A Rose In Bloom

Better than I could be. Not as good as I’d planned.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Everything but the Kitchen Sink

I am almost done with my last bit of homeowrk for the semester, a long paper on all of the books I have "read" for my thesis. As such, I am on a finals diet. In the last three days I have put the following crap in my body: PixyStix, oreos dipped in peanut butter, cashews, oreos dipped in milk, chicken fingers, crackers and cheese, a $4 chocolate cupcake from Dean and Deluca, french fries, honey almond black tea, biscuits and honey, a Pepsi with a Coca Cola chaser, tacos, potato chips, chocolate milk, canned peaches, mac 'n' cheese, strawberry popsicle, and more Pixy Stix!

If you don't hear from me soon, it's because I am in a sugar coma on my floor...

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Wacky Travel, Palindrome Style and other holiday cheer

I was just checking my travel plans for flying home on Wednesday. I fly home on 12/22, on flight 2221, arriving in Austin, Texas at 12:22. I just had to share. It's a good thing those numbers add up to seven because if they had somehow added up to six, I would have had three sixes in my travel plans and may have had to make some flight changes.

In other holiday news, I saw a group of Santa's all suited up grabbing beers at a pub in the village today, If I had my camera, I would have taken a picture, everyone else was 'cause it was just too funny.

Last night I finally caught the repeat of Oprah's Favorite Things show for 2004. You know, the show where people try to sell their children to be in the audience and then cry and scream and pant when they see the things that are Oprah's favorites because, let's be honest, Oprah's favorite things are never trinkets from the dollar store because her dollars add up to a lot more than all of ours put together. Well, I watched like I usually do, pissed that I wasn't in the audience and jealous of the people getting gifts (I know, not very holiday spirity but I'm just being real!) This year she did a suprise audience of all teachers because they have the most important job in the world and are the light for children and blah, blah, blah. Now I was down with it really because I know like a bazillion teachers personally and know that they get paid pretty low for what they do, but at this point they all make more money than I do and get paid vacatiosn so I have the right to complain just a bit. Anyway, as I watched the show I kept a tally of what the ladies were winning. Grand total, more than $20,000 in prizes! And they were all cool, we're talking plasma TVs and laptop computers and vacations and cashmere and cake, Oprah actually let them eat cake! And all I could think as these women cried and called Oprah the messiah was, "Ladies, you have to pay the taxes on all of that shit! Merry freaking Christmas!"

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Santa Baby, I've been an awfully good girl...

Only because part of the proceeds go to charity and because they contain parts like a "direct drive transmission" and a "multi-purpose attachment hub"...I want this and this for Christmas!
I promise to share the bi-products of both presents...seriously, Santa, I swear!

On the Eve of Regret

I regret not being the first one to say something was wrong
I regret sleeping double in a single bed so you didn'thave to go home alone
I regret making room in my heart
I regret long phone conversations that lasted late into the night
I regret making time when all you did was waste it
I regret being too proud and too weak at the same time
I regret knowing that I won't say good bye

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

On my twenty-five minute ride on the train into the cty this morning, I had to stand from Brooklyn to Manhattan. I was holding on to the bar directly in front of a woman who was sitting down doing her make-up. I watched her as she squirted Maybeline liquid foundation onto a triangular sponge and smeared it across her face and neck. She then loaded a billowey brush with coral pink blush and swept it across her cheekbones and around the edges of her temples and then under her chin and on her neck. Next, she dabbed on a few dots of liquid highlighter on the apples of her cheeks and rubbed it in with her ring finger. After that she loaded a small brush with Rimmel grey-blue eyeshadow--two shades--and applied it to her eyelids, followed by more highlighter, in a different shade of course, directly underneath her eyebrow. She took out a charcoal colored pencil and drew in lines around the top and bottom of her eyes and then smeared them with yet another brush. She pulled out a wand and brushed her eyebrows, three swipes each. After that she pulled out her pink Maybeline mascara tube and applied it to her lashes, both tops and bottoms. She then coated her lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss, blotted, then repeated. She piled all of her weapontry back into it's large black case just as we crossed the bridge into ChinaTown. As we were going into the tunnel I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the window of the subway car. Me and my lipgloss, and I smiled. And then I sighed, took a deep breath, and thanked God that I wasn't a girl.

Monday, December 13, 2004

Beef, it's what's for...Breakfast

After I find out yesterday that my twenty-one year old younger brother has high cholesteral, I read this article just now and am so not surprised why...

(I admit though, embarrassed of course, that if there was a Carl Jr's near by, I would try it, just once, with a side of fries and a Coca Cola. 'Cause if your gonna go all out, you better go hard!)
On the bus ride home from the social event of the season last night, there was a woman on the bus who was snoring so loudly that even when I put on my headphones, I could still hear her over the Barbra and Josh Groban vocals. That, my friends, is talent! And then later, as I was watching my favorite guilty pleasure on tv, I was glad that this guy wasn't on board or else our little-snorer-that-could might have ended up in a baby trunk at the bottom of the Hudson.

