Archive | March, 2012

Its Only TUESDAY!

27 Mar

I realized today its been a while since I posted and that is unacceptable!

I also realized that in just over a month I will be in Vegas with the love of my life (TOGA). Shortly after that adventure I will go to Phoenix to see LP. You know its going to be a good time when you get into a city on the day of prayer, leave on Nurses’ Day and get to celebrate Cinco de Mayo in the middle.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how things change. Life goes by in the blink of an eye. The people that you spend the majority of your time with one day, you barely speak to the next. Shit happens. Lately, I’m assuming because of my age, its been graduation, marriage, babies, moving, jobs…

I feel that I have gotten bitter and cynical because I keep putting in the effort, while everyone else moves on without me.

This has lead me to two conclusions…one, some people never gave a real shit in the first place, two, some people are even more selfish than I am.

I realize that these are both negative assumptions, and maybe its just life getting in the way, but I travel across the world to see the people I care about, and once I allow you into my life I care about you forever. People leave an imprint on my heart and I find it hard to just let that go.

I guess we’re all wired differently, I just wish I didn’t feel so disposable.

But enough with the negative, I choose to dwell on the positive, and soon enough I will get a chance to be with two of my favorite people in the whole world and that had made this Tuesday exciting and worthwhile. My advice of the day: keep the ones you care about close to your heart, because you ever know how much time you will get to have with them.

Magic….the gathering…and dismantling

7 Mar

I was going to write a post about the card game magic…

Then I decided just to post this video and put a short, vague reasoning under it.

I got into this game for a bit due in large part to Sammie, HB, and Sloth. Before this summer it had never been more than a concept I didn’t understand and only nerds played. I stand by the fact that mostly its nerds that play (myself, being a closet nerd, included), but its not half bad. DON’T EVER VENTURE INTO THEIR WORLD, but playing the game is ok (I’d post a link to my friends one blog post I actually got to read to reinforce that point, but I only have it in am email).

PS this Alex Day kid is not only hilarious and adorable, but talented as well.

Three-for-one deal here!! Did someone say 3-way?

6 Mar

This post is pointless, you shouldn’t read it.

I just realized I posted two in one day, I had intended to wait until midnight so that wouldn’t be the case, but my fingers do things I tell them not to sometimes.

Then I was one away from the net random goal wordpress invented for me, so I though what the hell!!

This song is playing on my spotify and it seems appropriate…

I could tell you stories of narcissistic ponies or fire-eating centipedes and do something useful with this post, but its been a long Monday and I’m sure any logical thoughts would disintegrate into gibberish at this point so I think I’ll spare you promise to make up for this travesty later.

And then I found five dollars.

Online Dating: A better fishing pole, or just a smaller, more desperate pond?

6 Mar

I go back and forth a lot on the concept of online dating sites. I admit I have been through the gambit. Being single for 4+ years leads to moments of intense weakness where society has wriggled its tentacles into your brain and made you believe you have a tumor in your emotional quadrant which can only be fixed by huddling under the covers in your dark room frantically describing every aspect that makes you you in under 500 characters. When I reach these low points, I have thrown any glimmer of shame out the window and respond to pretty much anyone who emails me, convincing myself that they only LOOK like a creeper, and they were nervous when they typed, “…and love mutilating rabid baby chickens in my basement after a night staring down women’s shirts,” trying to be funny or something.

It often doesn’t take long to realize what I have done and yell obscenities at society for trying to brainwash me again, but really more because I’m mad at myself for tempting fate again. It really is a miracle I haven’t been murdered or sodomized yet.

We all know the people that have found their one true love on a website, gotten married, had babies, lived, for better or worse, happily ever after. Then why is it every time I get to the point I decide maybe I could be one of those people, the only guys that email me are either shy and desperate or pot smoking losers living in their mom’s basement with three kids by three different women (yeah, that ACTUALLY happened). Where is my knight in shining armor dammit!!

I do in fact prefer meeting people organically. The problem is, this is not the fad anymore. Since graduating college, the only ways I actually meet new people are through friends, or at bars. The bar scene is not ideal as drunk generally=horny and music=grinding. This equation more often than not leads to awkward make out session and/or hook ups or a phone number exchange in which the guy tries to get in my sober pants the next day (cause THAT’s gonna happen). My conclusion is that bars do not equal intimacy, reality, or sincerity.

The mutual friends equation generally hosts better results, but can also end in more awkwardness than kicking your one night stand to the curb. Friends of your friends stick around and you often end up bumping into them on occasion unexpectedly after it is decided (mutually or otherwise) that its not going to work. Then, when you cycle through all of them you have to go make new friends so you can have more options to chose from again.

