I admit it. What happened to Imette St. Guillen scared me a bit. Not enough to make me stop going out alone, or compromise my life in any way, but it was certainly more than enough to give me pause.
It hit home when I read Anna Quindlen's editorial in NEWSWEEK this week. You can read it here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11785818/site/newsweek/.
This article, more than anything, talks about how we are a faceless society. Now, we can wound each other without having to see what we're doing to someone else. This is certainly true for the blog; its easier to make commentary on my friends from behind a computer screen than to their faces. While I pride myself on being honest and only saying things I would tell my friends, sometimes that does slip and I'll say something that, when I think about it later, was pretty careless.
What Quindlen approaches in this essay, among other things, is why women actually go out. She says they are looking for "someone who will see them across a field of restaurant tables, really see them. In a society that has too often become isolating and inhuman, they're looking for that one face in the crowd. Maybe everyone is."
Isn't that why we came to the city anyway? At least us transplants do. More opportunity doesn't just mean more jobs, better money and culture. It also means more people that may be like us when we've felt isolated and alone at home in smaller places. Crimes like St. Guillen's happen in rural areas too (IN COLD BLOOD, anyone?) but the cities are often held up as dangerous because it happens here too and everyone knows about it in the whole country rather than just the county.
What I wanted to say on behalf of Imette and especially her friends, I'm sorry you had to be the ones who had to pay. I know that most of us twentysomethings leave our friends at the bar or let them leave with someone thinking that they will be hungover and at least have a good story to tell the next day. All I thought about with Imette was what her friends must have left on her voicemail. I'm sorry for them especially.
On a selfish note to end this otherwise concientious blog, I hope that my friends and I will never have to feel that dread when your friend can't be found.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Amusement for Hours
With winning advertisements like "Got Herpes? Me too (47 - North Jersey) who can compete with Craigslist for sheer amusement?
Most of the people are crazy, but it's pretty much the same gamble as meeting someone at a bar. After all, I met Chris on CL and didn't die. Danielle met her boyfriend there too and he's awesome.
Since I seem to be striking out in finding dates otherwise, I think I'll stick to meandering the personals online and being happy I'm not 47 in North Jersey with herpes. Because really, what does that guy have going for him? (I know, he's got a GREAT personality.)
I'm actually sticking to my self-imposed hiatus... which isn't really a hiatus as much as a "I'm going to try to slow things down with boys" effort. I met two great guys on Thursday and Saturday and didn't really follow up with either of them because frankly, I didn't like them THAT much. There's no point in getting hurt about someone that you're not crazy about, right?
That and dating friends of friends is like dating people where you work: don't shit where you eat. Oh... that really works for me, now doesn't it?
Most of the people are crazy, but it's pretty much the same gamble as meeting someone at a bar. After all, I met Chris on CL and didn't die. Danielle met her boyfriend there too and he's awesome.
Since I seem to be striking out in finding dates otherwise, I think I'll stick to meandering the personals online and being happy I'm not 47 in North Jersey with herpes. Because really, what does that guy have going for him? (I know, he's got a GREAT personality.)
I'm actually sticking to my self-imposed hiatus... which isn't really a hiatus as much as a "I'm going to try to slow things down with boys" effort. I met two great guys on Thursday and Saturday and didn't really follow up with either of them because frankly, I didn't like them THAT much. There's no point in getting hurt about someone that you're not crazy about, right?
That and dating friends of friends is like dating people where you work: don't shit where you eat. Oh... that really works for me, now doesn't it?
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
"I'm a Coat?" - American Idol commentary
It must be that I'm getting older, but this show is getting old to me (finally). But this year the contestants are more interesting than the last two years (Fantasia? Overrated version of Macy Gray, who was a one hit wonder to begin with, at least in the pop arena) and Carrie Underwood (who I like but had absolutely no competition).
Then my roomie springs the Clay Aiken sexuality question. As a devout Clay fan (I bought the first album,saw the Idol concert that year in St. Paul AND booed Ruben), I said I didn't want to guess.
Me: If he's gay then he's definitely still in closet. But if he's straight... then he's still in the closet too.
Roomie: Maybe he's asexual (halfway to the kitchen, she says) -- maybe he's a hermaphrodite.
Me: (gaping silence)
Roomie (in kitchen, nearly shouting): What? That's legitmate! (Walks back in) After all, Jamie Lee Curtis rocks it...
Between that and Kellie Pickler STILL not getting why Simon Cowell called her a "minx" (She apparently heard minx, as in the subject header today), it was a great Idol.
