Playing Catchup

A short summary of what's happened over the past fifteen days:

1) I handed in my thesis and my final, and received a 4.0 at Pace as the grand award. Although I'll have a diploma showing my masters sometime this month, I'm actually more excited about getting my tuition reimbursement money.

2) NO MORE DRAMA is my new favorite song cuz my roommate (with some coaxing) moved out the weekend before last. I was so relieved when she was gone. When my new roomie gets her shit unpacked and we can redecorate with RENT and Bing Crosby posters, I'll be completely satisfied with the bad-vibe cleansing of the apartment.

3) I went home to Wisconsin and I: drove on a freeway turned ice rink; used the outhouse because a snowstorm knocked out the power; drank coffee with Poofy; drove my rental car about 700 miles; and enjoyed $1.75 drinks with Iseult, Ryan and his friend Brent and a truly dumb girl named Stacey.

4) I love my family, but I woke up in Wisconsin the day before I was supposed to leave thinking, "I want to go home." Even though I've lived here for over 2 years, I never felt that way before. Way to go me.


5) I saw DREAMGIRLS last night with Sharon & Jill at the Ziegfield--Ihighly reccomend both the movie and that particular theatre, since the ambiance is a perfect compliment.

Meg's Review of Dreamgirls: Unlike RENT, I didn't get the feeling of "I know these people" but instead I got chills from the geniune vocal performances, the civil rights angle in making the Dreams huge and the "can't they get sued for copyright infringement?" amazement for the musical totally knocking off Motown, and in particular, the Jackson Five.

Jamie Foxx made me forget he was Jamie Foxx and Eddie Murphy really can sing and this is the perfect part for him to make us forget about "Party all the time." But for me, the whole movie is about the ladies:

For all of her buzz, Jennifer Hudson really is terrific. But, unlike a lot of people, I LOVED Beyonce in this movie. She is a true talent: she proves she can actually act and tone down her amazing pipes. Simply put, when Deena stands up for herself, you love her. Although I loved Beyonce and Jennifer, my ultimate favorite was Anika Noni Rose---cute, spunky and a bystander to the drama, just like me (except I don't fuck Eddie Murphy). Definitely a must-see movie.

6) Work is up in the air. One of my editors is leaving and offered to take me with her. I'm not sure what to do, but I have to wait for the current editor-in-chief to tell me what opportunities I'll have in my current position. I've gone back and forth several times, almost making up my mind and then changing it right back. I drove myself nuts until I realized that I'm the luckiest mother fucker because I have TWO jobs to choose from. Duh!

So that's the summary. I have lots of stories, but this one remained at the top of my list so here's your comedic closing to a pretty long post:

My old roommate is still clearing some things out of our apartment. So she came in over the time I was gone and Pough was staying there, watching Jasper The Cat. I told him he could make himself at home.

Roommate calls me and says: "He really made himself at home. You'll freak when you see it."

I think she's being dramatic, so I shrug it off, "It's just a playstation.."

Then I get home to discover not only the playstation (on the floor!) but also: mismatched shoes strewn about the living room, half-eaten takeout in the fridge, laundry in a shopping bag in my bedroom, a partially made bed, and male toiletries on a desk in my room (including athlete's foot powder!).

I had a heart attack.

Even though I was exhausted, I ran around cleaning up and making the apartment look like a girl's again. The shoes got organized, the takeout was thrown away, the laundry was put next to my hamper, the bed was made, and I put the toiletries in his bag. Then I breathed easy and made myself comfy watching Tyra to get some estrogen back in the apartment.

Being the big mouth that I am, I told Pough about my freak out except I made it sound casual. He seemed concerned, and the next night he asked me if I wanted his set of keys back. "Nah," I said, "your apartment is closer than Sharon or Michelle, which is who I would give them to."

The commitment freak just gave a bit of her life away. But it's only fair--he cleaned up Jasper's poo for five days, after all. And got me JERSEY BOYS tickets for tomorrow.

I'm done!

At exactly 8am today, I turned in my last final for my masters.

NOW I deserve the flowers Pough gave me on Wednesday.

Thank God for David Sedaris

In August, I was on vacation in Wisconsin, camping in my favorite spot (Otter Lake) curled up reading David Sedaris' NAKED. And about halfway through, I stopped.

I wasn't laughing.

If you've ever read Sedaris you know he, like his sister Amy, is hilarious. And I was so out of it that I didn't laugh. Couldn't laugh. I realized that I had gone so far into a depression that it was changing my entire outlook. I made myself give up the ghost of Todd and whatever it was that was holding me down the next day.

Last night, I was reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and started laughing so hard I almost made myself choke. When I realized what had happened, I stopped reading and sent up a prayer.

"I'm back. I'm really back. Thank you. And thank God for David Sedaris."

I would truly be flattering myself if I thought this had any impact on Mr. Sedaris whatsoever, but like so many people, I love reading his words about his family and hope that someday I would be able to be a writer that's nearly half as funny about my own family (who will probably disdain me for writing their stories equally as much).

I want to thank all my friends for putting up with me. I have the best friends in the world here in the Big Apple, where I'm making even dreams I didn't know I had come true. Now they can bitch and moan to each other about how domestic and sappy I've become....

All my friends back in the Midwest know this Meg, so if you miss her call me. I miss you all too.

Snark on hold

At dinner last night with Kelly:
"I think I'm actually happy..."
K: "Well, the ranting posts have definitely gone down..."

Yes, people, they have. Because despite having a million social engagements getting in the way of laundry and other Things I Have To Do Before Wisconsin (including cleaning my entire apartment, moving out my current roomie and moving in a new one), I am happy. I have a wonderful boyfriend who thinks I'm gorgeous and treats me right.

He better watch out, because I'm already so smitten. I'm the girl with the pic of herself and her boyfriend on her cell phone wallpaper and the computer wallpaper for goddsakes. But at least they're different pictures.

On a completely different note, NYC is becoming small. I ran into our old copyrights girl from work yesterday at brunch, went into Sabon to buy product from a girlfriend who is working there for Xmas cash, and have run into random people on the street.

For good measure, see how cool I am at Josh & Josh. I seem to run into these guys a lot, even though we're just three people in a very big city. I feel like I should know them even though I don't. Maybe sometime we'll actually purposefully hang out. Can one become friends out of mutual blog-appreciation? Virtually no one reads this compared to their audience, but one can only hope.

Yesterday, Kelly & I went to the same event at elmo to see this girl from my high school perform. It was pretty random seeing her--not to mention having her introduce me to someone as "Shea's sister". I got the same feeling I always get when I see someone from Merrill in New York. It's a weird queasy feeling, but a kind of nice and cuddly sentiment from somewhere deep in my heart that loves acknowledging the past.

Fodder for Losers Like Me

There's been so much to blog about that I have no idea where to start. But since I have to leave for work in 10 minutes, I'll have to trim it down.

First off, I got a galley of a book called WHEN I WAS A LOSER: True Stories of (Barely) Surviving High School. Although I had to read it fast since my book club is reading it very soon, I haven't put it down since I started. It's terrific quasi-literary (which is my favorite label since true literary is pretentious as hell) essays from young-ish (30s) writers about theier high school experience and how it defined them. Highly reccomended.

I thought about writing my own essay here, but I can't in 10 (now 6) minutes. So look for that soon...