What do you do then, I ponder, when you want to meet new people, avoid awkward post-break off encounters, and not get a drink spilled on you when some drunk dick builds up the semen to ask for your number? Online dating website of course.

In the interests of full disclosure, I will now admit that I recently decided to begin this arduous sojourn once again when LP told me she had had a bit of luck. Thinking of it now, I suppose she ALWAYS has a bit of luck in her back pocket that I never seem to share. Its been about a week since I started fishing and have fallen into the same rut. One or two have peeked my interest, but I’m concerned that it won’t stick for obvious reasons. The excitement has already worn off, doubt has taken root, and I’m getting that negative feeling in my gut.

I guess I’ll update when necessary…I just wanted to analyze a bit. I feel like I have not been given proper choices, so I guess I wanted to bitch a little too.

LP and I were talking about this a minute ago and her response: “You can’t win if you don’t play the game…its like the lottery!”

Idiots in Love – A case study of Wizard and Sammie

5 Mar

** I wrote this post in two parts. The first I started a few months back when I wasn’t in a very good place about the ordeal. Since then things are a bit more settled, less strings are left untied, and I have found a place of acceptance for what things are…here goes.

I don’t know what it is about love, but I have met very few people that are able to be smart about it. The mix of hormones, endorphins, flowery language, and finally having our narcissistic need for attention met creates a dangerous melting pot that, if we aren’t careful, can quickly turn from the warm fuzzies to singeing self-deprecation. I can only truthfully say I have been in love once. Mini-romances and minor flirtations aside, real, honest love, is life-consuming. It takes up every waking thought, seeps into every minute detail, until you have formulated a life in which you are constantly waiting for those next precious moments to be shared with the person you have made your end-all-be-all. Then when it ends, you physically feel an empty chasm in your chest that makes everything seem dark until you can fill it with brick and mortar and swear to yourself you will never let yourself fall so easily into the delirium again. Only, we always do, and most of us do it willingly.

You would think a woman would be the reason this procession of thought has come upon me. And although I will freely admit I see this train crash of amorous events happen more often in the land of estrogen, today’s homily on the pitfalls of affection sprouts specifically from the male half of a couple I have taken nearly a year to observe and (as I often do) analyze. For the sake of this case study and to maintain confidentiality, we’ll name them Wizard and Sammie.

Sammie, who also happens to be my estranged roommate (which may explain any negative bias I may have, although I promise to at least try to stay neutral), had been Wizard’s girlfriend for six years (with a short break a couple years back if I remember the story properly). Recently, approximately six weeks ago, they called a “break” in their relationship. This of course crushed Wizard who, despite explanation, did not truly understand the reasoning behind this turn of events. I of course know both sides given my situation, but from his perspective, he was told Sammie needed to work on herself and that she could not do that within the bounds of a relationship.

In the background, Sammie was trying to deal with her guilt around having feelings for another man, “Sloth,” whom she had met the previous year briefly, but then over the summer, had seen socially on multiple occasions. Sloth did not have a flattering reputation within the group, but he had certain skills which the other gentlemen he hung out with valued if I understand it correctly. Sammie and Sloth had an instant connection and began spending time together more privately. I bet you can already see where this is going, especially when I mention that sobriety was not always a factor in their dalliances.

One thing led to another and Sammie was dealing with the guilt of kissing, rather heatedly, Sloth when she called the break between her and Wizard. Being “single” and dealing with confusing feelings towards Sloth only increased the ante leading to a scandalous affair of both the heart and the flesh (despite the pledge Wizard had made to never return to her if she so much as touched another man while they were separated).

I hope you are beginning to see my pickle. Being the roommate, I was privy to information no one else could know and sworn to secrecy, but being Wizard’s friend made it difficult to balance a neutral stance while being supportive. Not to mention the complication of remaining in contact with Sloth. He was a conundrum I was determined to unravel.

I have never claimed to be perfect, nor will I ever hold hope of being so. Maybe in a way chronicling this tale for you is my way of trying to find redemption. Whatever the case, after nearly a month my conscience and my loyalty were stretched to their limits. My head was full to bursting with information I had to very carefully navigate in conversations with the three players in this game. Over and over again Sammie sealed our conversations with vows of secrecy. I complied, not because I believed what she was doing was honorable, mostly I detested it, but I cared for her and we do foolish things for our friends. That is until we reach our breaking point.

