Just checking in. It's a new week and I'm off to a good start. February is the last month of my gym membership so I plan to take advantage. Yes, I am quitting the gym. $94.00 a month is just a bit ridiculous so I bought a pilates tape which came in the mail yesterday and if it keeps pouring out, I'll skip the gym today and check it out.
I'll miss the gym I'm sure. The treadmills, the ellipticals, the hot tub and steam room. I think you can walk in and use the gym for $15 a day if you're a non member so maybe once in a blue moon if I'm desperate I'll pop in and spa myself. Now I need to discipline myself to work out at home and outside.
Not much is new. I'm looking forward to the Superbowl. No, not to watch it. (Although having a team you really do want to win adds to the excitement. Thank goodness it's not the Lions and the Bears or something like that. I don't know anyone who likes them.) BUT TO COOK! I can't wait to wake up Superbowl morning and start cooking. A reason to cook for more than one person is really fun.
Ok, I'll stop boring. Just not much is new.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
I've been busy & disgusted
Sorry for lack of updates. Work has been insane. It's like I begin to rebel on Friday's and just take an anxious F - you attitude towards work come 2:00 Fridays. Mike's coming at 4:30. We're challenging ourselves to see how little money we can spend this week not including his brother's birthday gift.
Lets talk about morals for a moment. I pose this question seriously and please comment with your answer or opinion.
If a young mother of five robbed you and committed fraud with your checkbook and debit card and you could prosecute, would you? (Most likely your actions would send her to jail.)
I have since reopened the case and made an appointment with my detective today. My number one suspect (who got away with over $1,000 worth of merchandise at both Wal-Mart and Target through the use of my checks) has since dyed her hair and managed to accumulate a whole new wardrobe identical to the caliber of Wal-Mart and Target. I cannot prove her guilty but I am hoping the detective can. She still CANNOT look me in the eye, goes out of her way to not walk by me, and smirks at me with a shit eating grin when she thinks I'm not looking. (Being cross-eyed at will can come in handy.)
I have not been unpolite but I also will not acknowledge her unless I have to. I am a very professional person at work and I would never do anything to jeopardize my solid respectable reputation.
She's young. 25 or 26, unmarried, five or six kids. What pisses me off even more is that shes got all this new stuff. She better have taken care of her kids with that money too but somehow I doubt it. She just looks like she got one over on me and that's the number one reason I want her to go down. I can't punch her but having her arrested would be a hit even harder.
I'm still getting the bad checks and those f'n bills from the check clearing collection people and I'm getting really sick and tired of it. The thief only got their hands on 16 checks and only eight have come to my attention. I'm hoping there is at least ONE cashier working in Wal-Mart with the brain to check a driver's license number. The same number is on each check and the police ran it and it's bad. The DL # is also written in the same hand on each check which leads me to think one of two things:
1. The thief knows at least one cashier in every Wal-Mart within a tewnty mile radius.
2. The thief wrote the number on each check and when prompted to show a DL, thief then responded, 'Oh, I already wrote the number on there for you.'
The fact that the used check numbers jump (non consistent) leads me to believe at least three were not accepted.
But even if Detective can prove her guilty, how can I have five young children's mom sent to jail? (If even they would do that. What does a case of fraud get you these days?)
I guess I'm getting ahead of myself but I hate her more now seeing her in all these new clothes. It wasn't her birthday, or a special holiday. All the largest amount checks were written mid January and all the clothes appeared mid January.
No, I'm not responsible for that money. But who the hell is she to walk out of a Wal-Mart with $300 worth of shit on the backs of Wal-Mart? Ok, I'm kind of anti-Wal-Mart so that's not all bad, but theft is one of the reasons prices go up and honest people get laid off and another reason why I hate people.
I am so ANGRY. This morning I was completely HARASSED by a homeless man while in line at Dunkin Donuts in Market Station. He just would not let up and wasn't even silently sitting there with his cup asking for spare change but DEMANDING $4.00. There's days I don't even have $4.00. And we're all just so desensitized that no one does anything but try to ignore it and not look at it. I know I can take care of myself but I'm not about to cause a scene and maybe it's wrong of me to have thought a man should have told this asshole to get lost, but I did. I shouldn't expect someone to do what I'm not willing to do but I'm still a bit old fashioned and I still consider myself a woman, hence I am ever so slightly just an eensy weensy bit weaker (for lack of a better world.) The feminists would kill me.
I don't want this to turn into a homeless bashing. It's not. Anyone who knows me knows I have a bleeding heart and would do anything for anyone no matter what the stakes, but I am completely against people who have the ability to work but who rather demand money from me while in line for a coffee at 8:00 in the morning.
