525,600 Minutes

How do you measure a year?

in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife,

in five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

how do you measure a year in a life?

its time now to sing out though the story never ends

let's celebrate remember a year in a life of friends

(It was musical night on American Idol, which prompted me to download songs from RENT.)

My boss just found out that one of her friends has leukemia. She's only in her thirties, and just got married last year. My boss ruminated on how it effected her profoundly because she now feels like an adult.

When Alison was here, there was a moment when we were talking about Winona, and I was talking about my responsibilities now that I'm working full time and all that, and I realized in that conversation that I AM AN ADULT.

Which is SOOO strange. And then I thought of all I've been through this year... which frankly is a crazy, messed up scheme of things. No wonder my body decided to freak out yesterday from stress. With all the pressure I'm putting on myself, being homeless in a month, I'm surprised I haven't jumped out a window. But I guess getting laid stopped me from doing that before. Now I turn to Broadway musicials, which any hard up gay man will tell you works.

Speaking of gay people, I think I got turned down for an apartment in Greenpoint on Saturday because I wasn't gay enough, which frankly is true. I was disappointed at first because the apartment was cool, but I knew it wasn't the right one for me. I'll know it when I get there. I'm looking at some great places this week - unlike THE GHETTO where I went on Sunday. I shouldn't have even bothered, but the girl was so nice on the phone I hated to stand her up. I literally walked a block out of the subway station and then right back in. It wasn't that I didn't see any other white women, because I did, but I just had a vibe to GET THE HELL OUT. So I did. And I turned down a cute place today because of that too - I don't want to live anywhere near Bed Stuy. No offense to the people that live there, but it's just not safe. Or what I feel is safe.

James & I went out on Sunday... which was really fun. We met at Grand Central and caught a cab to the village, where we went to a hideous restaurant/wine bar - which, by the way, I could have totally avoided by asking him if he was hungry, because we both were and could have gotten a MUCH better meal. Oh well. Mark it up for next time. Then we went to the Blue Note, sat through one set of jazz ($35 per person) and left because we couldn't talk. (They literally have a "quiet" policy. Screw that.) We went to Fat Black Pussycat and had a few and then he asked me if I wanted to sleep with him. Apparently the British don't have as many innuendos for sex.

Meg's British/American Dictionary for Sex Slang:

Snog/Make Out

Shag/Fuck

Fuck/Fuck (surprisingly)

sleep with/sleep next to

there are others, but I'm bored with this already.

James, leave your input. For once.

So I went back to the hotel, drank another bottle of wine that room service brought up (the guy called me MISS, the highlight of my evening, I love when waiters/servers do that. Especially to a drunk girl in some guy's hotel room at 1am on a Sunday.) with him and literally just slept. It was fantastic - but my hair the next morning was atrocious and J gave me cab fare. I have never felt more like Julia Roberts in my life. (think PRETTY WOMAN, not STEEL MAGNOLIAS, even though I was that sick the rest of the day.)

And yesterday was spent recovering, but the big news is that James is talking with some people about getting his same job in the States - in the NYC branch. I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Good, because that adds a friend to my list, but bad because we work really well on a see-you-once-every-two-months basis. He's really sweet and we get along fantastically - and I can't ignore how cute he is with the accent and all (even though he MUST grow his hair again. I hate how it looks now!!) and I would feel the need to date him. I know I wouldn't have to or anything but I would wnat to, and I don't know if that's the best idea. I would rather have a good guy friend that I'm attracted to than no friend at all.

But I did come up with the perfect sentence to describe my emotional state right now with sex: I'm too fucked up to fuck. Which is utterly true. So looks like I'm not getting any for a while. Jackie's got a two week bet on me and Todd - anyone else game?

Thanks to American Idol tonight (GO CARRIE!!!) Michelle & I are going to hunt down elusive $20 RENT tickets for this weekend. Who says Broadway's expensive? We just have to stalk the theatre.. maybe I'll see the guy who plays Mark. He's hot. Not that I need to meet any more men right now. Speaking of which, John doesn't want to call me b/c he feels old or just wanted to kiss me or something, and Diallo? who the fuck knows.