Also, I watched another episode of THE BIGGEST LOSER last night. That show always makes me cry. My own personal transformation wasn't nearly as drastic as ther participants or even that are inspired by the show's at-home component, but when they showed the high schoolers that the trainers inspired saying that this made them feel like a different person, I knew EXACTLY how they felt. It's not just being able to show off parts of your body that you used to hide, or being able to wear nearly everything. It's about confidence, and knowing that you can do anything when you put your mind to it.

I think that's why I feel connected to Pough. Even though I suspect I had to work harder to lose less weight, he used to be fat. Really fat. Triple chin in his drivers license photo fat. And, since he started dating me, he joined a gym. "I want to look as good naked as you do," he told me. I've never told him the truth: that I wouldn't have dated him if he was fat, but I think he suspects it with all my body issues. But I know why last season's finalists of BIGGEST LOSER married each other--no one understands than someone who's been there.

I've been a size six for over a year, but I didn't really feel comfortable in my own (new) skin until recently. I work out while I watch THE BIGGEST LOSER--because despite that I was never 200 lbs, I was one of them. And still am.

A Relaxed Weekend

Although I went out both Friday and Saturday nights, I had a terrific weekend. Friday, I went downtown to meet Pough and another member of the Po-Town Clan (his friends, who are all from Poughkeepsie) for dinner and drinks. Then we headed uptown to my girl Kelly's bday party at the Dublin House. It was great fun...and by midnight, Pough, the friend, and I were in a cab headed back up to the Heights.

On Saturday, Pough and I layed around for a while and then he had to leave to meet the friend downtown to go to Poughkeepsie (big surprise, huh?). Then I went for a run and sat around until it was time to go to Jody's holiday party. I was uncertain I would actually go all day on Saturday but I got my ass out to Astoria anyway....and had a blast!

I was drunk when I headed back into Manhattan but in the best way: relaxed and a bit sleepy. I blasted Beyonce and RENT to keep myself awake on the A and then on Sunday I woke up sans hangover because I made myself drink two glasses of water before passing out.

Yesterday, even though I should have gone downtown to Kmart for supplies, I sat on my ass. I went running, but otherwise I didn't leave the house. 20 text messages to Pough, my usual 60 Minutes-Amazing Race veg in front of the TV, and three hours spent on the phone with Lori & Poof later my weekend finished out.

This week I've got two drinks dates, two tipsheets due, some back cover copy to write, a date with Pough and a dinner. So who knows when I'll be back....since when did buying Christmas presents become the last thing I do during the holidays?

A great big smile

Although I always like people visiting, I always love when they are gone.

On Tuesday morning, I put Iseult in her car early (Harlem Cars always arrives super early) and proceeded to put on my Ipod headphones and walked to work. It was so enjoyable to ride the subway, be on my own and walking fast around Midtown...

Days like Tuesday remind me of just how much I love this city.

More posts soon....

A guilty confession

I hate tourists. Most New Yorkers disdain the appliqued-sweater-clad masses that invade our city from the flyover states but I truly hate them. I actually HIT one on purpose the other day who had done absolutely nothing.

I was super crabby. I spent three hours with Iseult on a Circle Line cruise that was cool but filled to the brim with tourists who had both fat children and a complete lack of knowledge about the city that wasn't in the typical tourist grid that travels between 8th and Park on the blocks between 40th and 50th street. Then we went to Top of the Rock, which was beautiful but had Empire State Bldg-like queues and general lack of organization, complete with screaming children. We did get some beautiful pictures, and I have to say that I really thought it was better than the Empire.

Still, though, no one will ever be able to drag me there again. So a super crabby Meg ensued and hit a fat and obnoxious person blocking her way on 49th & 5th. She called me a bitch and I got a feeling of satisfaction at elbowing her for no good reason other than that she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the crowd's way. I had to apologize to Iseult rather than the lady that I had been such a bitch for at least two hours....

And then we went into a store and I was cheered by shopping and realizing that I wasn't a large at Zara but a medium.

And then we proceeded to get very drunk for Iseult's bday with a guy from Illinois that I would have hit on had I not had Pough and a bunch of Brits that didn't seem to care that Iseult and I have boyfriends. All good fun, I swear!

So now we've become popular---tea with Sharon at the Tea Lounge and then I get to see Pough, and perhaps even my favorite couple, Mikey & Mishy.

AND I have Monday off! So absolutely no complaints from this girl---especially since we'll be in Bklyn all day and nowhere near the dreaded tourist grid.

Lekker! Iseult ben in mijn huis!

Yep. That's about as much Dutch as I remember. I probably conjugated the verb wrong too... but what it means is: YAY! Iseult is in my house!

My friend Iseult and I met when I lived down the hall from her boyfriend Ru in the fall of 2002, in Leiden, the Netherlands---a city of about 100,000.Iseult and I hung out often, and I loved going to visit Iseult's fam in Breda, a town in the southern part of the Netherlands, and kept in pretty good touch with her over the past four years.

So now the time has come for Iseult to be an exchange student---in Madison, Wisconsin! She's been there since August/September and is coming to Christmas at my house... but first she's making a pit stop here in the Big Apple.

It's so funny that I'm spending all of the fall American holidays with a Dutch girl. I'm nervous about seeing her because I only knew her for a few months and I know I've changed tremendously since then. I just have no idea what to expect, and for that I'm excited.

Plus, I can't wait for her to meet Darren and his roommates, my friends, and see her eyes light up when CHICAGO starts on Monday night.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Newness

Last night, Pough and I nearly broke up. But, as I tend to do, I told him the whole story. Everything about the guy back home (GBH), and how that wasn't going to happen. How I felt about GBH and how I felt about him (Pough). Then, as I do, I came to a conclusion.

"Maybe we've been too comfortable," I said, "perhaps we should remember that this is new." He agreed and we drunkenly walked back along President St in Brooklyn to his room. Then we undressed each other, something we only did once before. And then, something happened. The magic that wasn't there----was.

I'll leave something to the imagination, but today, on the train back to Manhattan Island (him going home to see Mom and me going to the apartment) we were cute. I called him "baby", we talked about his Mom (She's getting over a stroke and really wants to walk with his sister through her graduation in May) and I realized something when I got home tonight: I missed him.

Kelly & I went to BB King's tonight to see our author and I realized that I knew which jokes he would have laughed at, when he would have held my hand, and I knew.

This is my boyfriend. I ran into Ex From Work last night at a happy hour, and it was cooly distant. I found out from the grapevine that he made out with someone else. I just laughed. Everything is in focus: I've moved on.

I'm finally ready for something new---someone new, someone fabulous. Someone I like going to brunch with (Swiss cheese omelette for him, denver with cheddar for me) and someone I like talking to. I find his OCD tendancies funny, and I woke up this morning wanting to hold him a bit closer.

It's funny.... I was so ready to break up with him last week, and I'm really glad I gave him the chance both of us deserved. Because I needed this more than I thought. So as I quasi-drunkenly write this at 2am on Sunday morning, there's something I never thought I'd admit: I'm happy again.

And though I still feel the same way for GBH, and wish we could be together, and still love Todd, I like Pough. I like the way he smells in the morning, I like that I know his idiosyncracys and what he likes to drink (G&Ts, once in a while a rum and coke) and that his roommate gives me the nod. I'm settled.

And I'm happy. And whatever comes, I'm ready. It's startling.

Perhaps I've found someone as crazy as me. And perhaps not. But I'm once again willing to make a mistake.