Basically, I hate thieves. I was not brought up with thieves and thievery and I didn't grow up with thieves. Since turning 19, I have dealt with the scummiest of scummy sons of bitches and thieves make my blood run cold and a fury rage through me. I HATE THEM! That man this morning may not have stolen my wallet but his act, in my eyes, was an act of thievery. I could NEVER steal. And I'll be damned if I'll ever approve the act. Even if your child is starving, there is no reason to steal, because I whole heartedly believe that there are people in this world who would make you a Thanksgiving dinner if you ask for it properly and if you're a good person.
Sorry for the rant, I'm just so disgusted. Let me know what you guys think about sending a mom to jail.
Lets talk about morals for a moment. I pose this question seriously and please comment with your answer or opinion.
If a young mother of five robbed you and committed fraud with your checkbook and debit card and you could prosecute, would you? (Most likely your actions would send her to jail.)
I have since reopened the case and made an appointment with my detective today. My number one suspect (who got away with over $1,000 worth of merchandise at both Wal-Mart and Target through the use of my checks) has since dyed her hair and managed to accumulate a whole new wardrobe identical to the caliber of Wal-Mart and Target. I cannot prove her guilty but I am hoping the detective can. She still CANNOT look me in the eye, goes out of her way to not walk by me, and smirks at me with a shit eating grin when she thinks I'm not looking. (Being cross-eyed at will can come in handy.)
I have not been unpolite but I also will not acknowledge her unless I have to. I am a very professional person at work and I would never do anything to jeopardize my solid respectable reputation.
She's young. 25 or 26, unmarried, five or six kids. What pisses me off even more is that shes got all this new stuff. She better have taken care of her kids with that money too but somehow I doubt it. She just looks like she got one over on me and that's the number one reason I want her to go down. I can't punch her but having her arrested would be a hit even harder.
I'm still getting the bad checks and those f'n bills from the check clearing collection people and I'm getting really sick and tired of it. The thief only got their hands on 16 checks and only eight have come to my attention. I'm hoping there is at least ONE cashier working in Wal-Mart with the brain to check a driver's license number. The same number is on each check and the police ran it and it's bad. The DL # is also written in the same hand on each check which leads me to think one of two things:
1. The thief knows at least one cashier in every Wal-Mart within a tewnty mile radius.
2. The thief wrote the number on each check and when prompted to show a DL, thief then responded, 'Oh, I already wrote the number on there for you.'
The fact that the used check numbers jump (non consistent) leads me to believe at least three were not accepted.
But even if Detective can prove her guilty, how can I have five young children's mom sent to jail? (If even they would do that. What does a case of fraud get you these days?)
I guess I'm getting ahead of myself but I hate her more now seeing her in all these new clothes. It wasn't her birthday, or a special holiday. All the largest amount checks were written mid January and all the clothes appeared mid January.
No, I'm not responsible for that money. But who the hell is she to walk out of a Wal-Mart with $300 worth of shit on the backs of Wal-Mart? Ok, I'm kind of anti-Wal-Mart so that's not all bad, but theft is one of the reasons prices go up and honest people get laid off and another reason why I hate people.
I am so ANGRY. This morning I was completely HARASSED by a homeless man while in line at Dunkin Donuts in Market Station. He just would not let up and wasn't even silently sitting there with his cup asking for spare change but DEMANDING $4.00. There's days I don't even have $4.00. And we're all just so desensitized that no one does anything but try to ignore it and not look at it. I know I can take care of myself but I'm not about to cause a scene and maybe it's wrong of me to have thought a man should have told this asshole to get lost, but I did. I shouldn't expect someone to do what I'm not willing to do but I'm still a bit old fashioned and I still consider myself a woman, hence I am ever so slightly just an eensy weensy bit weaker (for lack of a better world.) The feminists would kill me.
I don't want this to turn into a homeless bashing. It's not. Anyone who knows me knows I have a bleeding heart and would do anything for anyone no matter what the stakes, but I am completely against people who have the ability to work but who rather demand money from me while in line for a coffee at 8:00 in the morning.
Basically, I hate thieves. I was not brought up with thieves and thievery and I didn't grow up with thieves. Since turning 19, I have dealt with the scummiest of scummy sons of bitches and thieves make my blood run cold and a fury rage through me. I HATE THEM! That man this morning may not have stolen my wallet but his act, in my eyes, was an act of thievery. I could NEVER steal. And I'll be damned if I'll ever approve the act. Even if your child is starving, there is no reason to steal, because I whole heartedly believe that there are people in this world who would make you a Thanksgiving dinner if you ask for it properly and if you're a good person.
Sorry for the rant, I'm just so disgusted. Let me know what you guys think about sending a mom to jail.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Out
Going to look at an apartment with Mike tonight. It came highly recommended by a colleague of mine. I don't think we'll take it too seriously but I think it will be a good basis of comparison. Mike has been going back and forth on the idea of whether or not he wants his own garage. Last night he decided he did so it looks like we'll be looking into condos now. Besides, I don't want him putting all his projects off for another two years and I think having an old beat up hotrod and his very own place to work on it will help him cope with the inevitable shock and possible depression of being away from his hometown and friends.