A football game, apparently, was mine. The beer in mason jars more than likely didn’t help matters. I met up with Wizard and Mr. Big in Foxboro to watch our beloved Patriots at Toby Keith’s. Mr. Big was feeling generous and bought me several rounds of drinks during the course of the game. We were having a great time and the party didn’t end when the game did. Long, somewhat embarrassing, story short, the night ended with me and Wizard sobering up in my car, not silently. For most of the night I had avoided the Sammie conversation, but alone, in such close proximity, with my friend in need, I couldn’t help myself when he introduced the subject.

Put yourself in my shoes for a moment and look through my alcohol-clouded eyes. My friend, sitting in the car, heart in pieces, talking about his semi-ex-girlfriend and how much he loves her and hopes that he can find a way to stay with her. He trusts her, he tells me she’s told him everything, and even though it hurts, he’s just happy she hasn’t slept with this other guy. I know differently, and at first, its easy to let him believe this girl is being truthful because his heart is already hurting too much. But he keeps talking and something sets me off. I start thinking how deceitful this whole thing is, how despicable I feel for hiding the truth, for letting him believe she is worth his time. How do you care so much about someone, and hurt them so completely?

Before I know it, the words are escaping my lips and then they are there, out in the world. “You know she’s sleeping with him right?” Wizard just looks at me, and as he processes this information, I see his facial expression change from shock, to confusion, to rage. It’s the last one that scares me a little, makes me realize the chain reaction I have just put into motion. He jumps from the car, slams the door, and begins dialing. I know who he’s calling and I start to chase after him, I just want to fix it somehow, but he’s walking so fast and I can hear his voice rising. I know its too late, regret floods my mind, and I sink to the pavement as the tears start rolling down my face.

I don’t know how long I sat there, not long, but long enough to loose sight of Wizard. I start to run around Patriots’ Place, looking anywhere I can of where he might have gone. My phone is dead and I’m sure I look a little crazed when I finally decide to go back to my car. I wait. He parked near me so I figure he has to come back eventually. Again, I lost track of time, but eventually, I saw him, walking laboriously across the parking lot. I don’t know what words we exchange or how we said good bye, but I do remember him telling me he talked to her, how enraged he was, confusion tingeing every word he said.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

It’s been a few months since that moment. The drive home was filled with doubt and I began questioning myself, analyzing every minute leading up to that one. The series of events that followed were a shit storm of dramatic soliloquies, awkward tension, and the breakdown of trust. Sammie and I found a way to recover after that first blow to our friendship, but a short time later, another situation, related, but ancillary, shattered it permanently. I am too ashamed still to divulge the details. I take the blame for it wholeheartedly, but no amount of penitence can make up for it in her mind. We almost amended the situation at one point about a month ago, but I quickly realized the surface bond was not strong enough to rebuild the bulk of the structure back up. I may not be perfect, but she is a child sometimes, and in the interim of our breakdown, I think I realized some things I had overlooked. Roommates we remain, but civility is not always a constant in our world any longer.

As for Wizard, he remains the victim of the tale, but his naivety has since dissolved my empathy. He is still chasing after a dream I don’t think he realizes should be left to rest, but he’s in “love.” Sammie got just what she wanted, the ability to chase after other men, while still having her backup plan.

I’m not really sure how to end this without sounding bitter and disillusioned. Love is wonderful and sustaining when its healthy and mutual, but how often do we pervert it, fake it, or try to force it into our own little mold? Romance clouds our minds, but love isn’t logical either. How do we let our heart fly free when we might loose our heads in the process? To every risk there is a consequence, and pain sometimes walks hand-in-hand with pleasure. I guess I’m just hoping I can learn to walk the tightrope before I take my next leap of faith.

Sometimes I get drunk and write, well, stuff like this

4 Mar

I decided to write  post.

I don’t really know what its about yet, I figure that would materialize as I started writing.

It didn’t.

So now I’m just writing.

**Read this the next day, laughed at myself, thought others might laugh at me too.

Then I wanted to add something to make it slightly more interesting. So I took a picture of my wardrobe project that I wrote about before.

Update on that: the door is attached!!! Sloth came over (I’m beginning to feel guilty that is his codename, to do: consider changing to something cooler) last night and helped me put it on before I beat his ass in Battleshots (epic game, but word of advice use a sissy liquor). Problem – the bottom hinge is dysfunctional and refuses to cooperate. It wants to be like its siblings, but knows it belongs in a special place out in the country where it can live a life off the grid and running free.