That's fucking brilliant.

Flyover States

My best friends primarily live in what is deemed by some New Yorkers as "the flyover states". Often, I find myself defending the middle part of the country to my colleagues and friends. So when I finally succumbed to watching Studio 360 on Monday night, I cheered out loud when John Goodman, playing a small town judge in Nevada on the show, said:

"Please stop thinking that everyone that lives between Fifth Avenue and the Hollywood Bowl stepped out of the cast of Hee Haw."

Yet another reason to love Aaron Sorkin (Sports Night being #1 and West Wing being #2), but take in context: that day, in a particularly dead day at work, I saw not only a video about a DNR guy in Wisconsin claiming to have seen a Bigfoot but also one of a deer accidentally entering a Target store. Terrific job reporting the hard-hitting news courtesy of CNN (just click on "more offbeat video" to see these vids.

And when I called Poof to celebrate the Sorkin line (he's in the flyover state of WI) he was skinning a deer for his new side job as a taxidermist. Yep, a taxidermist.

So as much as I love to defend my home state of Wisconsin (we're more than just cheese, cows and the Packers after all), sometimes it does need some help.

Oh So Social

It's Friday morning, and I'm tuckered out. This week, I went to a Barenaked Ladies concert, a reading at a porn store, got hit on at the laundromat while doing twenty pounds of laundry, and attended a book launch party with an open bar and meat on skewers.

I'm staying in tonight. And then tomorrow I start my "Three Broadway Shows in Three Weeks" campaign with Evil Dead: The Musical. And then Monday there's a National Book Award event and then Tuesday there's Broadway show #2, Grey Gardens.....

Hopefully I didn't book myself up every weekday next week as well. And I thought dating Pough made me busy....

Meg's New York City Traditions

In the past two years, I've come up with a few New York annual traditions. The first, is of course, NOT to go to Times Square on New Years Eve. The second is to spend at least one, if not more, Summer Friday at a dark, dim and air conditioned-to-be-winter bar getting drunk at 2pm in the afternoon when it's brilliantly sunny and warm outside. And I always get wasted the night before Thanksgiving and then eat mail-ordered turkey the next day (that's one tradition).

And, no matter what, I'm a cheering spectator at the New York City Marathon. If you look at the post from last year, you know that the Marathon is significant because Todd has run it the past two years. A year ago today, I abandoned Chris and hunted Todd down. Today, I didn't see him.

I thought about Todd the entire time I was there (and this year, I was alone). I wasn't sure how I'd handle seeing him, if I would cheer or just watch him go by--would he smile, or--God forbid--stop? But I didn't have to answer those questions. I saw my co-worker run by, but not him. I watched for nearly two hours on Cat Hill in the park---but I also didn't see Mr. Lance Armstrong (who I actually did kind of want to see.)

But, all in all, it was a good experience to watch the race. As it always is, it's a sheer mass of humanity (see below) and I love getting behind random people, shouting out "Good Job Katie!" to women I don't know who are running past me.

I think the marathon means more to me than it does to most people. Maybe I'm wrong, but to me it's an example of normal people doing impossible things just by thinking they can. And one day, I'm going to attempt to run it, even though four blocks makes me huff and puff now. I've never really been a runner, but I've spent my entire life proving people wrong, whether I knew it or not. And I'd like to have a goal, like moving to New York was, that I can fantasize and work toward at the very same time.

Doctors told my parents that because of low postural tone, I'd never have good balance or coordination, soI would never be able to ride a bike, snap my fingers, or have normal athletic ability. But at 25 (partially because my parents never told me about this until I was in junior high), I can not only ride a bike but I can rollerblade twenty miles, walk six or seven miles in less than two hours, and am in the best shape of my friends. Mind you, I can't snap my fingers but I think that quirk, among others, makes me unique.

So, to make a long winded, tangent-filled blog entry a bit shorter, the marathon reminds me to look back at everything I've accomplished. All I wanted to do today was go to the race, maybe see Todd, definitely yell for Clancy and walk out of the park, not stop to look for T, and get on the train home. I accomplished that today.

It took a long time, but I have separated Todd from every other guy in my heart. Although I still love Todd and think of him everyday, he's in a portion deep down that I imagine is like a locked box. On Marathon Day, I open that box and take a peek and allow myself to wonder "what if". And then I get back on the train, and go back to reality.

Clapping alongside the runners on Marathon Day represents all the gratitude and pride I feel for what I've accomplished and signifies what challenges I (or anyone) can take on and make happen in the future. All it takes to make it is faith and determination. I have faith, I have determination. And one day, that will be me running, with random people yelling "Go Meg" as I stumble by.

Besides, where else can you feel like the Pied Piper, leading a bunch of Gucci-clad women who are arguing about whether or not to follow you through the twisty, turny paths of The Ramble (taking longer, of course, to get out of Central Park than it would to watch the entire marathon on TV). This is why I love New York.

Postscript: While I was waiting for this post to upload, I went online to see what Clancy and Todd' s times were. It appears that Todd didn't run the marathon at all. I'm not really sure what to think about that. Maybe it's a sign that I will never see him again--but does it matter? Probably not. I'll leave my questions in that box.

I'd whore out my mother...

For some great floral arrangements.

I got these from Pough last night on our weekly Wednesday date (it's always the night we are both free usually. I don't think it's coincidentially the dead middle of the week.)

But now, I wonder if he's doomed. The Friday-Flowers guy (Chris) was doomed, my English boy who got me flowers to console me when T dumped me is married (fine by me, but still) and T himself is in that group of those men who were brave enough to give me flowers. But this, like Chris and unlike T, was just for being me. And I think he really loved the look of shock on my face when I looked up from texting Mishy and was like, "holy shit?! are those for me?"

And I didn't even notice that there were twelve until I got home. Now that's a boy worth cleaning out the cat box for before he spends the night.

An Open Letter to my NPR neighbors

I wake up at approximately 7am every morning, but I don't need your alarm, set to NPR loud enough to hear but not loud enough so I can hear news while I'm lying in bed. Now, I get up and make noise and turn the radio up pretty loud from about 7-8am while I'm getting ready.

But last weekend, when I was up waiting for my cat to be delivered on Saturday at the ungodly weekend hour of 7am, I couldn't excuse your NPR alarm going off for an hour with the murmurs of Weekend Edition seeping through your floor and my ceiling. Especially since I can't understand the news.

So between you stompers and the people in the basement apartment next door (who share an air shaft with our building) who insist on bringing their yippie yappie dogs outside at 6:30am with their small children yelping in chorus-type fashion every morning AND who installed a series of wind chimes which we can hear with closed windows and the TV on, I decided that I am not going to bang on the ceiling every morning for a week (because then I'd have to turn down my radio) or scream "People are sleeping, you motherfucking idiots! No one has WIND CHIMES in the city!" (Because the kids and the dogs, despite my best efforts, really are cute. And because the little family did a good job of cleaning up their half of the air shaft.)

So instead I'll sulk in my apartment, cursing the wind chimes and struggling to hear Morning Edition through parque floors.

I'll be back I promise

I still don't know how my October got so busy. Well I do in a way---putting off my thesis for two months, dating Pough out of nowhere and seeing him at least twice a week, developing new friendships and discovering that my dance card really is full.