Up until recently, I was scared for him and he was the one reassuring me he'd be fine. I finally took his word for it and last night he did get a little scared. Nothing like a man to get cold feet at the worst possible moment. i.e. looking at a place today. I guess that just suddenly made this whole thing that much more real to him.
I'm feeling neutral. I think it will be more fun than anything else. I already know they don't allow bulldogs so Mike's not happy. If they don't allow pugs either, then fuck them.
Have a good weekend. See you Monday.
Up until recently, I was scared for him and he was the one reassuring me he'd be fine. I finally took his word for it and last night he did get a little scared. Nothing like a man to get cold feet at the worst possible moment. i.e. looking at a place today. I guess that just suddenly made this whole thing that much more real to him.
I'm feeling neutral. I think it will be more fun than anything else. I already know they don't allow bulldogs so Mike's not happy. If they don't allow pugs either, then fuck them.
Have a good weekend. See you Monday.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Back
I'm just getting back into routine and tomorrow it's time to pack again. I'm pretty miserable at my house all the time now. I went to bed at 8:00 last night. I got home around 7:30 from book club. At times, I'm sickened just by the sight of my roommates and I cringe when I hear their voices through my bedroom door. I think I hate them. It's just everything. It's just all their inconsideration and disgusting habits and lazy fatness. It's the six empty Domino's pizza boxes stacked up beside the garbage can, the hyper active dog they never should have gotten pouncing the floor above my bedroom all hours of the night making my room shake, it's the fact that they have never cleaned the bathroom, it's just that they completely disgust me.
I still can't believe it's just four and a half months to go. Before the new year it felt like a year away. I'm going out to Washington state the first weekend in May and my goal is to have mine and Mike's new place secured by the time I leave.
The weekend was awesome. Mike and I had a lot of fun and I got to spend time with my mom and Mike's mom and some old friends. I totally smoked all weekend. But haven't since I got back.
We have all sorts of friends growing up. A large part of my childhood (ages 8 - 15) was spent with the same people. Besides the obvious Pathetic and Ugly, there was also a great bunch of guys I spent all my young tom boy days with. My big brother dated a girl around the corner and I'm not sure how or why but I became best friends with her younger brother and his friends, one of which shared the fence which divided their backyards.
Life was great. Congregating on the corner of Hermann and Oak, we all met on our bicycles. Who knew what the day would bring? Summer days were spent playing running bases in either Nick's or Mike's pools, summer evenings were spent playing two on two b-ball in Mike's lit driveway or playing Uno on the red picnic table. It was really fun and I always enjoyed being the only girl. We were young and care free and the drama of high school hadn't yet touched us and all we did was play all day and night.
Saturday night I went out with Paola. She came into our little union later in life. Pathetic and I had split for a little while and when she resurfaced, Paola came along with her. Paola and I had split eight years ago but reunited when she started working at the restaurant I worked in about three or four years ago. We see each other at least once a month.
We picked up Mark who joined our union at age 12. In what inevitabally became 'the crew' in our high shool years, Mark went back the furthest when it came to Mike, Sean and myself. Mike and Sean being original members of the Hermann/Oak front. Follow me? There were never hard feelings with Paola, Mark, Sean, etc. Paoala was older and had drifted away by the time Ugly and Pathetic ruined me and boys are dumb. So they never really knew what happened other than the fact I wasn't around anymore.
So Saturday night Paola and I picked up Mark and brought him over to Sean's. (Now lives with his girlfriend) We weren't going to go in but figured ah, what the hell. Sean and I were never real close and only go way back because he lived where we all did.
Sean was hosting an Omaha tournament so Mark, Paola and I got real comfortable in the kitchen and just laughed and laughed. I found myself surprised when I'd get a sneak peak into the living room where about eight meatheads were sitting playing cards; it was easy to forget where we were.
Then Mike walked in. Now I've seen Mike maybe half a dozen times in the past year and he always addresses me the same way. "Jessica (last name), what's up!" He also leaves me the same way every time. "See ya, Jessica (last name)." I get a kiss on the cheek at arrival and departure and we chat and everytime he asks me what I'm up to and everytime I tell him I'm living in Philly and everytime he sounds really surprised.
Mike's a character. You see, Mike has made quite a life for himself. He's a drug dealer. But he's not the guy you buy drugs from. No no no. Someone like Mark has to buy the drugs from Mike in very large amounts and then you can go ahead and buy the drugs from Mark.
Mike looks the same but much thinner, talks the same, laughs the same, still loves NOFX apparently. We used to listen to it on cassette. Saturday Mike was recruiting people to join him in his Atlantic City suite after the NOFX concert next month in A.C. His car is in someone else's name, his house in someone else's name. I got the impression from his mom and sister a couple years ago when I saw them that they're not too happy with Mike. He has managed to evade the IRS for several years now without ever holding down one job.
