what i said that i would do. i went home after work, i did laundry, i cleaned, and i cried. it's amazing sometimes that even the simplist things can be so cathartic.

happy holidays

i spent almost the entirety of a holiday party sitting on the floor playing memory and coloring holiday pictures with a five year old little girl yesterday. leave it to me to find the most engaging person at a party and monopolize them in the corner.

as it so happens, i had an amazing time. being five... really? there's nothing better.

happy holidays!!

cuz we're the boys of rock and roll...

i spoke to a friend from seattle on the phone last night, and he was just getting home from taking his kids to the movies - the new chipmunk movie to be exact. and although i outwardly mocked him (just a teense) just going to see it in the first place (such things are obviously excused when you have children), i started thinking about the original chipmunk adventure movie from the 80s... the one that i LOVED as a 10 year old spaz.

i was laying in bed last night singing old chipmunk adventure songs, surfing netflix, and adding that movie to my queue. and then of course i moved it up to the top of the list... because i want to watch it tomorrow or the next day. i'm laughing at myself even now.

how can i remember WORD for WORD some of the songs from this movie, and yet forget so many other things? utterly bizarre.



i guess you know what i'll be doing tomorrow. so so awesome.

the nature of the beast...

oddly enough, one of the major (inside my head) reasons that i wanted to get away from seattle was my discomfort with the general laxness and flakiness of its residents. a very bizarre element of the seattle mellow spirit i suppose, but one that drives me absolutely bonkers.

so it goes without saying, that when i agreed to bring all of my camera gear back to seattle over the holidays and promised to book a few shoots for friends and acquaintances that were in need of my services, i figured that it would be a good way to pay off the cost of going there. as of today, five out of the six paid shoots that i booked have flaked and/or backed out for various reasons. am i pissed off? of course. am i surprised??... obviously not. so i'm sort of just sitting here, shaking my head at my computer screen. it's the nature of the beast, so what did i expect.

i have zero problems with flakiness in new york. where people are sooooo busy and in their own world and have no time to linger over the good things. and yet, when it comes to commitments, they are ON it.

an interesting dynamic, to be sure.

new years resolutions... in advance

arranged a little happy hour action with some girlfriends after work yesterday. we met at bar veloce in chelsea, and sat at the bar. i was determined to unwind from a slightly wretched couple of days at work, and enjoy some delicious fromage e vino. that was several differents languages, but who cares.

i had three glasses of wine. normally, three glasses of wine wouldn't really phase me, but there were/are extenuating circumstances: 1) i drink less than i used to, 2) i hadn't really eaten a whole lot yesterday and 3) i didn't LIKE any of the wine that i was drinking/had been recommended, so i kept ordering more determined to enjoy at least one entire glass. not so much.

i am in a massive pinot noir phase... and have been for a few years. i'll obviously drink other wines, and have been exploring my tolerance of white wines (tolerance OF, meaning enjoyment of, not consumption thank you)... but i'm mostly a pinot drinker. anyway, i kept telling the bartender that i wanted something in the pinot noir range that wasn't oaky or smoky, with not toooo long a finish, and general berry overtones. either their wine list just isn't that awesome, or dude didn't know what he was talking about. he did have lovely eyeglasses though. so he's got that going for him which is nice. regardless, i was beyond tipsy by the time i got home. whoops.

i've decided that i'm going to do a massive alcohol detox after the new year. my body is just ready for it. even the one off glasses of wine aren't necessary... my heart doesn't need it. i can stand to drop a few more pounds anyway, and the ole bod needs all the help it can get. this is about 75% what i've been gearing up to do anyway, but i've just start dating a man who is in the middle of a six month detox, and am now 25% additionally encouraged by the general feedback that he's been giving about the process. so that'll be a good new year's resolution i think.

i'll be in seattle for an 'alter ego' themed new years party, and will officially bring out NINA one more time... and then put her immediately to rest. now i must brainstorm good nina outfits. i love dress up. just saying.

excellent exfoliation

i am 29 years old. for the most, i never get pegged as 29... even from coworkers that usually see the more serious side of me (and yes, thank you very much, i do have one). and i think i know why...

i was just checking to see if any of the salad that i've just eaten ended up in my teeth, and i noticed that the skin on my chin was flaking off...revealing a lovely new layer of fresh skin.

makeouts are the greatest exfoliant... forget anti-aging creams, just give me a good smooch with a man that can grow a beard baby!

what do you do?

what do you do when a man looks you in the face and says that you remind him of a young hot meryl streep and caroline bisset kennedy?

you kiss him... that's what you do.

it's that kind of week...

where i see a ton of movies (apparently)... this is actually fine by me, because i don't have a movie watching partner in crime now that jacob has left new york. now that he's in town, we're seeing our movies.

last night was JUNO:



quite easily one of the most adorably quirky movies that i've ever seen. ellen page is brilliant! go. see. now.

last night my shoulder was attacked by a poltergeist. i have no idea what happened. i'd just gotten back from putting a load of laundry into the washing machine, came back to my room and continued on with the editing of some photos, and all of a sudden my shoulder really started to hurt. sting almost. so i looked over my left shoulder and six evenly spaced cuts appeared on my shoulder... about two inches long each. it hurt sooooo badly, so i grabbed my tubes of whatevers and started figuring out what to put on it because i couldn't find my neosporin. so jacob said that the hydrocortisone was the right choice. wrong. stinging fiasco. wrong choice.

i finally found the neosporin and shelacked myself up with it, but HOW i got the aforementioned injury, the world may never know.

what day of the week is it? i've lost track...

i saw this movie last night:



holy not what i was expecting. and in an attempt to NOT ruin this film for you in any way, i'll just say. wow. and please go see it, so we can talk about it over the weekend. Javier Bardem is genius in his role as a menacing and completely insane murderer.

jacob is in town on his way back to seattle from europe. and after arriving at my house at about 1am from the airport, he proceeded to snore the living BAJEEZUS out of the night. needless to say, i didn't sleep well and am slurping down coffee like it's "insert cheeky metaphor here".

enjoy your day, i have to go make an attempt at planning a holiday lunch for my boss and some coworkers. woot woot!

you would figure..

i mean really, you would figure.

yesterday was an utterly lovely day. i worked out, i took a long shower and even had the presence of mind to take care of myself, i had a healthy lunch, i read an amazing manuscript, i watched sports, i drank tea.

so it stands to reason that 1) i'm so sore in weird places that i can barely raise my arms and walking is a little bit weird right now and 2) that whatever business i was giving myself in the shower yesterday, albeit fantastic, caused me to lean into the tile a little too hard with my forehead and now i've got a bruise and a small bump up near my hairline.

i mean who DOES that... oh yes, that would be me.

blue water woman

my own lady of shalott:



There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

---

random bits:

a male friend emailed to tell me the good news that one of his friends got engaged towards the end of the week. i thought perhaps that we trying to get me a photo gig, but no... he was telling me because the woman was 31, so there was still hope for me. oddly, this did NOT make me feel very good.

i let my roommate talk me into going to 'urban rebounding' class this morning at the gym. basically it's an hour of jumping up and down on mini trampolines and throwing your arms every which way. i'm tall, so i had to keep my knees bent in order to jump smaller and stay on tempo with everyone else. i shant be taking that class again, although a solid workout and i can feel things beginnging to sore already, my back and knees are killing right now from the impact of it all. bygones.

i spent part of my afternoon at my neighbor's place eating black bean chips and delicious salsa while we watched football. i love football. since i was up until three a.m. this morning reading, i excused myself early today because i'm now so tired.

at this moment (well not THIS moment obv), i'm in bed reading a good book, sipping on sleeptime tea, smelling my favorite candle burn, and listening to the gypsy kings. sometimes gentle perfection is easily attained. if you just look within yourself when you're quiet, it is there.

love.

a shmilly bit of shhmistocation...

it's friday, i have zero plans tonight... and to be honest, nothing sounds better. i cannot wait to get home and just relax. i feel like i've squeezed two years into one week... eventhough nothing notable happened. so bizarre.

do ever just get tired? tired of waking up in the morning? i was discussing this topic with pinkangel earlier, so i'm not going to get into it at length again... but at what point do you just get fed up with the half life while trying to be patient for the full life to find you. she suggested that i go out and find it... but you can't find love, and you can't magically create some lovely familial image out of a crockpot (or banged up rice cooker in my case) and secret spices from the cupboard (i only own nutmeg, if you're needing some).

why is it that i get so disturbed by other people leaving newspapers in the public restrooms at work? and by "people", i mean "women"... because that's the restroom that i go into every day. there's always that little receptacle attached the stall door that allows you to dispose of your naughty vittles... but please dont leave your US Weekly in there. how much time are you REALLY spending in there to warrant bringing in the actual mag or paper? i bring W into the bathroom with me at home.. mostly because if i'm in the middle of a good article, i'll want to keep reading even while "divulging" (we'll call it)... but that's at HOME for crying out loud. i do all kinds of things at home that we wont really go in to... but geeeez.

tracy chapman is playing on my itunes channel now... so i'm going to go belt out 'gimme one reason to love you' in my head. of course i'll need to stop typing to you, in order to do that.

what?

sometimes, good things come out of me...

but only sometimes. :)

here's an obviously me maneuver...

the first morning after i launder my sheets is always the hardest for me to get out of bed (secondary only to a mancake sleeping next to me, then forget it... i'm staying in bed and will be late to wherever it is that i'm supposed to be). the clean sheet smell and fluffy comforter combo is just torture. must. hit. snooze. onemoretime!

so this morning, i decided to forego the makeup and fancy hair (like i ever bother with this anymore) and put on a decent work outfit... cream sweater, greenish slacks, i wrap my cream scarf around my neck, grab my jacket, and throw on my uggs - because my brown boots are in the pile of spare shoes under my desk at work.

wrong. this is not true. i took all those shoes home b/c i was having an office cleaning fit. so now, i'm AT WORK, cruising around in my lovely work ensem and sporting... yup, you got it... uggs.

i am the epitome of an envelope pusher. thus far, no one has said anything (which actually almost makes it worse!). haha.

carry on.

there is a sea in me...

there is a sea in me...
deep inside me a giant sea,
only a tiny boat in which to cross.
the oars...hidden,
the wood...weakening,
but made from the stuff of magic.
this boat in me is so small you see,
and comfortably makes passage for one.

there is a sea in me... deep inside me a giant sea,
welcoming of travellers but knowing few.
the water... cold.
the passage... uncertain.
daring the intrepid man to interrupt its waters.
the sea in me seems so vast you see,
resolute, entreating this passage for one.

this last glimmer of hope i see.
a preservation to battle against the sea.
a lifetime of worth and ease.
failing all else,
there is the urge to swim...

in me.

i'm the kind of girl...