My roommate and I decided on 2 things, which is rare for us in any circumstance: #1. We'd definitely make out with Katharine McFee;
#2. Elliott Yamin's ears make him HOT.
Then my roomie springs the Clay Aiken sexuality question. As a devout Clay fan (I bought the first album,saw the Idol concert that year in St. Paul AND booed Ruben), I said I didn't want to guess.
Me: If he's gay then he's definitely still in closet. But if he's straight... then he's still in the closet too.
Roomie: Maybe he's asexual (halfway to the kitchen, she says) -- maybe he's a hermaphrodite.
Me: (gaping silence)
Roomie (in kitchen, nearly shouting): What? That's legitmate! (Walks back in) After all, Jamie Lee Curtis rocks it...
Between that and Kellie Pickler STILL not getting why Simon Cowell called her a "minx" (She apparently heard minx, as in the subject header today), it was a great Idol.
My roommate and I decided on 2 things, which is rare for us in any circumstance: #1. We'd definitely make out with Katharine McFee;
#2. Elliott Yamin's ears make him HOT.
Monday, March 20, 2006
# 7 - What You Don't Know About Me
I really dig country music. Inspired by the upcoming trip to Minneapolis, between reading a book from one of my new editor's new authors and waiting for the Nightline featuring the cast of Grey's Anatomy talking about race on American TV, I have downloaded a bunch of old country songs from Travis Tritt (I'm Gonna Be Somebody, Someday ring a bell, anyone?), Doug Stone (Sure is Monday!) and other assorted artists.
I'm about two steps away from donning my Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt and yelling "Hell Yeah!" and singing Redneck Woman.
But I'm going to the Twin Cities, not Wisconsin. So I better calm down while recognizing that I'm the same girl who crashed a tractor and dated white trash.
I'm about two steps away from donning my Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt and yelling "Hell Yeah!" and singing Redneck Woman.
But I'm going to the Twin Cities, not Wisconsin. So I better calm down while recognizing that I'm the same girl who crashed a tractor and dated white trash.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
6 Weird Things You May Know About Me
I said I'd wait a few days to write this but then I sat down wanting to be addicted to my computer for 2 hours until EXTREME MAKEOVER... and halfway through a can of mixed nuts (so much for that bikini) I thought a few days? Fuck that, I'm going to answer Kiddo's thingy. But seriously, read the next post. It's cool. Lots of reading material for you readers this week. Must be the sex I'm not having.
The rules are, once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 6 weird things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to list 6 other people to tag and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment saying "You've been tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog...Here are six fucked up things about me. . . six is just the beginning. But alas, I have only 89 minutes until EXTREME MAKEOVER HOME EDITION.
1. I fart. Alot. And I'm not ashamed of it; in fact its become a running joke among Berger and a few of my friends. My roommate hates it - can't you control it, she asked once, and I said, Sometimes you just don't know how to pre-empt. After a feta burger at Burger Heaven on Friday, I was glad both of my bosses were gone --- and said to Danielle who could clearly smell it but was being polite and not saying anything about the rancid air, "you're lucky I didn't eat hummus." Another facet of me I attribute to my daddy.
2. I have a fascination with people of color, and really religious people. I think its because I have no culture per se and really fend for myself in the religion department. Maybe its the community, or the fact that I really still want braids, ---none of that I-just-got-back-from-the-Bahamas shit and to be able to sit on a chair and be paraded around at my wedding.
3. I used to pretend olive juice (for green olives in the jar) was wine and I still drink it to this day. Never waste or water it down either.
4. I look in people's eyes on the street, a cardinal sin in NYC. But I'm a fascinated people watcher and I love seeing people who obviously do or do not care about eye contact. And once in a while I'll see a face that haunts me (like the girl on the subway on the day I was listening to Kelly Clarkson after breaking up with Todd on the eve of the summit. I will never forget her face.)
5. I talk to myself in the shower. Particularly about what "we" want to wear, what "we" want to do, about what "we" feel about something.
6. While I really envy people that can follow the trends and the designers, Page Six, art gallery openings, etc I know I shouldn't even bother with it because I wouldn't fit in anyway. Hence the unabashed love of all things poppy and commercial, from RENT to Starship. If its been cool in the past six months, I disdain it until its past trendy.
You probably all know this stuff but it was fun anyway. Especially since I think someone will debate whether or not I debate them when doing #5. I'm going back to SOMETHING BLUE by Emily Giffin --- read SOMETHING BORROWED first but these two books are good! --- but feel free to take this for your blog. I'm going against the grain and not tagging.
The rules are, once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 6 weird things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to list 6 other people to tag and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment saying "You've been tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog...Here are six fucked up things about me. . . six is just the beginning. But alas, I have only 89 minutes until EXTREME MAKEOVER HOME EDITION.