Must be fun. His girlfriend was there with him but apparently her job was just to sit there, look somewhat attractive, keep certain her thong was showing at all times, cause confusion for me internally at the sight of her white hair with two inch long black roots, and never speak.
Mike, Mark, Paola and I smoked a blunt and laughed like we were all fourteen again. It was a lot of fun and I'm really glad we stepped into Sean's. We made our own little party and although we're not who we were when we were fourteen, we were still who we were when we fourteen.....together.
When wondering if anybody ever remembers me, I know for certain that Mike remembers me as the girl he spent his prepubescent summers with and then asked out on a date 115 days in a row. I know Nick remembers me. Afterall, I was his first kiss. (Yeah, I was a heartbreaker.) Mark. I just love him and hope we always stay friends. I'm sure he remembers walking over the bridge in town in a foot of snow and slush just to bring me my Christmas gift. I remember it was the Smashing Pumpkin's, Infinate Sadness of something, or I think the word Melancholy was in there somewhere. You know, the double cd.
It's nice knowing you're a positive part/character in someone else's history/story.
I still can't believe it's just four and a half months to go. Before the new year it felt like a year away. I'm going out to Washington state the first weekend in May and my goal is to have mine and Mike's new place secured by the time I leave.
The weekend was awesome. Mike and I had a lot of fun and I got to spend time with my mom and Mike's mom and some old friends. I totally smoked all weekend. But haven't since I got back.
We have all sorts of friends growing up. A large part of my childhood (ages 8 - 15) was spent with the same people. Besides the obvious Pathetic and Ugly, there was also a great bunch of guys I spent all my young tom boy days with. My big brother dated a girl around the corner and I'm not sure how or why but I became best friends with her younger brother and his friends, one of which shared the fence which divided their backyards.
Life was great. Congregating on the corner of Hermann and Oak, we all met on our bicycles. Who knew what the day would bring? Summer days were spent playing running bases in either Nick's or Mike's pools, summer evenings were spent playing two on two b-ball in Mike's lit driveway or playing Uno on the red picnic table. It was really fun and I always enjoyed being the only girl. We were young and care free and the drama of high school hadn't yet touched us and all we did was play all day and night.
Saturday night I went out with Paola. She came into our little union later in life. Pathetic and I had split for a little while and when she resurfaced, Paola came along with her. Paola and I had split eight years ago but reunited when she started working at the restaurant I worked in about three or four years ago. We see each other at least once a month.
We picked up Mark who joined our union at age 12. In what inevitabally became 'the crew' in our high shool years, Mark went back the furthest when it came to Mike, Sean and myself. Mike and Sean being original members of the Hermann/Oak front. Follow me? There were never hard feelings with Paola, Mark, Sean, etc. Paoala was older and had drifted away by the time Ugly and Pathetic ruined me and boys are dumb. So they never really knew what happened other than the fact I wasn't around anymore.
So Saturday night Paola and I picked up Mark and brought him over to Sean's. (Now lives with his girlfriend) We weren't going to go in but figured ah, what the hell. Sean and I were never real close and only go way back because he lived where we all did.
Sean was hosting an Omaha tournament so Mark, Paola and I got real comfortable in the kitchen and just laughed and laughed. I found myself surprised when I'd get a sneak peak into the living room where about eight meatheads were sitting playing cards; it was easy to forget where we were.
Then Mike walked in. Now I've seen Mike maybe half a dozen times in the past year and he always addresses me the same way. "Jessica (last name), what's up!" He also leaves me the same way every time. "See ya, Jessica (last name)." I get a kiss on the cheek at arrival and departure and we chat and everytime he asks me what I'm up to and everytime I tell him I'm living in Philly and everytime he sounds really surprised.
Mike's a character. You see, Mike has made quite a life for himself. He's a drug dealer. But he's not the guy you buy drugs from. No no no. Someone like Mark has to buy the drugs from Mike in very large amounts and then you can go ahead and buy the drugs from Mark.
Mike looks the same but much thinner, talks the same, laughs the same, still loves NOFX apparently. We used to listen to it on cassette. Saturday Mike was recruiting people to join him in his Atlantic City suite after the NOFX concert next month in A.C. His car is in someone else's name, his house in someone else's name. I got the impression from his mom and sister a couple years ago when I saw them that they're not too happy with Mike. He has managed to evade the IRS for several years now without ever holding down one job.
Must be fun. His girlfriend was there with him but apparently her job was just to sit there, look somewhat attractive, keep certain her thong was showing at all times, cause confusion for me internally at the sight of her white hair with two inch long black roots, and never speak.