(why is it that women have a hard time calling themselves women? at what age do you start to feel comfortable calling yourself WOMAN, instead of girl, lady, gal, or chick? i often wonder when i'll fully own that word, woman... i roll it around in my mouth sometimes, and often almost let it escape my lips, but usually i change it at the last moment and still say girl. why?)

i'm the kind of girl:

* that sets up dates with ex-boyfriends while on vacation home, just to ensure that she has someone to make out with.
* that eats an entire container of hummus for lunch.
* who thinks that sweat is a good and necessary evil.
* that always daydreams about other adventures, and seems to have her head firmly immursed in the clouds.
* always wishes that she'd had a few sisters.
* wants babies but doesn't actually want to give birth. (get on that, science)
* can't help waiting til the last minute.
* has things to accomplish and should just get to it...

and with that... a hearty 'carry on'.

that was such a long break, i should be tan or something...

five days off? i can't even remember the last time that i had five days off. oh yes i do... it was in february for my birthday, which was forever ago. i really am overdue for a vacation, of the tropical persuasion. and pronto.

i just spent the last few days at my friend's parent's house in connecticut... eating great food, drinking wine, playing boardgames, going on hikes, walking on the beach for photo taking, and laughing... a lot. i've never had that much fun at a holiday dinner table in my entire life (sorry family), but it's true. get a bunch of overeducated nerds at a turkey feast and watch the weirdness ensue. so amazing in such a brilliant and wonderful way. i felt sad taking the train back home, and spent the entirety of sunday in bed in my jams... watching movies (blood diamond is brilliant btw).

being back at work today is a little surreal... technically i'm now back on that 'watch what i eat, get in shape before xmas' thing, and i shant be drinking or enjoying monstrous portions until then. but i had to DRAG my toosh out of bed today. why is it always so difficult to go back to work on the monday after a few days off? talk about torture.

happy monday friends... carry on.

added for rachel... the pest!! hehe

sidewalk etiquette you miniature person wielding an umbrella!!

i am from seattle, washington. i don't know if you're aware of this, but it rains there... sometimes. therefore, i am an AMAZING driver in any kind of precipitation and will not pull out an umbrella on the sidewalk until actual full sized droplets are bouncing on my head with any proximity to each other. if they are five seconds apart, get over it.

so today, as i walked to the dentist for my every-six-month cleaning, i found myself getting more and more annoyed by the douchebags on the sidewalk. here's the thing... if you're short, unless you follow the proper umbrella holding rules, you are going to poke me in the face as you walk by me. LIFT UP YOUR UMBRELLA!!! the tall people will lift theirs up higher, it'll all work out, but avoid pushing your umbrella spokes into other people's faces!! i do not understand how human beings can be so unaware of themselves as they walk down the street. you see the other people around you, don't you? it's even easier to spot them when they are also carrying football field sized bright orange umbrellas. because if you're going to carry an umbrella, CLEARLY you should be able to keep your entire golf cart dry at the same time. imbeciles. stay to the right, keep your umbrella above eye level of the people around you, and everything will be okay.

sidewalk rage is a growing problem in new york city. we must all do our part to make the sidewalks safe. i like my eyeballs, and i'd like to hold on to both of them. i know that's madness, but really.

today was also the first time that i had the opportunity to stand up next to my dental hygienist. usually i'm already sitting down in the chair when she comes in, and she usually leaves to go work on someone else by the time i get up to gather my things. not so this time, because i'd brought in stanley (my night guard) for a quick cleaning.... so as she was finishing him off, i stood up to grab my jacket (and hat and scarf and purse, if we're being thorough). i've always known that she was petite and adorable, but good lord i LOOM over her. she turned around and then tipped her head all the back to look up into my face. we both started laughing. then my dentist came in the room and she's also just as beency.

everywhere i go, i'm surrounded by little people. i'm about to change my name to dorothy and be done with it.

happy gobble gobble week. carry on.

i just piddled...

there are two things that make me clap my hands with glee:

this

and the fact that my friend martha k thought i'd find it funny. because i'm smart like that... n shit.

my old, achy bones just don't jazzercise...anymore

i let my friend meghan drag me to a jazz class at broadway dance center this morning. i'd like to point out for the record that meghan is 23 (i think) and about five feet tall. beeensy! she was on a college dance team and carries herself like someone that used to be a ballerina.

i haven't taken a real dance class (of the jazz variety) in the last decade, i haven't bothered to stretch like a dancer in about six years, and i haven't tried being a real dancer on my left foot since paulette (the bunion) was removed last year. foot reconstruction... fun times for another day.

it.. was... torture, of the embarrassment variety. i wasn't the worst person in the room. there was a fifty five year old woman with glasses in the room. that's something. but the instructor led us through 45 minutes of vigorous stretching before starting any actual choreography. i'm so sore right now it's not even funny.

on the first pass across the room, balancing and kicking and spinning, i realized that the two screws in my foot were NOT going to make things easy for me. i don't know what the hell i was thinking that 1) i'd ever be a real dancer again and 2) that my foot was anywhere ready to just pick things up again like i was sixteen years old. i spent the second 45 minutes of the class sitting in the corner and watching the early 20 somethings dancing their little asses off. i willed myself not to start weeping like a little baby.

i'll go back... because i'm too stubborn to let this eat at me and beat me... but man... how utterly humiliating. but hey, if i'm going to get back into regular person shape and then dancer shape, i have to start somewhere.

i randomly ran into my friend michelle on the subway home... she's a dancer/singer/actor/musican person (you know those people... you want to punch them in the face just because), and she really helped me get some perspective once i explained to her where i'd just come from. it's stupid of me to think that this morning was a failure. i stretched for 45 minutes and worked my foot out a little bit. the more i go, the better i'll get. and although all that scar tissue in my foot isn't ever going to breakdown, and i won't get perfect balance back on that side... i'm doing pretty well for an old lady that hasn't danced in a decade that now has two metal screws in her foot.

small favors kids... small favors.

who is that irish buffoon whooping and hollering in the back row?

oh wait... that's me.

and first of all, let me point out that i am NOT irish. but if you're going to a comedy show that is somehow completely based on ethnicity (even through five comics) then people are going to generalize about you and assume that because you are loud, and may or may not be mildy intoxicated, that you are (in fact) irish. not so, my friends, not so. i'm norwegian. but that is neither here nor there. well maybe there... but we'll move on.

last night after work, i accompanied a dear friend and coworker to go see his older brother do some stand-up comedy (is there sit down comedy? i'm curious). we went to vlada (gay bar) for some happy hour beverages, where i procured the business cards of too gentlemen (both not my team, obv) b/c i'm just that charming when i'm not trying to be. then we went to yum yum bankok and had some very delicious thai food (i was starving), and then on to the show at the broadway comedy club.

the broadway comedy club is one of those establishments that makes you pay the cover charge and then makes you purchase a two drink minimum (which really, is beyond annoying). the drink list was hilarious and so one of the other members of our party and myself decided to drink strawberry daquiri b&j wine coolers. that's right friends, i was drinking 'flashback to junior year of highschool' style beverages. and let me tell you... they... were... DELICIOUS!!! the host of the show, that i kept heckling because no one else was answering his dumb questions, ribbed me a little bit about our drinks, but i did not care. that shiitake made my night.

rajiv aka the funny indian is a delightful guy... in town visiting his brother until mid december (yay for the rest of us), so if you get the chance to check out his blog, or see him out somewhere serving up the funny... tell him i said hello.

carry on.

there are some things in life that just make me oh so sad...

this is one of them:



he's always been on my backburner greatest hot guy of all time list. the top five laminated (if you will)... for some reason hunky foreigners always manage to weasel their way on to my list (think hugh jackman, clive owen, and gerard butler), but val has always been the non moveable 'dude'. i'm obviously going to reassess PRONTO!

i'll be back later to discuss more important life issues... but for now i'll be over here, crying softly to myself.

between "her" and "me"...