Friday, December 10, 2004

I finished one of my final papers today...I already did my happy dance, you missed it. I still have one more to go. Then it's off to holiday hoorahing with family and friends. I've been preparing for all of the Christmas love by listening to my rather substantial collection of holiday music and singing out loud while dancing around the apartment. Since I am at work all day though, I can't very well dance around, so I listen to the Holiday channel on Yahoo and sing quietly to myself instead. Today they played one of my favorite songs, which no one else in the office had ever even heard of. It's called I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas...and I love it. It makes me want to hop up and down and wish for frivolous, outrageous Christmas gifts from all of my friends. It's right up there with Dominick the Italian Christams Donkey and The Chipmunk Christmas song. Maybe if you're nice, Ill sing them for you...

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

I recently went looking back through my blog archives, just a quick stroll down memory lane if you will. It's a fun way to reminisce, sort of like literary photos of times long since passed. I purposely clicked on the months from this past summer to see what I had said about the sad life I was living at the time. I was surprised by what I saw. For someone who spent the better part of June through August crying uncontrollably at random moments, my blog looked suprisingly happy and chipper, like that of a relatively well-adjusted twenty-something in New York. Granted, the average posting was less in number then the months before or certianly now, but the tone never really changed. Occasionally I mentioned some of the general cruminess that threatened to drown me like an oversized turtleneck, but for the most part, perhaps on purpose, I neglected to admit to the world, and to myself the truth.

This past summer, though sprinkled with amazing events like weddings, fireworks and my 24th birthday was easily the darkest time of my life. I spent my days going through the motions, being thankful that in the chaos I hadn't forgotten how to breath, or at least my body understood the necessity without me having to consciously decide that it needed to be done. I spent a lot of time alone...struggling to remember that the friends I had did love me, even though I wasn't sure if that love was enough. I lived off of tuna and macaroni and cheese and slept on a mattress I had to re-inflate every week in a room full of boxes left unpacked, because there was no where for anything to go, in a room with no air condtioning, just the whir of a fan to drown out the passing cars. I had no furniture, no money, nothing really. Just some good people who didn't give up on me, even when I was pretty close to giving up on myself. Those people know who they are, the ones who let me call at random times and cry, becuase it was the only emotion I had keft that I knew how to work with. They let me have good, cleansing cries and listened and reassured from thousands of miles away...and I am stronger because of them. The ones closer to home, the ones that matter, didn't give up on me either and kept on squeezing when I tried so hard to push them away...they too kept me afloat. It's funny really, I think I never wrote about it because if I didn't say it out loud, didn't share that part with the world, then maybe it wasn't true, maybe the saddness wouldn't catch me and take my breath away in the middle of a Village street and turn everything blurry behind my tears. Maybe if I didn't talk about it, I was the strong one, somehow taking control over whatever it was that had taken control over me. Depression is a mean, unkind, overwhelming bitch of a beast. I fear her more now than ever before, I know what she can do.

And here I am now, a few months later...a whole lot stronger. When things started to look up in the early fall I had never been so happy to me, again, after having lost myslef for so long, it all felt just a little sweeter. And now with the holidays settling in, the cold can't suffocate the joy that I hold inside, a joy that finally can outshine the sadness. I've spent my whole life trying to be strong enough to own up to the truth, to admit to the world, and to myself, that the things that happen to me, controllable or not, are nothing to be ashamed of, to deny, because in denying those things I am denying who I really am. I am a big ball of contradictions: fiercely independent and utterly dependent, in control and at a loss, courageous and fearful; a complexity of self identity even I have yet to fully understand. But I sit here now, more humbled than ever, sure that there exists a master plan...one that requires succeeding in battles you often wish never had to be fought. But still I go on, choosing to fight and stay in the game, trying to be honest with myself no matter what. An always reminding myself that it's okay to tell the truth...
This was released today. I laughed out loud at number number ten. But somehow, most of the others do have a little place in my heart...

In other news, it's raining and cold and I have yet to finish all of the work I need to for my finals. On the other hand, my holiday social calender is all aglow with three separate events scheduled for this weekend alone, but, taking into account my previous statement, I'll be lucky to make it to one of them. Ahhh, December, how I adore thee...

Friday, December 03, 2004

Just a Plea...

It has been brought to my attention that there are quite a few lurkers out there in cyberspace who read my blog and, I suppose, find enjoyment from my random babble. So if you are out there, hiding securly behind your username, go ahead, drop me a line in the comments field and say hi...I'm just curious as to what types of folks are lingering around Rose in Bloom....