Mike, Mark, Paola and I smoked a blunt and laughed like we were all fourteen again. It was a lot of fun and I'm really glad we stepped into Sean's. We made our own little party and although we're not who we were when we were fourteen, we were still who we were when we fourteen.....together.
When wondering if anybody ever remembers me, I know for certain that Mike remembers me as the girl he spent his prepubescent summers with and then asked out on a date 115 days in a row. I know Nick remembers me. Afterall, I was his first kiss. (Yeah, I was a heartbreaker.) Mark. I just love him and hope we always stay friends. I'm sure he remembers walking over the bridge in town in a foot of snow and slush just to bring me my Christmas gift. I remember it was the Smashing Pumpkin's, Infinate Sadness of something, or I think the word Melancholy was in there somewhere. You know, the double cd.
It's nice knowing you're a positive part/character in someone else's history/story.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Today
I am eagerly awaiting the end of the work day. I love when my Michael picks me up at work. I'm almost all packed: four complete outfits right down to the socks, four pairs of shoes, and a piece of Girl Scout stationary listing what I have yet to throw in my trusty great big duffle. For the past eighteen months, I have packed and left Philadelphia 92% of the Fridays that fall within the period. Four and a half months to go. I wonder if I'll miss it. I think I will at times but depending on Mike's work schedule when we live together, I'm sure we may occasionally spend a weekend back at his mom's house.
My mood is hopeful. I've been having trouble sleeping and been experiencing nightmares. I chalk this up to not smoking. Today is day five. Not even a drag. My body feels great though. People I work with comment to me all the time how slim I've been looking. No one has said anything in a while (it was getting annoying anyway), but I see it this time. I think it's the jogging. I packed up gym clothes too for this weekend. Mike lives next to a high school with a track. I've jogged it only once before.
I'm so happy to have Monday off. Two weeks non stop in Philly without stepping into a car once is my max. My body already needs a break from inconsiderate roommates and the grayness of the city streets. I'm really looking forward to dinner at my favorite little 'place'. A great old school combination deli/ice cream parlor on the main strip in the residential part of town Mike and I plan to move to. Actually, the whole town is residential with just little banks and stores scattered about. This place, The Bread Board, has the best sandwiches and pickles and a great homey (home - y not wazzzuppp!) atmosphere.
This entry has much ado about nothing. I know. I'm making time go by. I already checked out my list of favorites and spent a good amount of time looking for a great 1950's dress for Valentine's Day. I heeded big bro's advice or mistakes rather.....again.....and already made reservations for dinner at an Italian place I've peered into over a dozen times. Everyone raves about it. I'd like a new dress and seamed hosiery for the occassion.
Every gal daydreams about her man telling her to 'Get dressed. We have reservations.' A chilled moderately priced bottle of wine then appears and he helps you into your coat and offers his arm and you walk through the streets of Philadelphia to a great Italian restaurant where your window table is eagerly awaiting your arrival. You close the restaurant and the last candle burning is your own and you share tiramisu and smile and look adoringly at one another. It's already late and you suggest you both walk home as well, that it is 'such a beautiful evening' and you dance through the streets and he buys you beautiful flowers from a flower cart. (sigh)
What? Reality? Oh yeah. I'm up now. I understand that Mike may need a little bit more time. I also know that I have a tendency to set very high expectations and experience disappointment. It's not very fair to expect Mike to make a reservation in Philly when he knows jack about Philly let alone where the good restaurants are. So I took that liberty upon myself. I let Mike know and he seemed genuinely satisfied and approved of my plans and my straightforwardness. Now I won't stress. I will very much enjoy the fancy dinner in a new restaurant and experience a romantic date night in Philly and I don't think the fact that I took cae of it myself will make much of a difference. I'm hoping/plannig to have the rest of my life with Mike. My taking care of the dinner reservations this year won't kill me. At least I'll know for sure we have a place to eat. ;-)
Mike can take care of the rest.
My mood is hopeful. I've been having trouble sleeping and been experiencing nightmares. I chalk this up to not smoking. Today is day five. Not even a drag. My body feels great though. People I work with comment to me all the time how slim I've been looking. No one has said anything in a while (it was getting annoying anyway), but I see it this time. I think it's the jogging. I packed up gym clothes too for this weekend. Mike lives next to a high school with a track. I've jogged it only once before.
I'm so happy to have Monday off. Two weeks non stop in Philly without stepping into a car once is my max. My body already needs a break from inconsiderate roommates and the grayness of the city streets. I'm really looking forward to dinner at my favorite little 'place'. A great old school combination deli/ice cream parlor on the main strip in the residential part of town Mike and I plan to move to. Actually, the whole town is residential with just little banks and stores scattered about. This place, The Bread Board, has the best sandwiches and pickles and a great homey (home - y not wazzzuppp!) atmosphere.