(from an IM conversation with one of my best friends yesterday, because it was an interesting discussion, rather insightful, and i wanted to share it with y'all... excuse spelling and grammatical shortcuts):

me: i HAD good biz on saturday morning
the immature jerk... the honest stuff comes out when they've been drinking and then they go running for the scaredy little hills when more sober.
i'm too awesome... i'm tired of hearing that
her: what happened?
me: we met out... spent nine hours talking about all kinds of amazing things... made out...slept over.. sex didn't happen til the morning... he stayed til noon, we napped, ate breakfast. he said 'we have our numbers, we'll make it happen'... then nothing since then
no HI, no so glad i met you etc
deflating
her: no shit
me: like
i haven't a conversation that amazing in YEARS
her: did he say something that would make him freak out?
like "omg, i just showed i'm vulnerable, can't call ever again"
me: totally
her: that's redonk
me: yup
like it's MY fault that you like me and therefore i should be punished
her: this might be a stupid question, but are you going to call him?
me: i'm not sure
her: if he's really scared, i doubt he's trying to punish you
me: i might... in a few days. one last ditch effort.
her: more like running away cupping his balls
me: yeah
it still makes me really sad though. i'm tired of this reaction
it's one big rollercoaster
her: i know
i understand
me: like what is so inherently bad about me, then men dont seem to like after one day?
will i be alone forever?? maybe... maaayyyybe
her: well... i don't think you're bad or they're bad
i think you're ready and they're scared
me: yeah i spose... all these years of me being a chickenshit, and now that i'm ready... THEY're all chickshits
her: i don't know why or how it happened, but "men" in our generation will avoid responsibility at ALL COSTS
me: its true
how did that happen and why?
her: i have theories, but that doesn't mean anything
mostly it's a poor example they've learned from
me: well i usually like your theories
id believe that
her: and the fact that we women and our feminist tendancies have decided it's a GOOD thing to take up all the slack
me: which i do NOT think is a good thing
her: men are no longer being good providers, so women got back to work
men are no longer being protectors so we protect ourselves
me: this makes me want to cry
i'm going to blog with your insight btw... that's very smart
her: men are no longer being good fathers, so we're inseminating ourselves, marrying other women, making sex a "physical need" instead of part of a companion relationship
it's just completely backward
we WANT chivalry from individual men, but culturally we expect men to get the hell out of the way, treat us as 'equals'
no wonder they're confused
me: seriously
her: personally, i think feminism is the saddest, most tragic development in modern culture
it's our own damn fault


feel free to chime in on this...

black light bowling and small favors...

i should've worn my yellow arm streamers out last night... the amazing ones that kari and i made a few years ago for brie's disco rollerskating party. they're in my closet. along with the rest of the costume... note to self... wear them out next time you go BOWLING.

last night i went bowling... and not in a sunset lanes a dollar a game kind of a way. bowling in new york is expensive and not nearly as awesome and/or trashy as it is anywhere else. you end up throwing down quite a bit of cash, only to get really intoxicated and bowl terribly, because you are drunk and they've got ALL THE LIGHTS TURNED OFF SO THAT YOU DISCO BOWL!! how in the ceiling's name am i supposed to hit anything and make the boys cry over my sheer brilliance at bowling if i can't see the effing lane markers? tell me that!

my bowling performance was tres terrible... but i had a blast, and got to spend a few hours with some new friends that happen to mostly be from seattle. two of the guys happen to be my down the street neighbors, and they both have really great girlfriends that i've gotten to befriend as well, so my 'group of new york friends' is expanding (thank god, i was beginning to wonder).

we all parted ways at about 11pm... a few of them staying behind to knock out a few games and attempt to beat their girlfriends at least once before leaving the building (ah the male ego), and i took the subway home.

i got home only to find a text message from one of my neighbors asking me if i'd made it home safely. this made me supremely happy. and it's totally my move. i'm always that friend that says 'text me when you get home so i know that you made it safely' (and believe me i'm mocked endlessly for this)... so it's nice to have someone else finally GET IT.

my right pinky finger is hurting today... another quality bowling injury.
well played dactyl!



carry on.

quality television and my tooshie - in cahoots.

who knew that the bravo channel could provide such amazing motivation to go to the gym?! as you may or may not know, i do not have cable right now. as an attempt to get myself out of the house more, i decided to forego the cable. i'll read more... i'll go out for movies more... okay not really. i'll ass-rape netflix more is what i'll actually do. but anyway, i don't have cable.

so, imagine my delight when i realized that i can catch up on all things bravo channel while kicking my own ass on the elliptical machine! i used to suffer through even twenty minutes on that thing.. my feet fall asleep, i stare off into no man's land (because i don't wear my glasses while working out and can't see THAT far ahead of me without them), but now... i watch project runway reruns and giggle my way through forty minutes of ass kicking awesomeness.

gimme six weeks... just six weeks to get back into the kind of shape that i can be proud of. come christmas time i'm going to be running the streets nekkid... due to sheer joy at the sight of me. it's been long enough...bitches(and i'll be all caught up on my quality televesion, spank you very much).

icycles hanging from my nose...

ever have those mornings where your alarm goes off, and you slowly open one eye just a sliver to assess the light in the room and evaluate how badly you want to get up on time? today was totally one of those mornings where i spent many minutes searching the recesses of my mind trying to come up with some viable excuse to NOT go into work today. had someone been sleeping next to me, i absolutely would've stayed home in bed... but alas, i could come up with nothing, and here i am freezing my ASS off.

i am completely swathed in my scarf right now, and the space heater is rocking out on the floor... my shins are so warm right now. pfffffft.

icycles hanging from my nose.. if i sneeze too hard i might cut my chin with them. okay that's a slight exaggeration. obv. but it's dang cold. and i want to be curled up in bed napping.

carry on.

i like to jinx myself... don't i?

i mean i REALLY like to jinx myself. we know this about me. i talk about things and get excited about things before they are actually ever THINGS... and yet i can never seem to control my excitement. we KNOW this about me.

so i'm not altogether certain that friday night actually occurred, or if it was, in fact, just a figment of my slightly intoxicated imagination... and excessive penchant for all things ridiculous.

here's what i know: i came home from work feeling exceedingly exhausted and somehow managed to get myself off of the bed and into an outfit including chapeau. i went down to houston street and met mishka for some happy hour style beverages, and flirted with a bartender named gary. he was too happy about serving drinks called a 'ginger yum yum' (i couldn't let it go). then i went to sing sing with arija and ryan and rakesh, and actually managed to sing one song alone... and a duet with arija of 'part of your world'. yes... we sing disney tunes at bars. what of it?

then i know that matt dragged us over to greenpoint to a bar called i have no idea what, where people where playing pool and dancing in the middle of what was NOT a dancefloor. and here's where my imagination perhaps plays tricks on me. i weaseled my way into a conversation with two gentlemen in the corner, of which i'm certain that i invited myself... and then spent the next nine hours enjoying the shiitake out of one of their company (please note that the latter half of that sentence is not grammatically correct.. here's me not caring right now).

so i should stop the mere mention of this right? because amazing nine hours should be repeated with no end, and if i talk about it it'll go away, right? we know this about me. but good things do happen when you least expect them.

carry on.

lars and the real girl...

i went to see lars and the real girl last night with one of my girlfriends. sooooo not what i was expecting, although i really don't know what i was expecting (but really who cares when it comes to ryan gosling, who can do no wrong in my mind... clearly).

here's the imdb write up on the plot synopsis:

Lars (Ryan Gosling) is an awkwardly shy young man in a small nothern town who finally brings home the girl of his dreams to his brother and sister-in-law's home. The only problem is that she's not real - she's a sex doll Lars ordered off the internet. But sex is not what Lars has in mind, but rather a deep, meaningful relationship. His sister-in-law is worried for him, his brother thinks he's nuts, but eventually the entire town goes along with his delusion in support of this sweet natured boy that they've always loved.

i laughed my tooshie off... and went through a few tissues. absolutely worth the in theater purchase price, and i'm recommending this movie with a two very big thumbs up. paul schneider (as the older brother) is brilliant and on the verge of being huge... just wait and see.

bon weekend.

i've already gotten my flu shot biyotches...

i had a lovely date this evening... met for a glass of wine, then went on to one of my favie mexican spots for some deliciousness avec avocado (because everything tastes better with avocado)... aaaaaand i had a few margaritas.

fast forward to the end of the evening... aka nine o'clock and about to walk down the subway steps... good date smooching occurs, and then out of nowhere i hear someone yell out 'be careful it's flu season!!!'... and i burst into giggles.

once the giggles subside we go right back to smooching.. because really... i've already gotten my flu shot this year biyotches!!

carry on.

you can be my bodyguard, i can be your long lost pal...

it's not just me going through things... it would appear that at this stage in life, an asston of people start questioning their paths, their goals... the way their lives are going (or not going as the case may be). for those of us that AREN'T making six figures at the age of 28-30, we begin to wonder what all the effort we put into our daily lives is for.

is it the right move for me to move to new york, for example, and invest two to three years in the publishing industry, when that isn't going to guarantee that i'll be able to focus and pump out an amazing commercial novel... not to mention have it picked up and published by a good house? is writing my avenue? is it a GOOD thing that i took a massive paycut to move here and pursue this, all the while wracking up more debt and living a just-slide-by existence? what's the point? and having ten people as devoted blog readers does not a best seller make. can i assume that the general masses are going to want to read what i have to write? who knows really... but i suppose that it never hurts to try.

that was a tangent, i wasn't even going to write about that originally... but i just read a slackmistress blog about her disenchantment with her life as a struggling writer, and it gets me thinking. that's all.