Today I had a major breakthrough at work--which I'm going to celebrate with a glass of wine that Poofy sent me all the way from Wisconsin. A toast to what will be... and how much better I'll feel after the New Year, when school will be over and my loan repayment has not yet kicked in.

Watch for Snow White on the A train around 8pm on Saturday....Pough is my woodsman that I will meet in Brooklyn, somewhere around Carroll Street. Sigh. Everything is coming together and yet I'm still unsettled. It may because I ate an entire pound of chicken about an hour ago.

Tequila Talking

Instead of talking about the new boy and thereby condemning a potential relationship with someone who knows what I talk about when I tell him that you can tell the age of a Beatles poster by how tired George looks, I'm totally coping this meme from www.jennslyvania.com - go out and buy Jen's book, Bitter is the New Black today!!

* * *
I'M AMAZED…
that while I workout every day, I can barely lift my new cat. He's a fatty.
I DOUBT…
that Tony LaRussa wears those sunglasses for a reason. I think he's trying to be cool Corey Hart-style.
I CAN’T SEE…
why anyone ever, or still, watches Survivor
I WANT TO BEAT WITH A SOCKFULL OF QUARTERS…
Women that think wearing a varietal of colors, patterns and textures that do not match counts as being "funky" in New York. Funky is ugly no matter what, chica.
I'M ADDICTED…
to chocolate covered peanuts and raisins. They masquerade as healthy...to me. Perhaps not to my tummy and ass, though.....
I FEEL BAD…
that I don't listen to my roommate's problems anymore. There's just SO many, and they always change, and they exhaust me. No wonder she sleeps so much
I WATCH…
Grey's Anatomy despite that my leading man, T.R. Knight, is gayer than a rainbow flag at an Indigo Girls Concert. First my cousin Josh, now him. So disappointing that it's not the 17th or 18th or even early 19th Century when we ladies could have married homosexuals and then just had affairs with our servant men for thirty years while the guys go off to get off in a field somewhere hunting.
I LISTEN…
See below for another blatant copy from a cooler blog than this.
IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS…
I'd do lots of things, including Sean Watkins.
I WANT…
The situation in Darfur to be OVER. What can we actually do other than go to Savedarfur.com and cry while watching 60 Minutes?
I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT…
Cigarettes and coffee, just like Rufus Wainwright
I'M OBSESSED…
with RENT. I can't get over it, although my attention span finally waned when my friends & I went to see Le Boheme at City Opera last Friday and were not impressed. (Their Roger also sucked, just like the one that's on Broadway now).
I THINK CHILDREN…
are fucking annoying, unless we are talking about little Asian girls or cute African-American children. White kids always look dirtier for some reason. Maybe because dirt shows on Caucasian skin, or they look like they are about to attend a wedding if they are dressed up even remotely. I know it's horribly un-PC of me, but ethnic kids truly are cuter.
I CAN’T WAIT…
‘til KIDS INCORPORATED is released on DVD, watching Fergie rock AquaNet bangs and IS white, cornrows and weaves nearly twenty years later (now) not withstanding....
I'M PROUD…
that I'm not as slutty as I used to be.
I HAVE A DREAM…
someday I'll be married to someone important. Like a third string football player. (Please. I know my own limits. I have no problem riding on someone else's financial shirttails.)
I ALWAYS WEAR…
My blinged out rings that my mom gives me everytime I go home. Now that she's past her mom's jewelery and on to her own, I always think of one component that they always mention on the suicide warning Oprah show: if the person starts giving away important, personal possessions....
I FEAR…
That I'm not in the right job. And what George W. Bush will do when he's out of office. I have a feeling he has more evil to do.
I WISH…
for celebrity culture to go AWAY already.
I ONCE ACCIDENTALLY…
threw a log and a teacup as a child IN TWO SEPARATE INCIDENTS, resulting in my brother not having a full eyebrow on one side and being unable to grow a mustache.
I NEVER…
admit to listening to New Kids on the Block. (oh shit)
I’D KILL TO…
I was going to say save my friends and/or family, but that's a dumb answer, isn't it? I'd kill to have enough money that I'd never have to worry about money again. Seems like I should have been born 10 years earlier and begun a career at Enron.
I MISS…
being able to scream really loud to express anger. There's nowhere you can do that in the city without getting arrested, an abundant amount of attention, or beocming depressed by the fact that no one cares.
I'M LOATHE TO ADMIT…
that I don't know as much about music as I pretend to. I do know a lot, but a lot of times its fibbing, guessing, or just simply avoiding the question that makes everyone think I know so much.
I’LL NEVER FORGIVE…

I'm going to die

I have, this week:

1) A manuscript-sized stack of thesis research and a draft due the first weekend of November;
2) Plans to go costume hunting with Sharon & Pough this week after work;
3) The Mets all died up in the National League Finals---Game 5 tonight and a date for Game 6 on Wednesday with Pough;
4) Six, count em, SIX tipsheets due at work on Tuesday which my bosses will likely ignore today and make me run around like a crazy person tomorrow;
5) A midterm due on Sunday;
6) Dates with my gals for the opera and a party in the Slope next weekend.

I'm tired just looking at the list. Needless to say I won't be blogging.

But I will be kissing the Pough. It's a good life, I must say. The whole working on the weekend thing is NOT cool, though.

He Likes Me, He Really Likes Me

On Friday, my girl Sharon and I went out to Alphabet City and I was "on fuego" as one of my lady friends says. I met this guy from Poughkeepsie and made out with a bunch of randoms (at another bar, so Pough knows nothing). I always have a superfun time with Sharon, so I'm excited to spend a couple more weekend nights on barstools with her.

But to the main part of my story: I went on Sunday afternoon park date with Pough and then we went out again last night. We drank and ate last night, which was good, and we discussed the Mets, which we're both big fans of.

Now, I know the boy likes me thanks to the truth serum that is alcoholic cider. The fact that we're going out again on Friday is a great sign, although I think I'm going to have to cut off the three-times-a-week thing because I frankly don't have time to write my thesis AND date him that much. So, a little about Pough: has great real estate in Carroll Gardens, so if I was his gf I'd get to spend a lot of time in my fave part of Brooklyn; he has a good job that he just got promoted at and won't let me pay for anything; I would totally run the relationship but he wouldn't let me walk all over him.

Hmmm.... but yet, something tells me that this guy may not be for me but that I still gotta give him a chance. He could be like Todd in that I didn't really like him....until I did.

But until I do, I have a drinks date on Friday as well!

Let's Go Mets

Every year in April, the city is tagged with "Maybe this year could be it" signs for the underdog Mets. And every year in October Mets fans listen to the Yanks fanatics gloat about their legacy for the ubiquitious money team. But this year, things are different.

This year, the Mets are going to make it. Or at least they've made it past the Yanks. My teams are going 2-1 right now: even though the Twins barely made the playoffs and were expectedly swept, they made it, which I wouldn't have predicted at all during the regular season. And now my Mets are doing the best I've seen them since I moved here.

Now if only the Packers could actually catch what my man Favre throws, I'd be a satisfied sports fan. But I'll have to settle for not worrying about him getting killed because his offensive line are idiots.

God Kicks My Ass

So today when I got off of work I was feeling stressed and stifled. Every morning for the past couple days, I haven't wanted to get out of bed.

It seemed like my whole life, with exception of my friends, was questionable: did I really want to work where I do? Should I move back home and give the one-who-got-away a real chance? Why does my roommate swing on the crazy pendulum EVERY freaking day?