1. I fart. Alot. And I'm not ashamed of it; in fact its become a running joke among Berger and a few of my friends. My roommate hates it - can't you control it, she asked once, and I said, Sometimes you just don't know how to pre-empt. After a feta burger at Burger Heaven on Friday, I was glad both of my bosses were gone --- and said to Danielle who could clearly smell it but was being polite and not saying anything about the rancid air, "you're lucky I didn't eat hummus." Another facet of me I attribute to my daddy.
2. I have a fascination with people of color, and really religious people. I think its because I have no culture per se and really fend for myself in the religion department. Maybe its the community, or the fact that I really still want braids, ---none of that I-just-got-back-from-the-Bahamas shit and to be able to sit on a chair and be paraded around at my wedding.
3. I used to pretend olive juice (for green olives in the jar) was wine and I still drink it to this day. Never waste or water it down either.
4. I look in people's eyes on the street, a cardinal sin in NYC. But I'm a fascinated people watcher and I love seeing people who obviously do or do not care about eye contact. And once in a while I'll see a face that haunts me (like the girl on the subway on the day I was listening to Kelly Clarkson after breaking up with Todd on the eve of the summit. I will never forget her face.)
5. I talk to myself in the shower. Particularly about what "we" want to wear, what "we" want to do, about what "we" feel about something.
6. While I really envy people that can follow the trends and the designers, Page Six, art gallery openings, etc I know I shouldn't even bother with it because I wouldn't fit in anyway. Hence the unabashed love of all things poppy and commercial, from RENT to Starship. If its been cool in the past six months, I disdain it until its past trendy.
You probably all know this stuff but it was fun anyway. Especially since I think someone will debate whether or not I debate them when doing #5. I'm going back to SOMETHING BLUE by Emily Giffin --- read SOMETHING BORROWED first but these two books are good! --- but feel free to take this for your blog. I'm going against the grain and not tagging.
JFK to MSP
Sanity is overrated.
So my new mission to be back to normal is working, especially after a few long talks with friends. I threw myself into work, but instead of taking out my angst in cover/jacket memos I decided to just forget everything I think about otherwise.
And its working. I was really pumped to discover that I have sixteen unexpected days of vacation coming to me in 2006,
So I decided I was going somewhere SOON. As in the first weekend I didn't already have plans or that my bosses scheduled a Monday morning "team breakfast". Initially I planned a hasty escape to Fire Island but that fell apart when Berger decided he'd rather go to Spain with the dinero. (For the record, housesitting in Hoboken is a vacation to no one. Temporary escape, sure, but I want to go somewhere that is not accessible through the MTA transit system.)
So after some consideration and a hasty conversation with a Minneapolis native (friend of a friend) on St. Pat's, I decided that plowing back into the Big Apple equivalent in the Midwest would be the best solution to the remainder my blues.
So here I come, kiddo (I promise I'll return your tag in my next blog), and the rest of the Twin Cities prepare for this transplanted New Yorker. I'll be listening to country music and saying MinnEEESoohhTA soon enough.
(I'm also seeing my really good friends, a former fuck buddy and my favorite freshman ex --- all people who know where Winona State is and don't give a fuck about endpapers.)
Sunday, March 12, 2006
We'll Be Back Momentarily
One should never settle. For love, or for a shitty bloody mary when all you want is a mimosa.
I have a problem. It's called insecurity. It's like the plague, making me work out, making me say loud things at inappropriate times for no reason. Once in a while, I'll get comfortable and be brilliant, but most of the time it's the insecure stuff that people remember.
For the last year, I've been terribly insecure. My moments of true brilliance are fewer and farther between. My work has suffered, my friendships have suffered and the only thing that's benefitted, really, is my body. It's a size six. According to my brain and as a result of some horrible social conditioning brought on equally by contemporary society and my mother,this should be the solution to my unhappiness.
As should burying my anger, or my sorrows in work. But all that does is make me shitty at my job. So, I ask myself every once in awhile, what's the use? I should just quit. I should give up and give in and settle for being miserable, settle for not having the answer or the flat tummy that will never, ever appear. Let myself be fat. But I'm not happy then either and my grocery bills are higher.
My point is, that I think all of us yearn for those moments of brilliance. I was talking to Jackie today about how Chris lights up when he's discussing binary code on computers or how happy Michelle is to see first pass pages. I used to be like that -- genuinely excited and passionate.
But something in me got really fucking insecure when Todd dumped me. And its not entirely his fault; I'm finally GETTING that he's an idiot. I've lived a life too long where the only time I'm super happy is when the guy I want has called me back, paid attention to me, given me validation.