anyway, back to 'going through things'. a little while ago i had a falling out with someone that i'd sort of befriended... and it ended in a melee of angry emails (on her part), with her calling me self absorbed, etc. and i calmly refused to agree with her. and as upset as i was about that incident, my rational mind had to work out WHY the relationship had unfolded that way. and the answer is this: there are some people in your life that you tell things to, and some people in your life that tell you things, and very few people in your life that get to know and have it all.... the true reciprocal love that is a great friendship. and with this person, i really didn't care about her, and she might have me. and that is where the communication failed. i am an endless outlet for divulging feelings... for some reason people like to unleash the floodgates at me and tell me what's going on in their hearts. i am a great listener... usually. i give good advice, and even via online communication, offer comfort. i very rarely unload to others... and if i do it's usually to the same few people (which i'm sure is overwhelming, i just don't want to complain over and over and over again, so all twelve thousand of my friends get the latest gist)...

obv there's a lot going on in my little noggin right now... must... get... out. why am i even talking about this?? i don't remember. SEE!! this is why i can't concentrate and write a bloody book. my brain cells aren't working together.. it's a team effort here folks let's get it together!!! this weekend, i'm writing chapter one... photo editing be damned.

catch me if you can...

we made a very interesting discovery this morning as we were leaving to get our coffee (we meaning my coworker j and i... not we as in all of my personalities, thank you). j and i were doing some festive little dance moves in the elevator on the way down, and it occurred to j that there might be cameras in with us. i'm quite certain that there are cameras all over the place in this building, but really i just turn to the corners and give whoever is watching a big thumbs up.

when we got downstairs i asked the security desk if they could see in the elevators, and of course... they can. j got a little somber and admitted to adjusting stockings and pulling wedgies out whilst riding the elevator. please... that's it? i work on high up boogs, practice my vocal stylings and slam dancing moves, AND adjust my stockings.

you gotta keep the security staff happy... i mean... they're there for your security!!

carry on.

traffic, shopping, and comparisons...

i find it painfully amusing (read not that amusing at all, but slightly interesting in my bizarre little mind) that you can jaywalk to the high heavens in new york city, but you can't turn right on a red light. i'm sure these two are correlated, but still. i'm all for pedestrian right of way (which they don't actually have), and yet a part of me is still that seattle driver that would want you to wait for ME and my bright, shiny bumper.

i've noticed recently that i pay a large amount of attention to what other people are picking up in a store when i'm there. or, more to the point, i pay attention to what OTHER people are also picking up the same items that i am. i have a thing about shopping in large bargain stores like H&M, because i really don't want to be caught on the subway wearing the same thing as some frumpy woman with 80s bangs. is that bad?

here's my amazing seque from comparison shopping to 'comparison shopping'... i slay me really. i notice that i worry too much about what other people are creating. i tend to comparison shop my talent. not 'shop FOR talent' or put my talent up for shopping, in a highway 99 ripped stocking, i'll give you a treat for twenty dollars kind of way (holy tangent). i mean that i look at what my peers are putting out (photographically speaking) and compare my work. one really shouldn't do that when talking about art and creation... but i still tend to do it. i compare myself... like i have every day of my life in most categories. learning, sports, popularity, life success... and now photography. it's hard not to do... but i know that a good number of them are comparing themselves to me too, which is so silly.

i don't have any actual conclusions about the above... i suppose i'd rather hear YOUR interpretation about why we feel the need to compare ourselves in general. i mean... who really cares?

well... besides me of course. carry on.

make it snappy... snappy

i know normal people would complain when they have to work seven day workweeks, but not me... because i'm CRAZY! luckily both of my career outlets are different from each other, and one allows me to get creative and meet fun and interesting new(ish) people.

i bought a new camera last week, and spent the last two days testing it out. i'm going to have to memorize the manual, but for now, please enjoy the joyousness that is my new canon 40d (her name is samantha fyi).

this is amy:


and this is tristan:


i really do love working with actors... they tend to be really expressive and up for anything festive (which i appreciate).

i found myself walking around manhattan today with tristan (who is actually a friend of mine from seattle that now lives here as well... but he's not prehistoric...obv), and we witnessed thousands of marathon runners enjoying (or suffering through) the first few moments after finishing the race. i've made one serious conclusion about marathon runners... crazy. these people are crazy. i'll just be over here, thinking about the situps that i'll never do.

bon weekend... i'm just exhausted.

creating magic via combination...

have you ever had the good fortune of hiccuping and burping at the same time? i just experienced a hiccurp for the first time... sort of a hic-BLEEEUURGGH moment of brillance.

thank god i was in the elevator alone... how mortifying.

climbing trees or basically acting like a monkey...

i used to love climbing trees, i was such a tomboy... always with scraped up knees and holes in my jeans. i was the youthful equivalent of a monkey... constantly upside down, building tree forts, running amuk (as it were) and engaging in general tomfoolery (isn't that such a great word btw?).

so it's fitting now, in my later years of ladylike behavior (guffaw) that i analogize dating tall men with climbing trees. i'm sorry but i'm TALL. on a good day i'm almost 5'10" and in 87% of the shoes that i own, i'm 6 feet tall. so if you aren't at LEAST six feet tall, it's just not going to work... it's not. there will be no romance, i will never imagine you scooping me up by the back pockets of my jeans and slamming me up against a wall (overshare perhaps?? bygones), and i will not be made to feel petite and protected. because really, even at glamazon height, we want to feel protected.

so last night i had a first date with an actual tree, and it felt great to walk down the sidewalk arm in arm, with my shoulders and neck comfortably fitting into the nook like i belonged there. i... LOVED... it. dinner was quite lovely, we ate at the rocking horse cafe in chelsea, really interesting and well done upscale mexican food... and just about the strongest margarita i've ever had. they had pear, so of course i ordered the pear. but really, a pear (or the essence of pear in the case of this margarita) did nothing to mask the taste of tequila, so really it was like drinking one nonstop frozen shot of cuervo. and you know what? i loved every minute of it.

i'm off in search of coffee (or as one friend mocks, how can i possibly be searching for it if there's a starbucks on every corner), and tomorrow remind me to talk about my obsession with babywipes. i don't want to forget.

carry on...

pushing all the wrong buttons...

the time has come, to push the button. sorry... lyrics.

anyway, i've been picking up a few festive winter tidbits (in the clothing arena, of course), and i'm noticing that i am at CONSTANT war with the buttons on my shiitake. last week, i found that both of the cute little buttons on the sleeve of a new shirt had popped off, the middle button of my new sweater had come off (luckily id kept the extra button b/c it's rather large and noticeable when missing), the short sleeved work appropriate little jackety thing i bought... the button popped off of the first day. now i KNOW i sometimes have a problem with corners, meaning i cut them too short, and am always walking into walls... so maybe i'm just snagging these buttons on corners, or am too rough with myself as the day goes by. who knows really. all i'm saying, is that i can't seem to keep the buttons on my clothing. if i had a boyfriend, he'd like this about me... however i do not... and therefore, need my buttons.

normally when i buy new clothes and remove the tags, that extra little envelope (or baggie as the case may be) with the standby button gets tossed right into the garbage. eff that. seriously, i'm now going to take up a button collection, because even in new clothes i somehow manage to look like an utter hobo. hobo chic is in right? eeeesh.

i'm enjoying my morning latte and croissant (yes i realize its afternoon but just go with me here.. and yes i pronounce croissant in my french maid accent) and i really love the advent of this festive little coffee lid. you pull back the tab and it tucks neatly into a premade little nook, so it stays open and you can enjoy your coffee. so fancy. who THOUGHT of that? i'd like to give them a high five.

and then i'd also like to meet the inventor of pantyhose... whoever HE is (b/c come on...it's clearly a he)... and punch him in the face.

carry on.

did i ever tell you, you're my HERO(E)...

not that i really wanted to give ole bette a shout out this morning, i was just pondering the awesome that is 'heroes' and wanting to share that i'd completely caught up on this season's episodes via nbc.com and the worst stop and go media player i've ever experienced in my life... but really, it's worth it. Milo is delicious and i'm a big fan of all this no-shirt business that they've got him doing thus far. don't watch 'heroes' with me... all i do is jump on the couch (or bed if i'm watching in my own room) and scream 'where's peter!!?' over and over again until he comes back on screen. and i thought my prisonbreak crush was bad... i don't even watch that show anymore.

hello milo (who looks better than this pic since he buzzed his hair):



for all of you keeping track, i am officially not pregnant. i've been on birth control since i was fourteen years old (for cramp maintenance not b/c i'm uber slutty, spank you very much), so being three days late is a complete oddity for me. that ended this morning, so we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming. the one where i sleep alone and don't participate in any activities in which i'd find myself in this situation again. did that make sense? i swear i'm babbling but it might just be my uterus yelling via my typing fingers. they're all consipiring against me, i tell you... my vicious body parts.

carry on...

it's a constant reminder really... no... really!

i consider myself to be borderline computer savvy and above average when it comes to the world of technology. i mean, my mother always asks me to program her remotes, and show her how to use email systems, etc... so i'm a total pro right? sometimes... not so much.

i have some pretty massive computer geeks in my friend basket too, so you'd think that it would sink in. and some of it has... i know some tricksie little tools.

anyway, i was having some issues with my upgraded pc at work and sent a ticket in to the help desk... and upon inspection of the 'ticket xxxoxox295 has been opened' (and yes somehow that became hugs and kisses ticket but whatever) i realized that my original email had been bounced around between three or four upper level IT managers asking 'do you have any idea what tara is talking about?' the answer, obv, is NO... they did not.