But then I got home, watched the Mets WIN as I worked out and then switched over to the Channel 55 rerun of Oprah. She had a few teens on that had tried to kill themselves (in pretty gruesome ways) who managed to survive. I was reminded of my very own thwarted attempt of taking an entire bottle of Advil, back in the 7th grade. I could only think of how proud twelve-year-old Meghan would have been of this 25 year old lady crying on her couch in New York City (although the clincher would have been that the Ipod was invented, I (she?) am/was a size six and had good hair most of the time.)

So, what I realized that even if my roommate is crazy, it's a temporary situation--we've clearly lived together too long, and I'll probably love her more when I move out. My job is lovely, but I AM in the pits of knowing what I'm doing but not being able to execute it yet. No one is in the position I'm in of my friends, so I'm stuck commiserating with people who haven't had their idealism pulled out from underneath them.

As far as Mr. Right but Not Right Now goes, I have to count my blessings: he really, really cares about me and will never leave me again, no matter where I live. I can call him whenever I want to vent or drink on the phone, and I love falling asleep to his voice. He truly knows me--how many people can you say that about?

Plus, I've got cigarettes, a bottle of Baileys and only one more day of work before I can go to the park when everybody else is clacking away in the halls of my never-actually-named workplace. Not really all that bad, is it?

That being said, I really do believe in God on days like this. Not that I don't every single day, but He certainly knows how to kick your ass into perspective. I wonder if he has ASSISTANTS to do this kind of handiwork....because clearly others (ahem, roommate, people in the Sudan, GWBush...) need more guidance most days than I do.

An Essay at Starbucks

This week, two friends from high school came into the city. I haven't hung out with them since 1998, and I wasn't sure why. We went out to eat Monday night after they arrived, and I quickly realized why--my faction of friends were the drinkers.

True to my adored Malcolm Gladwell, we had a connector--Damien--who linked the two groups together. I had just become friends with him in the spring of 1998, and at first I was drawn to Group A (where my visiting friends fall) and only moved over to Group B when I discovered my soon-to-be-ex-boyf-turned-best-friend Poof there, and the more dangerous-yet-appealing white trash Daley clan.

That's when my drinking started, with bottles of Zima and Sour Apple Pucker, and I began to realize who I am--and who I'm not. When I was sitting with the two from Group A on Monday the other night, I realized that it's not just the drinking that separates us but an entire lifestyle.

Don't get me wrong--I don't feel superior and I still enjoy their company. I'm certainly not going to deny them when they try to be my friend on Myspace. But I'm not likely to have marathon phone conversations with them, either, like I do *still* with Poof. I'll actually be fine if I don' t see them for another eight years, actually.

It seems like all we had in common WAS high school. All my life, I've worried about fitting in. But this time, I'm happy I don't. Their world (and the world of Merrill Senior High) is foreign to me and always has been. And not like the way New York or Holland were foreign when I first moved here (and there). I simply can't understand the rules and customs of their life: what's its like to be divorced from your high school sweetheart, or run your own business. What it's like to be them.

I'm glad to feel different for nothing else than just being myself. My roommate commented on Tuesday, "What do you DO with straight-edge people, anyway?"
I admitted that I had no idea and then took contentment in that someone else mirrored the ideas that occur in my wine-and-beer swilling, big-city brain.

Maybe I'm not so foreign to myself after all.

I wrote this on Tuesday and revised it on Friday. This was one of those instances where I had to ask the Starbucks staff for a pen because I HAD to write. Maybe I am destined to be an author after all.......

Baby I'm Amazed

I spent nearly 10 hours at work today. And read (for work) on the train ride home. Sometimes I wonder if being an English professor somewhere in the Midwest would give me a respite from this type of long work day. I decided quickly it would NOT be, given that I'd have to go to school for another three or four years, teach English 101 classes for five or six and then maybe get tenure when I'm 45 and be able to take a sabbatical (this is if I started now).

I've been thinking a lot about choices. My new philsophy is that choices and free will determine your life, with scraps of faith, luck and fate intervening intermittently. I choose to get up and work everyday; I chose to be obsessed with Todd for a year; I choose to let people walk all over me; I choose to feel bad about myself for reasons no one would suspect.

I'm also choosing purposely not to go back-- leave NYC, become a professor and dive into trying out a love with the one that could have been. Because I choose to let him love me. If he does, he'll come. He may even just show up at my door one day.

A girl can dream, can't she? I'm not exactly waiting for John Cusack here. He can snore so loud I once heard it OUTSIDE my apartment building, 10 feet away. He's so picky I want to kill him when he tells me what's in his fridge (New York's culinary delights, burgers excepted, will be lost on him). But he does call me to rescue me from my everyday doldrums and tells me that a particular song by Wings reminds him of me.

He reminds me of everything I am, everything I've been and everything I could be. But I've learned to live without him, too....hopefully even when he marries some lucky bitch and procreates, he'll still be my very best friend.

My twin..... if I had a penis, ate Ramen every night, had a completely amazing record collection, liked Nickelback (ugh! Except the new song, that's good) and knew there was a hunting season in effect nearly every day in America.

Chuck Klosterman Is Right

Where, exactly, did this weekend go? Friday night I was bored, so I went out on an unexpected Craiglist date that lasted until Saturday morning. (Apparently, according to Steve (Lori's fiancee) I need to stop taking men home if I want them to call me. I'm going to try that, I really am.)

Then Saturday went by in a blur after a friend called. She had an argument with her boyfriend and didn't know if this was the end, or if it's just really a huge fight. So I stayed with her, figuring things out for a long time. We sat at Columbus Circle for easily two hours, just talking about our lives.

It's funny, but I never realized HOW over Todd I am until I started talking to her about how long I wasn't myself, how long I grieved for a relationship that really wasn't there. She had her own little breakthrough last night, so hopefully she won't be stuck as long as I was. But I'll be there because she was there for me.

All women want a guy that will come after them if they walk away crying or upset. We all want someone to rescue us---but there is no Robin Hood, no John Cusack standing in their parents' yard with a boombox. For me there is only a eighteen year old boy who drove a four-wheeler ten miles to see me. And nearly eight years later, I wonder why I didn't believe in that.

Now I do, but now it's too late. In SEX DRUGS AND COCOA PUFFS, Chuck Klosterman was right---our generation always wants John Cusack in romantic relationships.

Unfortunately, while we're holding SAY ANYTHING in such high esteem, we don't realize when our version of The Geek from SIXTEEN CANDLES or our personal Duckie from PRETTY IN PINK is sitting right next to us.

Poor, Poor Audrey

Does anyone else find it disturbing that the Gap is using Audrey Hepburn to promote black Tshirts?

I do --- but my usually populist self says that if it gets one fourteen-year-old girl to watch FUNNY GIRL, SABRINA, or ROMAN HOLIDAY (pretty much anything but BREAKFAST AT TIFFANYS) her heirs did a good deed.

That being said, I don't think Audrey Hepburn ever wore skinny jeans.

http://www.gap.com/browse/category.do?cid=18569&mlink=5058,622653,1&clink=622653

I Like Redemption.....

Thanks to the rain last week, I have been reading ALOT of books. Probably at least 3 or 4 since last Friday. My last book was THE SECRET LIFE OF BEES by Sue Monk Kidd--a good book that substantiates my claim that a large number of bestselling fiction (that's not a mystery or a thriller) is either a coming-of-age story and/or a novel that tells a tale of redemption.