This entry has much ado about nothing. I know. I'm making time go by. I already checked out my list of favorites and spent a good amount of time looking for a great 1950's dress for Valentine's Day. I heeded big bro's advice or mistakes rather.....again.....and already made reservations for dinner at an Italian place I've peered into over a dozen times. Everyone raves about it. I'd like a new dress and seamed hosiery for the occassion.
Every gal daydreams about her man telling her to 'Get dressed. We have reservations.' A chilled moderately priced bottle of wine then appears and he helps you into your coat and offers his arm and you walk through the streets of Philadelphia to a great Italian restaurant where your window table is eagerly awaiting your arrival. You close the restaurant and the last candle burning is your own and you share tiramisu and smile and look adoringly at one another. It's already late and you suggest you both walk home as well, that it is 'such a beautiful evening' and you dance through the streets and he buys you beautiful flowers from a flower cart. (sigh)
What? Reality? Oh yeah. I'm up now. I understand that Mike may need a little bit more time. I also know that I have a tendency to set very high expectations and experience disappointment. It's not very fair to expect Mike to make a reservation in Philly when he knows jack about Philly let alone where the good restaurants are. So I took that liberty upon myself. I let Mike know and he seemed genuinely satisfied and approved of my plans and my straightforwardness. Now I won't stress. I will very much enjoy the fancy dinner in a new restaurant and experience a romantic date night in Philly and I don't think the fact that I took cae of it myself will make much of a difference. I'm hoping/plannig to have the rest of my life with Mike. My taking care of the dinner reservations this year won't kill me. At least I'll know for sure we have a place to eat. ;-)
Mike can take care of the rest.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
And then it's gone. Just like that.
It's way past my bed time but my new winter edition cookbook arrived in the mail and like an excited child, I have to read it back cover to front before bed.
I turned a page and my eyes caught a glimpse of a picture of a tortilla shaped into a salad bowl at the precise moment I felt an ice cold chill run down my spine at the precise moment that a siren wailed outside my city window.
I'm choking back tears and I'm petrified. It's fading. This is exactly like waking up from a horrible nightmare. The shock is so frightening and it fades second by second upon realization that you're safe and before you know it, it's gone. Just like that. And if you don't write about it within five minutes, you'll lose it.
The second my heart began beating again and I realized what had just happened, I tossed the new issue aside and reached for my laptop.
Crystal clear memories/visions untouched by my own perceptions or drugs regarding a very specific time in my life are extremely hard to come by. I do not force them. The vision just brought on by that tortilla, chill and siren would have brought me to my knees had I been standing.
I saw, as if it were happening this very instant, Alex standing at the stove shaping tortillas in a pan of sizzling oil. He's concentrating and I'm watching him and it's still only our first week in our new luxurious, white, clean yet unfurnished apartment. I may not have had all the hope in the world for my new life by the end of that first week but the situation was no where near as hopeless as it would become. That tortilla combined with that ice cold chill was shocking. You see, everytime I experience uncomfortable cold, I find myself remembering. Never had I been so cold than in those three months that seemed to last an eternity. Just my luck that I would be locked out of every bedroom in my own apartment left to sleep on the carpet under piles of dirty clothes a minimum of three out of seven days during one of the coldest winters in history. Just my luck that my roommates developed ways to keep me out even when I had all the keys to the front door. I have never been homeless, but goddamn do I know the agonizing pain of waking up in the backseat of a two door coupe in below zero weather under three blankets too cold to reach over the front seat to turn the key to receive heat. The thought of sticking my hand, head, or arm out of the blankets to help make the pain stop was too frightening to comprehend. Come to think of it, I don't think I was comprehending much in those days. But I do remember leaving the car running for a good twenty minutes, the heat on full blast getting that car good and steamy. Check the time, 3:07 am, kill the engine, fall asleep, wake up shivering and numb and every part of the body is clenched and in agonizing pain, check the time, 3:53 am. Find the courage and strength to start the car, repeat.
I don't remember often. I seem to be remembering a lot. The sirens. This whole disaster of my life ended with sirens.
I'm once again looking at the picture of the tortilla bowl. Alex wasn't making bowls but taking soft tortillas and making them into semi soft taco shells. He was good at that. We ate as a family that night sitting in a semi-circle on the living room floor enjoying tacos and green salad. Who would have known?
Who would have known?
I turned a page and my eyes caught a glimpse of a picture of a tortilla shaped into a salad bowl at the precise moment I felt an ice cold chill run down my spine at the precise moment that a siren wailed outside my city window.
I'm choking back tears and I'm petrified. It's fading. This is exactly like waking up from a horrible nightmare. The shock is so frightening and it fades second by second upon realization that you're safe and before you know it, it's gone. Just like that. And if you don't write about it within five minutes, you'll lose it.
The second my heart began beating again and I realized what had just happened, I tossed the new issue aside and reached for my laptop.