so i emailed one of the originators of the email strain to say 'it is entirely possible that i am retarded... so am i?'... and he called to explain that i was, in fact, crazy. all of my assumptions about why my computer wasn't functioning properly: totally in my own head. makes a girl feel special, you know? and by special i DO mean that a short yellow bus is coming to take me to school.

bollocks.

the mighty will eventually fall...

i am one of those people that are prone to random mishaps... you'd think someone that has been dancing for most of their lives would have the grace associated with gliding freely throughout the world without food disasters and the like, but i am just not one of those people. we all know about my ongoing battle with yogurt containers (especially when it's a pink yogurt)... but i'm bringing this up because my morning latte is sitting between my arms as i type this, and i'm forgetting what it was that i was going to say, because i'm convinced that at any moment, one wrist will have a spasm, and i will have spilled this latte all over myself. i mean, i'm wearing beiges and khakis today, but a brown lap stain probably wouldn't pull the ensem together, if you know what i'm saying.

i need hand lotion... hold please.

ah much better. what is it about the soap in public restrooms that just wants to strip the flesh off of your body? moving on.

my whole point of today's entry... regardless of how high and mighty a person might feel (and mind you, i very rarely have grandious notions of excellence about myself... due to the aforementioned battle with yogurt containers) there are instances in life that remind us that we are, in fact, fallible... and aren't as ego-worthy as we might expect ourselves to be (not me, mind you... but some people).

here are my examples for today:

1. the end of the deodorant stick. no matter how graceful you are trying to be, the mini sliver that is left is going to make you feel ridiculous as you try to apply even the thinnest of layers. you lean over slightly to help with the application, you might use part of a finger to keep the sliver on the stick, you might use a finger to smear the actual deod onto your body (i haven't done this yet but i've heard other people speak of resorting to this method), or you simply place your armpit over the stick and sort of smash it up in there, cutting yourself with the plastic of the container... and hope for the best. at any given moment, there is a 97% chance that the sliver is going to fall off the stick and land on the floor. and b/c it's just you in the bathroom, and you'll be the only person to know, you scoop the sliver back off of the floor, try and balance it back on the top of the stick, pull off any unassuming pieces of lint or hair from the floor, and attempt steps one through twelve again. either way... i'm STILL left feeling completely inadequate as i will myself to remember to buy more deodorant during my lunch break today. will i? probably not.

2. lately i have been fighting with my watch. well not exactly fighting... but we've definitely been having some sort of misunderstanding. for no reason whatsoever, it will suddenly be 45 minutes slow. this is not some sort of 'and so it was that a wristwatch saved harold crick' moment... although if i suddenly start hearing emma thompson narrate my life... actually what i was about to say wasn't even true. i was GOING to say that i'd freak out, but really, i'd be beyond ecstatic. how could i not? i adore emma thompson. anyway, my watch battery is fine, and i don't feel like i'm snagging the winding mechanism on anything, but i think it's interesting that i only notice that my watch is off after 45 minutes. no more... no less.

i had more to say... but i've just spent the last ten minutes listening to people babble at each other in my office as they wait to go into a meeting in another room. and have subsequently lost my train of thought.

this latte is delicious though... and i'm craving some yogurt.

i don't care what you do, just please stop showing me the lipstick...

my roommate's dog has a crush on me. his name is eden (yes i know), and he's a chihuahuahuhauhauaha (or however the hell you spell that horrendous word).
he whimpers, he shakes uncontrollably, and he twirls around in fast little circles when he thinks that someone is about to give him attention.

he also (though i have no idea why) gets visibly "excited" anytime i get near him. it completely (and i mean completely) grosses me out. for some reason, i've managed to avoid the oddities that go along with having male dogs (being mostly a cat owner), so i was ill-prepared for what this dog would do to me.

apparently he's never been neutered, so he humps other people's feet... but not me... he tries to lick my feet and then show me the lipstick. FOUL.

my roommate was out of town for about ten days a little bit ago, and i was trying really hard to be nice to the dog, and give him little pets on the head, etc... and one saturday afternoon, upon realizing that i'd been ignoring the dog for many many hours, i decided to allow the dog into my room and up onto my bed while i relaxed and watched a movie.

he seemed to be quieting down and watching the movie as well, until i looked down to see him going to town on himself with the biggest boner i've ever seen on a dog. i'm pretty sure that my neighbors thought i was being attacked due to the yelp that i screamed, but i threw the dog down the hall and immediately went into the bathroom to wash my hands... twice.

seriously. why does this creep me out so much? now i really can't go anywhere near the dog. i keep peeking to see if the lipstick is out...and when i'm around... oh it's out baby.

anyone else?? or is it just me?

a date with myself and other tidbits of "business"

i really do have odd names for everything... it's not an intentional thing that i do with language, i just put words together in bizarre ways... it's sort of my thing. i like having a thing, or things... depending on how oddball i'm feeling.

last night, after a week filled with responsibilities, i decided to put off all work and just have a date with myself. i got home and instantly put on the jams, popped 'stranger than fiction' into the dvd player, put on a pot of boiling water for my one artichoke (cooking for one will be a whining topic for another day.. when i actually feel like whining of course), got online to order my freshdirect for today, and settled in.

i'm in the final countdown to girl time, and who knows if other women have this 'problem' but i tend to get a little fiesty (will fiester than usual, let's be honest) during the last three days before armageddon. needless to say, i decided to really have a date with myself... so i checked the arti... aaaaaand took care of business. i am not a ride the wave, twelve hour sexcapade, multi orgasmic individual. i'm a one massive, smack the wall, yell your name (if applicable, i have yet to actually yell my own name, but might as well have in this instance) kind of person... and then, please leave me alone. i won't be able to form words, i don't reeaaaally want to cuddle, please lord just let me relish. anyway, last night... for the first time in my ENTIRE life... i gave myself TWO. yes people, you heard me correctly, I HAD TWO IN A ROW!!!

i have girlfriends that like to sort of brag in the tellings of their sexcapades, and how many times they finished and all that la la la. and i've never been jealous, b/c i've always been supremely happy with my big one (as opposed to their smaller many)... but i have to tell you, i was rather a big fan of the multi-BONANZA that was my date with myself.

i should date me more often.

in other news, a guy that i went out on a date with last week (aka rode the motorcycle with), has decided to send me a picture of his business. as a sort of, here's what you're in for kind of a thing. except this particular image that he sent me is of another girls face about to give HIS business the business. now why does this turn me off? hmmmmmmm. i'm all for sexy time, and a little pre naughty talk to get a person excited for the actual business... but really, you ruin the surprise. and if you are going to blatantly push your agenda for the business, i'm going to lose interest in you faster than you can take off your clothes. and in this man's case, i'm going to assume that with that much practice, he's got that down to a science.

cheers.

my life IS stranger than fiction...

i know i'm being uber wordy today, i just can't help it. i have rather groundbreaking news to tell you all about tomorrow, but i just got done watching 'stranger than fiction' for the third time in three days, and i'm left with such a joyful feeling of hope that i'd like to put the closing monologue of the movie down on paper (computer screen) to remember it and refer back when i need a moment's pause:

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.

the letter j is my nemesis... literally

i dont know what it is about the letter j and it's ability to just tear me to pieces. every emotional breakdown i've had, because of a break up or a relationship gone bad, has mostly had to do with the guy having a name that started with a J (ironically, my best friend's name starts with j... so this is the universe's way of saying that i should really be a lesbian.. bygones).

it happened... AGAIN! even in the briefest of interludes i met a man in this city that was actually interesting, and good looking, and talented.. and passionate about so many things... i was actually excited to get to know him. the first week = magic. three great dates and many hours spent together talking, eating, watching movies, and just getting down to the good stuff. week two = the antithesis and the slow fade. if you don't know me then you aren't fully aware of my 'isms', but the slow fade is something i came up with a few years ago to coin a man's sudden failure to communicate... and slowly and quietly slip out of your life without one of those communicative discussions that could be quite simple if someone just said 'it's too fast' or 'i'm not really into you' or 'i'm an idiot and want to be with someone skinnier and with less of a sense of humor'. who knows what goes on inside of a man's brain, but the 180 slow retreat is the most cowardly move i've ever been privvy to. and yet...it happens to me alot. not a LOT, mind you. but i find that the men i meet just can't seem to be honest about what's going on in their little brains.

and so i'm left a little curious, and a lot of wounded... sort of sad, and pretending that someone i've known for 2.5 weeks doesn't have the capability of reducing me to tears by simply deciding that he's not as excited about me as he was when we first met.

alas... the letter j... you've thwarted me again.
check mate.

dactyl endeavors to battle the flu...again and again and again.

since my lungs have been undergoing a constant battle with the east coast air quality and germ plague, i decided to bite the bullet and succomb to the pseudo-spam-yet-from-human-resources pleas of a free flu shot. i made the trip up to the appropriate floor five times, only to be told the first time that the doctor had run out of shots about eight people in front of me, and the remaining times to find a line so long, you'd think they were giving away diamonds... or even top quality peanut brittle. who knows. fifth time was a charm however, and i was at the front of the line when the rest were informed that they only had six shots left (i received number 2). i don't know what it is about such a scenario that causes me to actually GLOAT to the rest of the line, and cheekily try to sell my shot to the highest bidder... but the words did in fact come out of my mouth. obviously, not one person found that moment amusing (except me of course... and i would like to point out that the nurses administering the shot found me hilarious... lest you all suddenly worry that i've lost my mojo).