I like redemption. It reminds me of how human everyone can be, and I think it reminds readers that their fuck-ups are probably not as bad as they possibly could be (at least I didn't accidentally shoot my mother like Lily in BEES, for example).

But as I listen to Gladys Knight and the Pips, debating whether or not two of my close friends are just busy or if they're mad at me (could it be paranoia, or is it real?) I am struck by the realization that redemption, and VALIDATION is really what everyone's looking for in life.

I get validated by people liking me, wanting to spend time with me. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's not good either. I've spent most of my adult life examining the causes of my major hangup, but now I think its time to figure out a solution.

So, in my arsenal, two recent bestsellers: THE MEMORY KEEPER'S DAUGHTER by Kim Edwards and THE HISTORY OF LOVE by Nicole Krauss. MEMORY KEEPER even includes "redemptive" in its back cover copy.

The last piece is ME vs ME, a chick lit novel about a girl who has to choose between a comfortable life at home and a dream job in the big city. Hmmm...

Navel-gazing much, Meg?

My Lost Twin!!!

Finally, a reason why I like Amanda Bynes so much:



I usually get a young Signourney Weaver, or sometimes Pink... and when my hair was cut like her, Sarah McLachlan. But I like Amanda so, so much better.... How this site EVER got the Asian lady, I have no idea.

Surprisingly though, I could be the sister of Faith Hill or Jenna Elfman.

The things you discover when you're at home on a Friday night.

At Home...

Bowling: My New Family Thanksgiving, Since No One is Home for Thanksgiving Anymore: Find pictures of my super-special fam at www.flickr.com/photos/meginnyc

I've been home in New York now for almost a week. I worked my ass off making up for the time I missed on top of doing my normal work. Hence the lack of blog postings.

I fell asleep at 4pm this afternoon, an unlikely event. I don't have any plans for this weekend since the remains of Ernesto made everyone want to stay in. I'm glad that the deluges of rain are happening this weekend, because I've got a stack of reading to do for work as well.

I could talk about how Kelly and I stalked celebrities from her window on Thursday watching the VMA Red Carpet (we saw everybody good I think, from Beyonce to Christina Aguilera to Diddy and Nick Lachey) but that's not the real story of what's going on with me.

I'm having troubles cutting my ties at home. I miss my friends, and my family. I guess I'll never know what would have happened if I had stayed in the Midwest. Would I have fallen in love with My Mr. Right by now? Or would I have regretted not living out my dream to live here?

I did adore work this week and loved my life sans Jackie in my Manhattan apartment. Maybe an entire weekend of doing nothing will help clear my head.

Big & Rich

I returned today from the hinterlands of Wisconsin into the city. As usual, I was sad to leave but happy to return. I was actually really looking forward to getting back into everyday NYC life once I boarded the plane to Chicago.........

Luckily I was too tired to be mad that my second flight from Chi-town to the Big Apple was delayed almost an hour, or that I was sitting next to two possible white Christians on a jihad (what other reason can you give to explain two devout religious newspaper-and-magazine carrying Catholics teaching themselves Arabic?).

I was tired because I attended my cousin Rooney's (Ryan) wedding and danced my butt off to, among other things, Big and Rich. I used to hate this country duo for being gimmicky, but then I really got into dancing to them, and now that "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" has been in my head for about 24 hours, I'm a fan. The blonde in me also just realized the pun of their band name. They are named Big & Rich.... and they ARE big.. and rich. Ha ha ha. Plus, I'm sick of Brooks & Dunn always winning the "best duo" award at the CMAs...

While I was home, I rebonded with my friend Poofy, who I adore as always, and saw him nearly as much as my parents. I also bowled a 115 game, ran into old friends from high school (3 Merrill weddings in a Wausau bowling alley complex leads to a lot of hugs from high school friends who double as distant relatives---usually by marriage thank god---I ran into five high school friends at the wedding reception venue alone, two of which are ex-girlfriends of Poof's, ironically) and smoked more cigarettes than I care to admit.

Alison gave me a talking to when we were camping and made a drunk Meg cry. I also had a few heart-to-hearts with my mom....which all led to a much needed car-on-the-side-of-the road-sobbing epiphany that helped me break the fever of my Todd obsession. Getting a little action in Wisconsin also helped..... not that I can really repeat it or make a relationship out of it (as much as I would want to), but it was a very enjoyable and moving experience (if making out can ever be moving, I did it on Friday night).

With my upcoming 150 plus emails to deal with at work tomorrow, I'm making it an early night. But hopefully we'll have pics to show on flickr soon.

Am I Crazy?

It's been nearly a year since I last saw my ex-boyfriend Todd; nearly six months since I last spoke to him (and he pissed me off). But I still think of him everyday, which does two things for me: #1, certifies to me that I really did love him or at least the idea of him and #2: makes me feel lonely or crazy.

So am I lonely? Sure, I haven't met anyone I've connected with in a while, and I haven't had a second date situation since Berger. That's a long time for me. But my life is filled with work and new friends, so I can't complain too much.

But am I crazy? Not coping, not normal? That's what I can't decide. Did I just love Todd that much, or am I just holding on to a memory because I've got nothing else to replace it?

I always sympathized with the characters in novels that had to step back for days, months, years before getting back into life. But this is the first time I've ever sporadically cried about someone for just LOSING someone (with my other two major exes, there was other things: I just didn't love them as much as they loved me, and they were staying in the Midwest). But now that I AM one of those characters, I have to wonder how long this will last.

My good date from last week never called to schedule another one; I was a little surprised, but not truly upset. Am I damaged goods now, or just not capable of starting something with a little emotion and stability?

Since I moved to NYC, I've gained a lot of experience, friends, and although this is totally cliche-personal growth. But I've lost so many things - a ton of friends, a connection to the physicalness of my family and a certain level of confidence that no matter what, everything will be alright. Don't get me wrong---I still, and always will, have faith---but it's a lot more faith-based than evidenciary right now. And I think that's affecting me and how people see me.

So as usual, I'll be contemplating my life as I board the plane to Wisconsin and when I stare into the fire at night camping. How much easier this would all be if Todd was beside me again, giving me a plan and faith in love. It's so much heavier of a burden to carry yourself. But I must keep my perspective: he wasn't ready to love me, so even if he tried his best (something I have to believe) our relationship would have failed anyway.

And, also as usual, I'll take comfort in my Ipod and my mom's breakfast bar with coffee and cigarettes and the routine of her life. Get up around 6 or 7, work until 11, watch Y & R, eat toast, go back to work. Maybe when I partake in my aunt Wendy's sweat lodge I'll have a magical vision that will show me what to do. Maybe I'll meet the love of my life.

Maybe I'll come back just as confused, but having spent a week in love with my home, my past and my friends. (And getting drunk).

I really shouldn't get this melancholy in the morning.

A Tirade Against Bikers (the Bicycle Kind, not the Harley Kind)

Like 50 Cent before me, I've got a beef.

Yesterday was beautiful---sunny, barely 80 degrees and essentially all around wonderful outside. I went rollerblading before D's birthday party on the west side through Riverside Park, Fort Washington Park and the "cherry walk" --the path between the two around the 100s.

I got back FRUSTRATED as hell. I had almost cussed out two men on bikes. Now let me just say that I don't have a problem with "Bikers". The people that are out every day, or at least weekly, wearing their spandex? Fine. They, like the rest of us that are out on the paths frequently, know how to handle their business.