We all have our issues; I hope you, my dear readers, will begrudge me mine. I'm not saying that they are more or less important than some truly tragic things my friends have suffered, especially at the hands of other people at very innocent and influential times. But, as the wisdom in ST ELMO'S FIRE states, it's my time at the edge. Some pretty ripe self-induced drama is going on. And, as the drama queen I've always yearned to be comes out, I'm paying less and less attention to what really's happening to me.
I'm suppressing anger - at Todd and at various other people. I'm passive aggressive. That's what I do. But I've also been really selfish. Also part of my personality - I'm self involved. Always have been. Selfish pretty much comes as part of the bargain. But its been in mass quantities as of late, and I never accounted for how it affects everyone around me. And I'd like to apologize for that, here, publicly.
I'm sorry if I've been bitchy about my weight. Sometimes it just seems like all the hard work I'm doing doesn't do a damn thing but make me look like everyone else in New York. It's stupid but it matters TO ME that I like the vessel my soul is running around in. I know its wrong but I do get validation from getting hit on. It makes me feel good not bad, even though I bitch and moan about it. That's just part of who I am.
I fear sometimes that I'll never get over Todd but today I realized even more that I'm in love with the idea of him, not him the person. I couldn't remember one non-sexual conversation with him that made me feel one eighth of what I feel when I talk to "my Berger". It sucks that I didn't fall in love with him instead of Todd because I'm sure he would have treated me better. (For the record, I think Chris would be damn good to fall in love with too.)
But that's the thing about love. You can't decide. I'm going to wonder how Todd is doing every day for a long time. But moreover, I'm going to wonder who I can watch the Food Channel with on Sunday afternoons. Because that's what I miss. Always having a date on Saturday nights, always knowing that someone out there loves you and finds you attractive no matter if you weigh 165 or 115, if you fart so much the whole bar smells, or that you save green olive juice to drink it like wine later, swirling it in your glass.
That's the real me. I know I've been shortsighted for those of you who know her, but those of you that don't - and know me in real life - take a look. She'll be back after the commercial break, crying in her really pink room with Rob Lowe.
(Thanks, KJ, for the mimosa.)
I have a problem. It's called insecurity. It's like the plague, making me work out, making me say loud things at inappropriate times for no reason. Once in a while, I'll get comfortable and be brilliant, but most of the time it's the insecure stuff that people remember.
For the last year, I've been terribly insecure. My moments of true brilliance are fewer and farther between. My work has suffered, my friendships have suffered and the only thing that's benefitted, really, is my body. It's a size six. According to my brain and as a result of some horrible social conditioning brought on equally by contemporary society and my mother,this should be the solution to my unhappiness.
As should burying my anger, or my sorrows in work. But all that does is make me shitty at my job. So, I ask myself every once in awhile, what's the use? I should just quit. I should give up and give in and settle for being miserable, settle for not having the answer or the flat tummy that will never, ever appear. Let myself be fat. But I'm not happy then either and my grocery bills are higher.
My point is, that I think all of us yearn for those moments of brilliance. I was talking to Jackie today about how Chris lights up when he's discussing binary code on computers or how happy Michelle is to see first pass pages. I used to be like that -- genuinely excited and passionate.
But something in me got really fucking insecure when Todd dumped me. And its not entirely his fault; I'm finally GETTING that he's an idiot. I've lived a life too long where the only time I'm super happy is when the guy I want has called me back, paid attention to me, given me validation.
We all have our issues; I hope you, my dear readers, will begrudge me mine. I'm not saying that they are more or less important than some truly tragic things my friends have suffered, especially at the hands of other people at very innocent and influential times. But, as the wisdom in ST ELMO'S FIRE states, it's my time at the edge. Some pretty ripe self-induced drama is going on. And, as the drama queen I've always yearned to be comes out, I'm paying less and less attention to what really's happening to me.
I'm suppressing anger - at Todd and at various other people. I'm passive aggressive. That's what I do. But I've also been really selfish. Also part of my personality - I'm self involved. Always have been. Selfish pretty much comes as part of the bargain. But its been in mass quantities as of late, and I never accounted for how it affects everyone around me. And I'd like to apologize for that, here, publicly.
I'm sorry if I've been bitchy about my weight. Sometimes it just seems like all the hard work I'm doing doesn't do a damn thing but make me look like everyone else in New York. It's stupid but it matters TO ME that I like the vessel my soul is running around in. I know its wrong but I do get validation from getting hit on. It makes me feel good not bad, even though I bitch and moan about it. That's just part of who I am.