unfortunately, i'm now worried that my body can't battle the virus they've injected into my arm. i have been sneezing like a sneezing fool all last night and today. i got super dizzy last night and just kept eating and drinking water until it went away, but still felt a little offkilter. and my arm kills. of course that means that i can't work out (oh darn, it'll have to wait a day), but it's sort of ridiculous that one little stab in the arm can sideline your regular life so badly. bygones. i'll win this battle. my already forming powerhouse antibodies have been adequately bribed. if they do a good job, i promise not to kick them out.

do you ever notice how much better a woman walks when wearing heels? i don't know what it is about me, but i'm always made aware of the fact that i FEEL like i have more confidence when wearing something with a little lift. it's as if my lower half is doing magic tricks on stilts. love it.

i've got my morning coffee in hand... let the fantasmica begin.

last night... we baked

coworker J and i attempted to do some baking last night after work. and no, i most certainly do NOT mean the illegal kind... i'm talking flour and eggs and sugar here people, stay with me.

we were overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of making these green tea cheesecake brownies but really, they look like white mini quiche squares. too much butter perhaps?? who knows. but we have them at work and are waiting for SOMEONE to brave the weird appearance and give them a little taste.

someone just sent us an email saying that they are, in fact, delish... right this second. i was going to transition my thought pattern, but had to tell you. success!! even if the nibbler is a young canadian girl.. it counts.

i rather enjoy all things domestic. i really love doing laundry, and cooking, and organizing, and sewing, and all such things. i dont actually like the cleaning part however. if it weren't for the advent of the swiffer, i would be living in a ginormous pile of dust bunnies. i mean if you're going to keep pets, they might as well be living beings, right? can dust bunnies be considered pets? i'm going to look into it, b/c i'm certainly not going to pay anyone a pet deposit simply b/c i abhor dusting.

i tangent... whoopsie.

my valediction prediction...

just go with it... it rhymes.

i have very intelligent friends... i do. i'm not going to lie. such things usually make me feel good about myself. for some reason, new york has provided me the opportunity to increase the knowledge level of my friend base. why is that you might ask (or you might if you actually cared about what i had to say... so thank you... for those that actually, in fact, you know... care)? i think it's because there's a pretension that goes along with this place. people really seem to care about where you went to college, and what you studied, and the number of degrees you have (because one bachelor degree doesn't really cut the mustard), and all that flim flam. whatever. sit at a table with me and my coworkers on any given day and this will be the round up: yale, yale, stanford, harvard, oxford, brown, yale, university of washington. pretty sure that last one is the dactyl (good call). it amuses me. but at the same time i can't stand verbal showboating. it's a fine line, but in the publishing industry, advanced vocabulary is routine.

i left los angeles because i couldn't stand how plastic the city was... and not just in a surgically cosmetic sense... the people just seemed to have no souls. i lived there for two years and didn't generate one meaningful relationship with a single person there. tres boring. but i find that i dislike new york for the opposite reason. there is meaning, but does soulfullness exist here?

back to my original topic... whenever i find myself puzzling over the meaning of a certain word or concept, i know not to trouble myself too greatly with it. i simply lean my head out my office and ask the general nearbys what the answers are. more likely than not, it is my bff at work R... and in today's case he came through for me. again.

during lunch S posed the following question: i know that the opening of any letter is called a salutation, but what is the closing called? the answer: a valediction. R wins again.

and now you can all consider yourself enlightened...

a busy weekend and the vroom vroom...

thank the ceiling for small favors... after a very busy weekend of traveling and shooting (new jersey and connecticut), i found myself back at home on sunday evening preparing for a date that never happened. he was tired. feeling slightly deflated about the way this new romance had fizzled, i decided to take a stranger up on his offer to take me on a bike ride... and by bike, i mean the real kind.. the motorcycle.

we did a full swoop of lower manhattan, at about 70 miles an hour, the wind blasting me in the face, my legs doing their duty of keeping me on the bike... and a grin deliciously plastered across my face. overall i never loved living in southern california, but i certainly do miss those weekend bike rides out ortega highway... stopping randomly for beers and mexican food. last night i had a taste of that again, and boy... it was just what i needed. JUST... WHAT... I... NEEDED!

until next weekend, when we ride again... i'll be here enjoying the smile that won't leave my face.

sort of an exciting day in dactyl land...

my photography website has gone live... still have to do some final editing and get a logo designed etc.. but it's there for your viewing pleasure.

www.taraleigh.com

eeeeeeeek!!

these also came in the mail yesterday, so you'd best believe that i'm rocking them today. i love zappos... such things should just be known. :)



i had a rather painful date last night... and i have another one tonight with a doctor (like that matters), and really, i just want to cancel and stay home and read. now i'm starting to remember why i hated this process so much last year... b/c it's painful and emotionally draining. i've already met someone that i think is lovely and such a great time to be around...but he's not looking for a relationship. so now what do i do? i keep going on painful dates, that's what i do.

a midtown monarch...

i just went into rakesh's office to tell him something about his notoriety as "an indian man that speaks many languages" when i happened to glance outside his window (at the ever increasing grayness that is the sky today... pending rain anyone? anyone?) and saw a monarch butterfly hovering. i mean it clearly wasn't flapping it's bright orange wings and flying around... it was sort of just coasting and was probably propelled upwards by the steam and exhaust of the buildings and cars below (i'm making this up but it sounds interesting)...

it's not very often that one looks out a seventh story window only to find a monarch butterfly commuting through midtown manhattan. i mean really...

where is he going? is bloomie's having a sale that i don't know about? i mean, he's completely missed the columbus day (aka let's celebrate our italianness and be annoying by blocking the sidewalks day) parade... but still. you don't come in to midtown without some sort of mission.

i wonder if i toss a 20 dollar bill out the window (that doesn't open) if he'll go on a starbucks run for me. i could use a little something-festive-with-caramel-and-a-long-name-achino, if you know what i'm sayin...

word.

all i know is that i miss you...

i have a serious problem. i'm a little bit obsessed with amazon. i've bought soooooooo many movies in the last few months that it's kind of ridiculous. but i'm buying all these movies that i love and that i can watch over and over and over again during my 'stay in bed the entire day b/c you love wearing your jams and watching movies all day' kind of days. but when i total up the amount of money i've spent in the last six months on movies... eeek. i mean its not THAT bad... but really... i need to knock it off and just get out of the effing house.

i went out to dinner with a friend and coworker on saturday night and it was really lovely. we had a glass of wine, and then had brazilian for dinner, walked around a bit... and i sent myself home b/c all the talking was making me cough really hard, but i had a truly delightful evening. i forgot what it feels like to have an easy and interesting night out on the town. i need more of those.

i miss the west coast. i'm just going to admit that right now. it's so lonely here. and i'm not getting enough visits... you slackers. ;) i figure this time next year i'll either be heading back to seattle or moving eastward again... why not europe, i mean really. i figure if i'm not seeing someone and moving towards that settling down stage, that i might as well see the world and experience as much as i can. i mean really, if you'd like to change that plan of action, by all means put a ring on my finger... but in the meantime, i'll be living via passport.

i've been coughing for about two weeks straight now... i KNOW as soon as i walk into a doctor's office it's going to stop... and then i'll have wasted all that money. am i being stupid? stubborn yes... but stupid? i don't pay enough attention to myself anymore, so really have lost clarity about alot of things.

all i know is that i miss you.

if i was a little kitten, i’d totally pet myself...

i haven't been telling many people, because i don't want to jinx myself... but there's a very good chance that one of my photographs is going to be on the cover of a book. they had a concept that they couldn't find a stock photo for, so i shot something quickly for them. it looks decent, in my opinion, but not amazing. so we'll see... crossing fingers b/c that'd be mighty groovy.

bronchitis and i are like bff... it's like we're in a long term relationship... except i'm not getting any ass. just phlegm.

i've been meeting a ton of people lately that all seem to have cats. do you know what this does to me? it makes me want kittens even more. we can't have pets in our current apartment, so i'd have to wait til next year anyways... but still. i want a kitten. soonish.

it's wednesday and the boss will be gone for two weeks for a bookfair. i'll either be bored out of my mind, or he'll call every day with weird requests and keep me on my toes. i can't decide which sounds better.

because i'm sick, and because i'm just that kind of lazy (or awesome, you pick) i ordered more food from fresh direct. i'm sorry, but the idea of someone BRINGING me fresh produce and ice cream is the highest form of decadence. and it's cheap... so i mean reeeeeeaally.

i get to see A this weekend. thank GOD because i need a hug that means something.

reason number 5,238 that i’ll never be a celebrity...

here's just another reason why i'll never be famous.

in the trend of abbreviating names to make people sound cooler a la JLo for Jennifer Lopez and LiLo for Lindsay Lohan....ladies and gentleman I bring you

Ta-Co.

bleh. at least i'd cause a new generation to eat mexican food.

happy tuesday.

a snugglesaurus is just what is needed here...

today is one of those days when i really just want to go home early from work, climb into the comfiest pair of pjs on earth and waste the day watching champion 80s movies... and giggling. i need to take advantage of the down time while i can, because i'm shooting an all day wedding tomorrow and need to conserve as much energy as possible.

of course someone else to snuggle WITH would be most helpful... but even in times of decade long dry spells... you get by somehow or other.