HOWEVER, the TRUE Weekend Warriors are the tourists of the recreational paths. Yesterday, I ran into several of them. So this message is for them:

I'm on rollerblades. If you aren't aware, these have considerably smaller wheels than a typical bike does. Whereas you have two different sets of brakes, I only have one. On one foot. While you can put your legs down to stop, I can't. I only have my hands and my ass.

Bikes can plow through virtually anything, including but not limited to: sand, gravel, grass, broken glass and water. All of these things are vast hazards to the typical rollerblader. We have to stop, or at least slow down, when these hazards come up. Meanwhile, you can plow through virtually anything as long as there's not nails involved.

I'm speaking generally, of course, but here is a typical situation: The path is not even as wide as the 1 train. Coming towards me, two bikers on non-racing bikes (which are wider than racing bikes) riding next to each other on the path. I can hear that there's a biker behind me that doesn't want to slow down, and there's a hazard to my right. What do I do? Typically I either motion the biker to the right, or slow down a bit and give dirty looks to the double bikers.

Yesterday, there was a DOOZY of a hazard to my right, and a minor one in front of me. I slowed down to pass the bikers and then went briefly left to get around the hazard. A biker (previously behind me) came around gave me a dirty look. He wasn't in workout clothes, so I KNEW he was a weekend warrior. I just gave him a dirty look back and fumed for the next mile.

What I should have done (channeling 50): Skate up to him fast and a) bitchslap him (unlikely) or b) go up to him and school him about rollerblading and how he should probably workout outside more often than when its perfect weather (slightly more probable) or c) mutter asshole under my breath (what actually happened).

Okay. I'm breathing again. My rage towards bikers goes way back to the paths of my college town, but they're bad here. You think people would figure out the general rules of the Loop or paths like it, but they don't.

In other news:

I met a new boy last weekend that seems promising. He's going out of town pretty much every weekend so hopefully we can meet up again this week before I go to Wisconsin.

I met the most AWESOME girl in publishing who's exactly like me only a little shorter and black. I love her. She brought me to the best bar ever out on the Hudson Piers and I'm SOOO going back.

I discovered I embarrass easily about newcomers to NYC. I'm not sure why, but I resent their temporary stays. But I'm jealous of it too-I wish I had a career and a potential boyfriend waiting for me at home.

Has anyone else noticed that there are an abundant amount of Europeans in the city lately?

For whatever reason, I've been sleeping in lately. Could it be the weather (Finally comfy to sleep) or just that I'm lazy and tired?!?!?

In case I don't get to write again, I'm heading home on the 19th for a week. I'll try to blog on the farm (or at least before then) but it may be sporadic.............

Oh, and cheers to the author who encouraged me to write somewhere other than the blog. I may try that.

The $400 Bar Tab

Friday night I went out with the bloggers again and got so raging drunk that I ran up a $400 bar tab. Here's how:

1. Three mojitos at dinner: $18
2. Buying drinks at random Alphabet City dive & Beauty Bar: $20
3. Buying Polly & ActorSerf a round at Yogi's uptown: $15
4. Replacing lost Ipod an hour after I discovered I lost it (with accessories): $350.

I'm such a dumbass. I believe that my drunk ass didn't notice that it fell out of the bag when I switched out of the bronze Steve Maddens into flip flops. I blame the Maddens.

Instead of punishing myself by waiting to buy a new one, I immediately went out and bought a new Ipod at the closest Best Buy, and felt much improved when I had it in my hands. I only had to endure two train rides without it.

I don't know whether to be depressed or impressed by the Ipod's takeover of my life. As my roommate put it, it affects everything - from my workouts to how I listen to music.

I wonder if Apple was aware that for our generation, the Ipod changed everything.

Newbies and Feeling Old

This might be TMI, but I always think of good blog entries in the bathroom. And like writing good copy in my head, it gets lost among the other thoughts running around. So this is bits and pieces from my toilet. I should get a laptop. I bet my blog entries would improve.

Lately, I've felt a bit OLD. A new girl started at work following the exodus of employees and she's two years younger than me, but seems a million years younger. We went to lunch and her discussions of boys were frankly sophomoric. Even my prime editorial friend, who's a year younger, seems young when the three of us are together. Why do I suddenly feel so old??

It could be the gray hair starting to appear, or that for the first time in my life, the majority of my friends are older than I am by at least 2 years. Mishy & Berger are both in their 30s and they're my core audience here. Perhaps I got mature and didn't notice it?

But, like Courtney was my little sis in Winona, I will find my new protegee to school in all things NYC including where you can dance on the bar, how to do the subway ride of shame with pride and the priceless art of mocking areas like Williamsburg and the Lower East Side while secretly loving how ridiculous the hipsters and the Westchester class reunions are. I met three young self-proclaimed dorks slash new transplants that seem awesome because a) they admit to being both dorks and new transplants just like I did when I first moved here and b) they blog and want to join our little blog community. So I'm going out with them on Saturday to see if we mesh enough for me to be their (alcoholic) tour guide.

I love my blogger girls (and boys) that I've met through friends and blogs. They're SOOO much fun and they make me feel cooler just by being around them. And, unlike most of my friends, they haven't heard my stories yet, so they're still relatively entertained. It's very, very refreshing not to know someone that well and still be discovering all their stories too.

Now, the backtrack.

I went to the Jersey shore (apparently the scummy, white trash part) on Sunday with Kelly and Shawna, and it was a blast! I didn't get burned but they did (literally - Kelly stayed home from work on Monday). It felt awesome to learn how to jump waves and be okay with wanting a wave to crash over my head (I have a deathly fear of being underwater). Plus, those are two fun girls who know how to relax, eat a massive amount of food at Perkins and blast country music (and talk about how old George Strait must be). I want to rent another car and go to the Shore again, but may have to settle for Coney because the summer is getting oh, so short.

In more serious news, the roomie and I went out last night. She told me in no certain terms that she won't let me sublet my room out to a stranger. So, excepting a rare situation, I won't be able to move out of the Heights before my lease is up in May. I told her I'm going to start looking in Feb or March to get a headstart.

But I've reconciled it as much in my head, especially since we agreed to get kitties. I miss my cat, Sam, SOOO much! He was really nice to come home to, and vent to, and have something that will always love you because you feed it.

It was good to see roomie as a friend, outside of the two bedroom apt we share that gets too small sometimes. Because of the heat, she hasn't been home in about a week (and I'm totally spoiled by having all this space to myself) but I think it will be better when she does come home. Hopefully.

Other cool moments since the last blog:

1. I got traditionally asked out at a bar. The guy actually said, "I'd like to take you out sometime, if that's okay with you..." And of course, it was. Let's see if he calls.

2. Lori, the best friend in Mich, gave me awesome advice. I told her that I had had a dream about Todd and it really shook me up (it was about how he wanted to get back together with me). All she could say was that "the L word really messes with your head, doesn't it?" It gave me some validation that she believes that I love him and was in love with him. I think sometimes my friends underestimate how hard I fell for Todd and how much it affected my daily life for, um, the past YEAR? But I think I'm ready to get out there again.... in a real way, not a replacement hunt. A very empowering feeling.