Poor broken hinge…maybe we’ll fix you with ducktape, or gorilla glue.

The Wardrobe

3 Mar

Funny story, I wrote the title to this blog and then laughed because our nic name for our apartment is “Narnia.” Someone named it that on foursquare and it kind of just stuck since its so maze-like.

Anyway, sidetrack (I feel like that may happen again), but the goal here is to tell the story of my wardrobe adventure. However, being slightly drunk and having skrillex playing in the background is not helping my concentration at all.

Lets attempt this though. My story begins a few weeks ago when one of my roommates decided to move out. It is customary in our apartment to offer up your room to the other roommates when you leave. We all pay the same amount, but the rooms are not equally sized. The one leaving had been there the longest and, therefore, had the largest room, while I still had the smallest room. No one else wanted the now vacant bedroom, but, being fairly lazy, I debated the decision to leave my accustomed habitat. Plus, now empty room’s closet was in the hallway…I’m a girl, clothes are important!

After much deliberation, I finally moved. That in itself is not an entertaining story, but amusing to envision since it took me the majority of a Tuesday night. Twirly hallway+weak white girl+key heavy objects begin pushed down the hall=one hell of a show+obscenities.

This happened a couple weeks ago. I decided I could manage having the hall closet if I could find a wardrobe for my room which could hold necessities. Being broke made this more of a challenge so there has been LOTS of craigslist surfing.

FINALLY I found THE PERFECT wardrobe. It had a bar, shelves, drawers, and it was only $30!! PLUS, the girl said she could break it down into pieces so it could fit in my car instead of me having to bribe someone with a larger vehicle. (Skittles=great for mpg, bad for transport of large objects).

Then it got tricky.

I went to Brookline (LOVE BOSTON!), the girl was nice enough to help me load it into my car, and I drove off with a smile on my face…SO EXCITED!!! I was farily confident I could do this on my own being the strong independent young girl that I am. Hell, I did P90X biotches!

Getting home took some of the fire out of my determination, rush hour traffic can do that to you. But I made it and I even found a spot in 15 minute parking in front of my door. The plan was to get all the pieces in the lobby and then drag them up the four loooooong flights of stairs to my apartment. This worked out well until about the third trip, My biceps were ON FIRE! Particle board is fucking heavy! However, I was DETERMINED DAMN IT!!! Finally, with muscles screaming and head spinning (since I’m so out of shape and 5 trips up and down four flights it exhausting), every last bit was in my room and waiting for construction.

Too bad I had to go.

I scarfed the quickest dinner I could find and then was out the door because I promised a client I would go see her play. For middle schoolers, they did pretty good, but the whole time I was dreaming of the finished product.

Around 10:30 I was finally home, armed with a box of wine (yeah we’re broke enough for the boxes), and determined as a fat kid waiting for cake to get this done. That’s when the mayhem ensued.

Building a wardrobe reckless-style:

Step 1: Pour first glass of wine.

Step 2: organize pieces (and thank God previous owner was as addicted to sticky notes as you are)

Step 3: screw on bottom thingies.

Step 4: have a dance party for accomplishing so much!!

Step 5: get back to work and spend 17 minutes getting next piece attached (begin wondering why you didn’t ask someone to help)

Step 6: finish glass of wine

Step 7: stare at project, wonder if it will ever be done

Step 8-10: somehow get two sides and top together (during this process it may be helpful to scream obscenities and curse your roommates for having lives and not being around on a Friday night to help you put together this shit)

Step 11: pour more wine, drink

Step 12: debate whether a back is really necessary, decide it is, but decide to move on to the next step anyway

Step 13: shelves? really!? Fuck screws

Step 14: drink more wine

Step 15: DON’T HAMMER YOUR FINGER!!!!!!!

Step 16: Fuck step 16

Step 17: Aren’t we done yet??

Step 18: Ok somehow you have gotten most of the piece of shit together, except the door, you’ve gotten this far, time to ge this shit done!

Step 19: drop door on foot

Step 20: google how to put Ikea hinges together…realize this is a pointless task that is just leading to further frustration

Step 21: get on knees, praise God for the creation of alcohol

Step 22: give up on door, OBVIOUSLY this task is intended for a sober person, more than one drunk person, or a person with seven arms and telekinesis

Step 23: cry a little then deny it to anyone who asks

Step 24: give up, push wardrobe into corner, forget door until morning

Step 25: drink more wine so your failure matters less

And that has been my night. With the addition of random video chats with Vermont peeps more drunk than me.

Updates to come later….maybe.