my pledge for october... i plan on blogging over here every day instead of just on myspace. i figure it's time to stop hiding behind the privacy of my friend's list and just letting it all out before it's too late.

i feel so much like a background person lately... that great things will never happen to me, i'll be the understudy to some great production. i mean, if i'm playing understudy to scarjo that won't be so bad... at least i'd be that much closer to making ryan reynolds my mancake for life. but that's an entirely separate subject.

clarification: as you may or may not know, i have an overdeveloped fascination with ryan reynolds... and jessical biel as it happens. so maybe it's just a blade trinity thing... but really... i heart them both. bygones.

back at the beginning with you...

let's start over, back at the beginning.

we'll shake hands, turn about, stare at each other from across a crowded room.

double take.

triple step.

topple over.

turn about and begin again.

you'll say everything that comes to mind, and i will smile and say...

thank you.



we will live a dream within a dream.

a never ending tale of joy...

the sheer and unabiding affinity for ease.

a pleasing moment.

an effortful distance.

an unyielding attraction that wills the worlds to collide and expand upon themselves.



in essence, of essence... we will be strangers.

with history written only in the books that we'll never read.

and i will conjecture to write you well,

if only in my imagination,

as i do now but with limited memory.



i will remember you,

if we start over again.

i’ve got my eye on you...

i figure it's about time to bite the bullet and get contact lenses for real this time. yes i have astigmatism and have trouble in the past with the comfort level of wearing contacts, but really.. if i'm going to keep taking pictures... it'd be nice to not have my glasses smushed into my face whilst looking through my viewfinder. just a thought...

our vision plan is quite frankly... lame. it's a reimbursement plan. which means i have to pay out of pocket and then fill out forms and wait to be reimbursed. cuz i totally have $500 extra dollars laying around for my eyeball fund.

i am still not quite sick... i keep taking tylenol cold (sleepy time version) before bed, and it's helping me 1) fall asleep earlier and 2) actually get a good nights sleep. of course im totally groggy during the day, but at least i'm well rested. ish. if i can stay this way til sunday morning, the bubonic plague can strike me for all i care. but it HAS to wait til sunday morning... i cannot eff up this wedding. (which, by the way, i'm now starting to get nervous about).

overall... i'm just bored. i've been working alot and trying to stay rested and hydrated... and i'm just bored. i haven't been to the gym in almost three weeks, and that's not good. being so busy that you can't take time out to take care of yourself... not worth the money. :)

i know that i was super excited for september to get here, and now that it's sped by i'm heralding october like it's my job. i suppose we always want the opposite of what we actually have... and it's my least favorite thing about myself.

hi there...

real men don’t order frappaccinos..

you might be grossed out by this but i was just in the bathroom... taking care of some business... and the person in the stall next to me was either holding her hand above her head and dropping pebbles into the bowl or performing the hover at almost a full standing position... the plop plops were SO loud. i almost wanted to say something, but did not. i just wiped my seat and proceeded...

this morning, on my quest for caffeine, i watched the most interesting pair of business people chatting as they waited for their starbucks. she was probably 5'2" in an almost chic suit, possibly italian (the girl not the suit), wearing edgy glasses, and attempting to look older than she was... or perhaps more hip, who knows. her conversation partner was like 6'6" and also italian (and by italian it could've been any number of languages b/c i couldn't really hear what they were saying). his head was bent so far forward that his chin was resting on his chest, and she was looking up so much that her neck HAD to be hurting. anyway... these types of conversations always amuse me... i have no idea why. i am not short... so this shit doesn't occur in my life. anyway, i was trying to get a good once over glance at the guy because, well, he's tall and i'll take what tallness i can get around here (really)... and then his order came up... and i changed my mind... because any real man in my future life does NOT order frappuccinos.. especially with a mountainous pile of whipped cream on top.

SIA last night was amazing... her new album should prove to be just as magical as the last. and i still maintain that she is ninety million times better live than she is in a recording studio. but that's just me...

i'm really tired... too much work... but in a good way. please keep your photo referrals coming in. the more the merrier... and the sooner i save up for a better camera, the sooner you'll have access to better pictures of yourselves.

or something.

an intimate position...

bless my starry skies

and this expanse of deepest black.

a curtained soliloquy in waking up next to something new.

letting fingers intertwine as a melody lingers in the distance

embracing...

everything.

intimacy is everywhere if you bother to hold onto it.

rushing through your fingers and peppering the neck with sensation.

a festooning of joy

discussed in quiet circles with the whispered promise

of

sameness.

the end of solace and misery.

the beginning of forgiveness.

the start of a conversation that never ceases to amaze.

the continuance...

my dear august...

i hate to break it to you, but you've been rather sucky.

your weather has been all over the place... solid events have been minimal (minus DP which was beyond amazing and might make up for the rest of august's suckiness in one blow)... and for the most part you've been rather boring. even lonely.

i am looking forward to september, in earnest. i have tickets in hand to some amazing shows, fun people are coming to visit, and the idea of pulling out scarves and sweaters again rather excites me. i love fall. for that brief month where neither summer swass nor winter chafing endeavor to ruin me.

august... i promise to be good to you for the next week and then will give you one hearty goodbye as i dropkick your tooshie out the door... i'm hoping that september will stay for awhile, and not go by too quickly.

carry on xoxo tlc

i have been a bad, bad blogger...

do you know why? because i have a stupid little myspace account and i blog there... daily. for some reason or other, i can't be bothered to repost over here, or heaven forbid, formulate further thoughts that would necessitate an entirely new blog entry. i'm just not that brill.

today, however, i've noticed that i am one punchy little biyotch. and i either want to fight tigers for all of my friends, and demonstrate a little loyalty and valor (because sometimes i AM the man in the relationship, even with myself), or pick verbal battles with people because i know that i can win... or as my best friend K says 'make them cry'. not that i'm really a bad person and want to make anyone cry... i'm just in that sort of mood. my period, for those of you that would automatically assume that my testiness is generated out of ovarian overanalysis, is still a few weeks away.

it is raining like crazy today... and although i mourn the inevitable end of summer, i rather like wearing this sweater today, and sipping from this lovely cup of steaming tomato soup. if a grilled cheese sammich would magically appear in front of me, i'd swear i was dead and firmly implanted in heaven.

over the last few weeks, i have determined that i am officially a photographer. no more half-assed shrugs of my shoulders, or bashful responses to compliments. i am a photographer. and if you would like to hire me, you know where to find me.

in case you need some visual reference... here: www.flickr.com/photos/tdactyl
all monies earned in the next few months will go towards the completion of my website. i promise not to make your children cry while we're shooting.

carry on.

shmoop shmoop be boop de doop...

who the eff knows... whatever.

my dreams at night are usually the things of great adventure and romance, mystery and suspense, passion and idiocy. i can never be too certain when i wake up in the morning, if i'm remembering something that has actually happened, or if the mild bubbles of recognition are merely figments of my imagination.

so when i woke up mid slumber to the sound of thunder crashing and rain pounding at the windows and roof from all directions, watched as water gushed past my view horizontally, the sky lighting up with circadian flashes of brilliance, i forgot all about it by the time i'd fallen back asleep...mere moments later. i was only reminded of the occurence upon waking this morning, only to find that EVERY SUBWAY IN NEW YORK CITY HAD BEEN CLOSED DOWN DUE TO FLOODING. minus one train... that just happened to be the one that goes by my house. so after an hour of the hottest and most tightly packed subway cars ever, i made it into grand central station, and got to walk the ten blocks up to my office building. i've never seen so many confused and drenched and helpless looking people...and that's not even speaking of the tourists... the poor dears.

i have no idea why i took a shower this morning, because my sassy little outfit and hairdo were completely wet and crumpled by the time i got here... i have since toweled off and put on some workout shorts underneath my skirt to stop the friction from setting my body aflame, and this lovely iced coffee smiling at me from my desk, is the greatest thing EVER! EVAH!

lately i've been smattering my netflix queue (i swear i leave my house sometimes..ummm) with classic movies, and i've sort of found myself in love with doris day and have been watching all her movies. yesterday was the thrill of it all with james garner... i'm sorry but she is adorable and lovely and even the simplest and most stupid (and chauvinistic) storylines are made entertaining by her smile and challenging banter.

then i watched breach... and ryan phillipe is no longer good looking. he's gotten a little pudgy and really is just a bad actor. i haven't liked him in anything since playing by heart (which is one of my favorite movies of all time... mostly because jon stewart is in it), but that's neither here nor there. breach... is... disturbing, on a ton of levels, and mostly because it's about a true story/event. chris cooper is an amazing actor, that somehow is overlooked in general. i'm not necessarily going to recommend seeing it, but if you happen to, you should enjoy it... if you're breathing air in and out every day and aren't, in fact, dead.

i'm excited to go to the gym today... it's legs and tookus day. weeeeeeeeee!!

carry on xoxo tlc

i don’t even know what i’m talking about anymore...

i had one of those spiritual moments yester evening... well not 'spiritual' mind you, because i'm dead inside... perhaps the better word is peaceful. i'd gone down to the penn station area, to macy's to buy new sheets (like you all knew that i was doing) and decided to go to the gym that was nearby in herald towers. the gym is on the 25th floor (i hate long elevator rides) and a little smaller than the one i've been going to lately, but had all the amenities that i needed.