3. Thanks to a fucking town in Jersey that didn't have an open gas station at 10:30 pm on Sunday and made us late to drop off the rental car, I got to drive through Times Square on 42nd street BLASTING "Not Ready to Make Nice" by the Dixie Chicks. It was extremely therapeutic. Now if I can only get to a place to smash bottles off a cliff and scream as loud and as long as I want, I might get rid of more tension.............. (the Minnesota therapy for pent up emotion and general anger).

This weekend I'll be partying and exercising (seriously, my only plans) so if you don't hear from me, look out for a girl in an awesome wrap dress. Who will flash you if a stiff wind comes up.

Living the Life You Want

I think I've been writing too much self-help back cover copy.

I'm on a kick where I'm trying to go after the life I want, not the life I'm living. What does that mean? Well, it means that tomorrow I'm going to go to my bosses' boss and ask her for more work. It also means that I'm planning to budget my ass off so that I can get a new apartment when I'm ready to move out. Because I need to live alone.

I had a taste of it this weekend when my roommate was conspiciously absent during Courtney's visit. It was lovely and I want my Winona single, living alone life back. Lonely though it may be, I don't have to worry about people smoking pot in my apartment, or my roommate coming in drunk late at night. It's because of my roommate specifically AND not because of her at all. I think its a potent combination of the two, but I know what's best for me is to wait until the end of summer and then really start hunting on the move. Since moving involves both the dreaded NYC search, pissing off my roomie AND breaking a lease, I'm not too keen on doing it. But I do want a home of my own. And a cat. So, I'm going to try to save $$$ (something I'm horrible about) and plan for it. It's my next big goal.

Courtney came to visit this past weekend, and it was great having her here. I met her my last year in undergrad, and I love her to death. She was a freshman when I was a senior, and now she's freshly 21 and despite being a light drinker, bars have not lost their appeal. We did everything from the Mets, RENT and the Empire State Building to Little Italy, the Harlem Book Fair and the White Horse Tavern. She & Berger hit it off, and of course Kelly loved her as well. I was sooo exhausted that I was still tired today!

I talked to an old friend last night, and it put my life in perspective a bit. I miss my old friends, family and people who really know me so desperately that I think my present situation is suffering.

But at the same time, I know I have a better head on my shoulders than I did a year ago, or two years ago. Since I've thought alot recently about what I really, really want --and have decided on it (an associate editor position, a good boyfriend and an apartment and cat of my own WITH cable) I feel like I can finally move on, and go after it no holds barred.

Plus, I've spoken my mind lately. There have been weird consequences, but the more I concentrate on it the more I think it's just part of growing up. My friend last night said, "It sounds like you're doing the same thing. Chasing after boys with a better job." He was right, but he was also wrong. Boys (or men) are a relatively small point in my life since I haven't found one I like in a while and probably won't be ready for one until I meet someone cool, special and wonderful enough....for now, I'm happy to go out, have fun, and make lasting friendships like the ones I treasure back in the Mighty Midwest.

Be gone, toxic elements........

4 Queers Down, 1 to go

Today, outside of work, I saw Jai Rodriguez (sans pretty eye makeup.)

So, between my friends & I, we're only missing one Queer Guy. The roundup:

1. Fellow blogger & Mnpls friend Kiddo (see my link on the right) eye-flirted with Thom at a gay club in Dallas when he was there on business.

2. Aryanna, my classmate at Pace, spotted Kyan last year at the former D'Agostino (sp?) grocery store on Henry St. in Brooklyn Heights.

3. Jackie, my esteemed roomie, saw Carson Kressley somehow... I don't remember the circumstances.

So now, all we have left is Ted........

On to more important things, work is going to be interesting and crazy but opportunities abound right now which is good, the roomie situation is back on an even keel, and I made new friends (see previous comments). AND, to answer Avenue Elle's question..... I DID make it all the way from 181 to the Battery AND back up to 34th Street on Sunday skating... even gracing 34th Street with my presence on blades. I got props from a homeless guy and I've decided that I look cuter on blades than I do walking AND the men are cuter along the Hudson.

So, I will be repeating that (but not that I crashed into a fence in Riverside Park trying to negotiate some crazy hill-ridden boundaries. No injuries.....)

And, thanks for the comments, y'all. Keep them coming, they help my ever-suffering self esteem (or at least inflate my ego.)

A Week of Epic Proportions

This past week, both my professional and personal life has been an absolute rollercoaster.

As said in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA, when your professional life goes well your personal life turns to shit. While Andy loses her best friend (Tracie Thoms, yay!) and boyfriend, I meanwhile had a raging fight with my roommate. The fight was really insignificant when taken as an individual event, but when you add the context of our relationship for the past six months, its really the crescendo, the point of no return.

So I won't be returning to our previous state of close friendship. I'm keeping my ears open to new apartments, but also changing my attitude towards her. I'm just going to distance myself slowly.... I can't be making any more 1am calls to Ryan, Lori and Jason in order to calm myself enough to go to sleep. And I'm pretty sure my friends are sick of my tirades.

I'm drawing on previous experiences like this where I turned to my other friends and exercise to pull me away from the toxic elements in my life and I'll be sure to do that again.

So on to the professional life. We basically had an exodus of both senior and asst-level people last week, which puts me in a really bad and a great position at the same time. The really bad part is that I'll have to train all these people and negotiate who of my pub friends to reccomend for the job. BUT the good part is that I'm the most senior assistant in the department, which means that I'll be the first one up for a promotion and the first to inherit books. It's a happy, happy day for me. I've been strategizing what I want to do in terms of asking for more work, so we shall see. Apparently 9 hours a day at work is not enough for me. But if its going to be over a hundred next week, I'll gladly SLEEP at Rock Center.

BUT there are bright sides to my personal life: Kelly and I are getting closer which I LOVE because she's fascinating to me and I adore her. Also, I met some fabulous bloggers through Dolly again and am totally psyched about finding two of those ladies because I think we could be friends outside of these little meetings.

My friend Courtney is coming on Thursday, so next weekend will be extremely busy. I'm TOTALLY psyched and can't wait to show her off at Harlem Book Fair next Saturday....alas, though, it is time to beat the heat on my quest to rollerblade from 181st street to battery park.

In Love, Again

I first fell in love with Nickel Creek a few years ago when I saw their show at the Basilica Festival in St. Paul..... it was the only concert where I've RUN back and forth to the porta-potty as to not miss any of the show.

So of course I became obsessed with their backlist and side projects. The band is Chris Thile (mandolin), Sara Watkins (fiddle) and Sean Watkins (guitar). Sean & Sara are brother and sister-all of them sing.

I fell in LOVE with Sean's solo album 26 Miles and have done the same with his latest, blinders on. I absolutely adore it.

Here are lyrics from my two favorite songs:
what if you thought you saw a ghost
a hundred times a day
what if the thing you wanted most
was impossible to say
(from Run Away Girl)

from hello...goodbye:

She came up and said hello
my name is kate and i liked your show
and there was nothing i could say
but thanks come again
she didn't know
that we got married in my head
there were christmases and dogs
and our kids' hair was red
and as years flew by i gazed into her eyes
and said goodbye

Since this is how I react to most men I really really like (especially in casual encounters that I'll never have again) Sean once again read my mind. I'm embarrassed to admit that's how I felt about him, too (at the Fine Line Show in Minneapolis, Aug 04.)

Too bad I can't use it on him the next time Nickel Creek comes to NYC.
Check out his website http://www.seanwatkins.com - you can download the whole CD or just my favorite song.