I fear sometimes that I'll never get over Todd but today I realized even more that I'm in love with the idea of him, not him the person. I couldn't remember one non-sexual conversation with him that made me feel one eighth of what I feel when I talk to "my Berger". It sucks that I didn't fall in love with him instead of Todd because I'm sure he would have treated me better. (For the record, I think Chris would be damn good to fall in love with too.)
But that's the thing about love. You can't decide. I'm going to wonder how Todd is doing every day for a long time. But moreover, I'm going to wonder who I can watch the Food Channel with on Sunday afternoons. Because that's what I miss. Always having a date on Saturday nights, always knowing that someone out there loves you and finds you attractive no matter if you weigh 165 or 115, if you fart so much the whole bar smells, or that you save green olive juice to drink it like wine later, swirling it in your glass.
That's the real me. I know I've been shortsighted for those of you who know her, but those of you that don't - and know me in real life - take a look. She'll be back after the commercial break, crying in her really pink room with Rob Lowe.
(Thanks, KJ, for the mimosa.)
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Mystery & Suspense
For those of you that don't know, I got a new boss at work - she handles a lot of suspense books, which isn't exactly my gamut but I started reading one and shockingly, I love it.
I love not knowing what actually happened to people, I guess. It must have influenced my dreams because last night I had a dream about an old friend Jen from college - who in my dream, died of alcohol poisoning. Now I know this isn't true because a) my mom was the bartender and b) her ex looked totally different in the dream, but still it haunts me. Maybe its because she stopped being a friend midway through college and I still wish we were as close as we used to be. Or maybe because the overwhelming feeling I got in the dream was that she is delicate and needs looking after.
So maybe I'll look her up - to look after her.
On another note, I also had a dream that Pag was gay and that was his reason for dumping me. Which also isn't even close to the truth, but I read back over my blogs from February 2005 and realized that I was just trying to hold on to something with him that didn't exist.
And reminded myself not to do that again. Must be the birth control hormones acting up. But if they make me more realistic about love, give them to me. Especially since this way, I probably won't be cheering my period as much, since I have other evidence that I'm not knocked up.
If you can't tell, I'm feeling goofy. Hopefully that holds true until tonight, when TS, Kay and I are hitting up a karaoke bar in Chelsea.
I love not knowing what actually happened to people, I guess. It must have influenced my dreams because last night I had a dream about an old friend Jen from college - who in my dream, died of alcohol poisoning. Now I know this isn't true because a) my mom was the bartender and b) her ex looked totally different in the dream, but still it haunts me. Maybe its because she stopped being a friend midway through college and I still wish we were as close as we used to be. Or maybe because the overwhelming feeling I got in the dream was that she is delicate and needs looking after.
So maybe I'll look her up - to look after her.
On another note, I also had a dream that Pag was gay and that was his reason for dumping me. Which also isn't even close to the truth, but I read back over my blogs from February 2005 and realized that I was just trying to hold on to something with him that didn't exist.
And reminded myself not to do that again. Must be the birth control hormones acting up. But if they make me more realistic about love, give them to me. Especially since this way, I probably won't be cheering my period as much, since I have other evidence that I'm not knocked up.
If you can't tell, I'm feeling goofy. Hopefully that holds true until tonight, when TS, Kay and I are hitting up a karaoke bar in Chelsea.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
C'mon Get Happy
I was really in the pits this week. Couldn't sleep, unhappy all around. And then I woke up one day and everything changed. Must be the new birth control.
Or talking to Kiddo and realizing that when people ask me when am I coming home next, they aren't asking me to come home for good. They are after all, my friends, and they just want to see me. Duh. And not everybody is happy in their job 24/7, also duh.
So, this weekend while B is away, I am going to do stuff for myself. Have a Friday night in with Chinese food and books. Watch the sunrise early on Saturday while I run. Go out Saturday night with new friends and watch bad karaoke. Listen to country music. Get drunk at brunch on Sunday. Etc.
And chill, and enjoy the fact that I'm living a dream, 24 in New York City.
Or talking to Kiddo and realizing that when people ask me when am I coming home next, they aren't asking me to come home for good. They are after all, my friends, and they just want to see me. Duh. And not everybody is happy in their job 24/7, also duh.
So, this weekend while B is away, I am going to do stuff for myself. Have a Friday night in with Chinese food and books. Watch the sunrise early on Saturday while I run. Go out Saturday night with new friends and watch bad karaoke. Listen to country music. Get drunk at brunch on Sunday. Etc.
And chill, and enjoy the fact that I'm living a dream, 24 in New York City.
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