Crystal clear memories/visions untouched by my own perceptions or drugs regarding a very specific time in my life are extremely hard to come by. I do not force them. The vision just brought on by that tortilla, chill and siren would have brought me to my knees had I been standing.
I saw, as if it were happening this very instant, Alex standing at the stove shaping tortillas in a pan of sizzling oil. He's concentrating and I'm watching him and it's still only our first week in our new luxurious, white, clean yet unfurnished apartment. I may not have had all the hope in the world for my new life by the end of that first week but the situation was no where near as hopeless as it would become. That tortilla combined with that ice cold chill was shocking. You see, everytime I experience uncomfortable cold, I find myself remembering. Never had I been so cold than in those three months that seemed to last an eternity. Just my luck that I would be locked out of every bedroom in my own apartment left to sleep on the carpet under piles of dirty clothes a minimum of three out of seven days during one of the coldest winters in history. Just my luck that my roommates developed ways to keep me out even when I had all the keys to the front door. I have never been homeless, but goddamn do I know the agonizing pain of waking up in the backseat of a two door coupe in below zero weather under three blankets too cold to reach over the front seat to turn the key to receive heat. The thought of sticking my hand, head, or arm out of the blankets to help make the pain stop was too frightening to comprehend. Come to think of it, I don't think I was comprehending much in those days. But I do remember leaving the car running for a good twenty minutes, the heat on full blast getting that car good and steamy. Check the time, 3:07 am, kill the engine, fall asleep, wake up shivering and numb and every part of the body is clenched and in agonizing pain, check the time, 3:53 am. Find the courage and strength to start the car, repeat.
I don't remember often. I seem to be remembering a lot. The sirens. This whole disaster of my life ended with sirens.
I'm once again looking at the picture of the tortilla bowl. Alex wasn't making bowls but taking soft tortillas and making them into semi soft taco shells. He was good at that. We ate as a family that night sitting in a semi-circle on the living room floor enjoying tacos and green salad. Who would have known?
Who would have known?
Feeling Disappointed
Some of you may have heard by now about the James Frey scandal. I have been following it like a hawk since it started early this week. I'm not paying so much attention to the news reports because all they say is what I already know just twenty different ways. I've read what James has had to say on his website and I have read the very long report by The Smoking Gun. I watched James on Larry King Live last night and although Oprah still supports him though she is "disappointed" by the scandal, I don't know if I can say the same.
A Million Little Pieces by James Frey touched me in a way like no other book has touched me. My Friend Leonard did the same and I was glued to both and even talked about them several times in this here blog. I was so affected and so changed that not one day would go by that I didn't think of James' story or characters. It hurts to now know that they were just that; characters. His memoir turned out to not exactly be factual.
Although on Larry King Live he kept repeating over and over that he stands by his book and that only ten or so pages of his 423 page book are being disputed. Yes, but in my eyes, that doesn't necessarily mean that only ten pages are fictional. There is just no paper evidence of the other stuff that can be checked. We all know that in order to sell a memoir it must be written much like a fiction novel. Yes, James' book was very much over the top and unbelievable at times, but so is my story. So I believed every word he said whole heartedly.
I feel hoodwinked. He painted himself in a way that led me to believe he was some disturbed, angry, misunderstood, punk rock, raging alcoholic drug addict with no regard to anything or anyone who spat in the face of all authority and merely got by due to loyal friends. He was a criminal, an angry violent young man who took on the police and was charged with nearly every crime that would go along with such "fury" as he calls it.
In truth, James was a spoiled, cooperative, polo shirt wearing fraternity boy whose allowance from his parents paid for his drug and alcohol addiction. He did some fucked up shit but never spent one night in a jail cell, never took on the police and embellished nearly every detail of his run ins with the law in A Million Little Pieces.
He did not deny this. I am sad and disappointed. His actions have frowned upon the name of 'memoir' and due to his actions, memoirs will once again be marketed as fiction. Looks like it really is time for me to write my truthful story. Now more than ever, I have a feeling no one will buy it. It will just be compared to that 'lying conman's book'. I will market it as fiction based on fact and hope James didn't ruin it for the rest of it. You may be saying, 'well, if it's a good story, then it's a good story.' It's an amazing story, but come on now, the topic has been tainted.
There were days that I just felt good knowing that some key aspects in James' books were real. I feel loss now that I don't know the truth and I question Dear Leonard's existence. My favorite 'character' in any book I've ever read. He may have been a figment of James' imagination. And it hurts.
A Million Little Pieces by James Frey touched me in a way like no other book has touched me. My Friend Leonard did the same and I was glued to both and even talked about them several times in this here blog. I was so affected and so changed that not one day would go by that I didn't think of James' story or characters. It hurts to now know that they were just that; characters. His memoir turned out to not exactly be factual.