i kicked my ass again (god i love doing that) and decided to take my stretch and unwind time out on the balcony slash terrace. there is a wrap around deck at this location that overlooks all of midtown, you can see up sixth avenue all the way to central park, and in the other direction all the way through to the financial district. had it not been the muggiest day EVER, my zen-like experience would've been even greater. but i just stood there, doing my show off stretches (because even at almost-thirty i can still pull off some old school i'm a gymnast stretches) and watched the sun set. it was amazing.

i ended up reading something for work last night that referenced candida royale and her old school pro-women 'real side of women's experience' porn company, and because i was curious i researched on line a little bit and read what she was about. which led to me surfing porn sites for about an hour, which obviously led to diddle central... and then i was wide awake. there are really only two conclusions to diddle central (aka dating myself) or sex of any kind, for that matter: either wear me out so that i fall instantly asleep, or enjoy a few minutes of the festive, have the moment, and then find yourself wiiiiide awake and raring to go. i need someone else there to actually wear myself out ON, which is a shame in and of itself, but nonetheless... there i was at midnight... on my new sheets... awake as if the day was new. i might be the only one that has this problem... but there you go.

as i type this i notice that my arms are really sore today. i keep smacking into things and having a hard time lifting anything.... maybe i pushed myself a little too much at the gym last night, who knows. but that coupled with the start of p week today, has turned me into a massive clutz. massive.... bruises pop up out of nowhere as if cosmically willed to the surface. bygones.

i can't even remember what i was going to talk about today... this all just sort of fell out of my mouth like verbal vomit... how exciting for YOU really...

carry on

i went to order my twistie cone and i missed it...

i finally bit the bullet and switched gym memberships... i hated the work gym and the 20 bucks was a waste since i never went, so i decided to suck it up and pay twice as much for a new york sports club membership. for those not-knowers it's equivalent to a 24 hour fitness...ish. and i'm really happy with my decision.

all the equipment that i'm used to and love using is there, plus it's quite large and i can get lost in my anonymity if i want to... or i can rock out to my ipod and jazzercise while i climb stairs (which is more accurate...obviously).

i went three days in a row last week, and my abs are so sore that i can barely move my stomach... same goes for my inner thighs and my shoulder blades. woohooo!! now i remember why i was such a workout fanatic last year... because it feels really good. THAT's why.

i'm drinking water like it's my job and for some reason free food and baked goods are flowing around the office today like... some perfect placement of metaphor... it can be your choice.

i know that i haven't been blogging much lately, and it's mostly because i'm feeling private... like if i tell you all about the exciting things that have been happening to me, i'll wake up from a dream and they'll be gone. i had to do a lot of resting this weekend, but it was well worth it, as i woke up (still) with a huge grin on my face.

here's to all good things kids

in the blink of an eye, you could miss it...

i'm seeing all these great summertime pics of friends in seattle, out on boats on lake washington and looking all tan in bikinis... and i'm MISSING it.

i also ended up stopping by the "grocery store" by my house last night after the gym to get some veggies and what not, and ended up buying a few bags on chips. i got lightly salted and jalapeno... because i had a revelation while there... i miss tim's cascade potato chips. not gonna lie. the thought of having an entire bag of tim's cascade jalapeno potato chips sort of makes me feel tingly all over. whatever i bought last night did NOT compare. not i tell you... NOT.

there's a lot going on at work today... which you may or may not read about in the news over the next few days assuming all goes well. so i have to run... as fast as my sore little tooshie can carry me.

toodles

my library smells of rich mahogany...

i suppose we can call this a little trip into the recesses of my memory and imagination. last night after work i was certain that i'd get home and immediately fall asleep. not so my friends... not so.

i had a little date with myself, made tea, ate some edamame and watched movies... relaxing in bed. it was delightful. i love 'me' time. halfway through the first installment of george eliot's (BBC mini-series version) of Middlemarch, i found myself humming along with the background music. a man was playing the piano...and the tune was something that i remembered from childhood.

i had an old cassette tape of my old piano teacher (from when i was seven or eight) playing a rather long piece. i remember the slanted handwriting on the label of the cassette (i remember it because it was not my mother's)... i used to listen to this piece and dance around over and over and over again. i LOVED it. i have always been appreciative of classical music... but for me, this particular piece means so much more. it also means that very small pieces of my memory are still intact.

i called my mother to see if she knew what the name of it is... and she laughed and scoffed at me a little bit that i'd even remember it in the first place... and then she went in search of her old cassette tape collection in the garage. because if it's one thing i know... my mother keeps things. who knows if i'll ever find out what piano piece that was, but i certainly want to keep looking until i find it. too bad Middlemarch doesn't have a soundtrack (that i can find at least).

i am so, so weird. bygones.

carry on

i hope there's pudding...

i spent the entirety of saturday reading the 6th harry potter book again to get my memory up to speed for the unleashing of the final installment. i've basically been ignoring the news and online resources for any spoilers, because really, if i hear one person tell me ANYTHING that happens... i'm going to punch them in the face. this is not even in the same league as hearing the secret of the sixth sense (which was mildly annoying at the time)... i will literally punch you in the babymaker if you tell me something about this book.

i have it in hand... i shall be reading it tonight into the wee hours of the morning too, because there's no way that i'm putting it down once i start. i'm just that kind of reader.

i ignored everyone this weekend, and minus a brief visit from michelle on sunday, i spent the whole thing by myself. i wanted alone time spank you very much... and i took it.

go stick your nose in a book... it'll be good for you.

carry on

i'm on a roll, suckas...

i forgot to mention a random highlight of my night last night... at the alice smith show, after staring at the completely lesbian bass guitarist for most of the show (having one of those 'i swear i know her' moments), we were later told that they'd asked Meshell Ndegeocello to play. i'm sorry but i LOOOVED meshell back in the day, and jacob had no idea who the hell she was. oddly enough, rakesh forwarded me this article today:

http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2007/07/on-friday-i-too.html

had i known that i had musical access to this woman whilst living in new york, i'd be seeking out her gigs like boobies to a... well... man.

heather also turned me onto this blogger a while ago, and i admit that i'm just now getting around to perusing and LOVING what she has to say... her name is mimi smartypants (http://smartypants.diaryland.com/)... and this particular entry regarding her young daughter amuses me to no end:

NORA ON GENDER

Me [for no reason] Hey Nora, what's the difference between a boy and a girl?
Nora: A boy doesn't have a vagina. And boys are sometimes bigger, so sometimes they can't run so fast.

NORA ON SEXUAL ORIENTATION

She shows me a stenciled Apatosaurus that has been filled in with stripes of colored pencil. "Look at my rainbow dinosaur. Doesn't he look proud?

NORA ON GOAL SETTING

What currently knocks 'em dead on the preschool Comedy Hour is to add body parts to common nouns. Get in the car? Get in the EAR CAR! Ha ha ha ha ha! Get it? No? I guess you're not four years old.

Nora: When I grow up I'm going to make candy in a factory.
Me: Awesome. What kind of candy?
Nora [on the edge of cracking herself up]: KNEE CANDY! No wait, hair candy! [convulsive laughter] No, no, no, no, nose candy. I will make nose candy! Everyone will love my nose candy!
Me: People sure do love nose candy.
Nora: Yeah! They will say, "Do you have any more of that nose candy?" And I'll say, "Yes I do! Come on over!"
Me: You should probably have a cell phone, because sometimes people have some nose candy, and then they go out dancing, and then they want some more nose candy at like four in the morning.
Nora: What?
Me: Nothing.

---mimi smartypants is a long-necked plant-eating dinosaur from the Jurassic period.

carry on lovelies

i am standing...

whisper to the wall

as i wither, wither, wither.

and i wallow in the sound of footsteps walking away.

with my face pressed tight against this cold, crisp wall.

i can hear your heart...beating.

beating.

beating.

batting me down

below the barren bones

my body pulses.

picking just this poignant place

pretending to prepare for

perception.

pregnancy pauses alone and pressed against the wall.

this face, this cheek

this pelvis collapsed against everything.

i mold to it... to this wall and to you.

it is my anchor and you are fleeting,

as are my memories of emptiness.

they are forgotten

easily.

there is no wall.

i am standing... always.

if i could just go back... if i could rub everything out... starting with myself

my hip muscles are sore today... in a 'you had great sex last night' kind of a way... but there was no sex last night (or the night before that if you're on the two day to sore bandwagon) so it makes no sense. i'm trying to remember what kind of dreams i was having last night, b/c maybe i'm pregnant via imagination again, and was having a mid slumber imaginary boinkfest again. who knows. all i'm saying is that my hips are sore. in that good way.

they are testing the fire alarms in my building this week. so all week long we get to listen to someone yelling through the intercom 'THIS IS ONLY A TEST!!' (i must type in caps so you get the full effect) and then the droning and obnoxious 'uhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' noise for ten second stints at a time. uber annoying. and no one seems to care, the volume of their speech just gets a few decibals louder. i find this exceedingly amusing.

admission: all last week and part of this week i was a little cerfuffled by the loss of my new black bermuda shorts.. the wear to work kind, that i'd purchased whilst in L.A. a few weeks ago. i may have mentioned it, but i couldn't find them ANYWHERE and even called and texted jasean ninety times asking her to look in her laundry baskets and under her bed b/c i knew that i'd lost them. well yesterday i got to work and had a sudden moment of brilliance when i realized that i never bought black bermuda shorts whilst in LA... i bought black pants. and they are hanging safely in my closet. all this tells me, i am SERIOUSLY losing my mind.

but now i really want to go buy black bermuda shorts. ;)

carry on.