Although on Larry King Live he kept repeating over and over that he stands by his book and that only ten or so pages of his 423 page book are being disputed. Yes, but in my eyes, that doesn't necessarily mean that only ten pages are fictional. There is just no paper evidence of the other stuff that can be checked. We all know that in order to sell a memoir it must be written much like a fiction novel. Yes, James' book was very much over the top and unbelievable at times, but so is my story. So I believed every word he said whole heartedly.
I feel hoodwinked. He painted himself in a way that led me to believe he was some disturbed, angry, misunderstood, punk rock, raging alcoholic drug addict with no regard to anything or anyone who spat in the face of all authority and merely got by due to loyal friends. He was a criminal, an angry violent young man who took on the police and was charged with nearly every crime that would go along with such "fury" as he calls it.
In truth, James was a spoiled, cooperative, polo shirt wearing fraternity boy whose allowance from his parents paid for his drug and alcohol addiction. He did some fucked up shit but never spent one night in a jail cell, never took on the police and embellished nearly every detail of his run ins with the law in A Million Little Pieces.
He did not deny this. I am sad and disappointed. His actions have frowned upon the name of 'memoir' and due to his actions, memoirs will once again be marketed as fiction. Looks like it really is time for me to write my truthful story. Now more than ever, I have a feeling no one will buy it. It will just be compared to that 'lying conman's book'. I will market it as fiction based on fact and hope James didn't ruin it for the rest of it. You may be saying, 'well, if it's a good story, then it's a good story.' It's an amazing story, but come on now, the topic has been tainted.
There were days that I just felt good knowing that some key aspects in James' books were real. I feel loss now that I don't know the truth and I question Dear Leonard's existence. My favorite 'character' in any book I've ever read. He may have been a figment of James' imagination. And it hurts.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Better now
So I cried for a while last night and then went to bed EXHAUSTED and woke up tired but excited to weigh myself because I knew I lost. I'm fine now. Slept off the emotional mess that was last night's witching hour. Lost 1.8 lbs. this week. I'm pleased with that number considering all the jogging and quitting smoking and insane cravings. I am so excited to hit the gym today again. Now that I can successfully complete an entire 5K without walking for even a second I feel great! My progress was quick. Only right before Christmas had I jogged my first mile and then took a long break for vacation and now I'm jogging all three miles. It's so fun to me now.
I have a head ache and I'm coughing up some sort of downright nastiness from time to time. These gross smoking 'things' just keep encouraging my progress. I told Mike last night that I better not be doing this all for nothing and that I positively CANNOT smoke this weekend. I have a feeling I positively CANNOT consume alcohol then. If I do, Mike is aware that he is not to give me a cigarette. If I drink too much, his refusal to allow me to smoke mixed with my drunkness can get nasty. Yep, no alcohol this weekend.
I guess I may never write part two. I thought I pretty much said what happened anyway. If not, basically, I came out top dog but sweet and nice and sympathetic as always (this was a great act this time arund) and she came out looking pathetic and ashamed and embarassed. She asked me for my number and the only reason I gave it to her is because I know she'll never call. We agreed to try to get her some pot and ended up just getting enough for ourselves and P called her to tell her no dice and that was that.
I feel nothing for her. This is good. At least now I don't wonder. I admit, I've wondered if she ever laid in her bed looking around the room we spent thousands of hours in and wished we were still friends. I've wondered lots of things like that. She only wondered what I was up to I guess because I was the only one she couldn't dig anything up on. She wasn't emotionally overwelmed, she didn't apologize, we both remained at arms length and were polite but never an ounce apologetic or overly friendly. We were aquaintances who know all the same people and who can stand to be in the same room with one another and have hung out on occassion but never had an intimate conversation. That about sums it up. That is what any outsider would have thought.
They would have never even guessed we shared 13 years and EVERYTHING two girls aged 2 through 15 experience.
One more reason I don't think much of my childhood. Pathetic and Ugly have 90% of it.
I have a head ache and I'm coughing up some sort of downright nastiness from time to time. These gross smoking 'things' just keep encouraging my progress. I told Mike last night that I better not be doing this all for nothing and that I positively CANNOT smoke this weekend. I have a feeling I positively CANNOT consume alcohol then. If I do, Mike is aware that he is not to give me a cigarette. If I drink too much, his refusal to allow me to smoke mixed with my drunkness can get nasty. Yep, no alcohol this weekend.
I guess I may never write part two. I thought I pretty much said what happened anyway. If not, basically, I came out top dog but sweet and nice and sympathetic as always (this was a great act this time arund) and she came out looking pathetic and ashamed and embarassed. She asked me for my number and the only reason I gave it to her is because I know she'll never call. We agreed to try to get her some pot and ended up just getting enough for ourselves and P called her to tell her no dice and that was that.
I feel nothing for her. This is good. At least now I don't wonder. I admit, I've wondered if she ever laid in her bed looking around the room we spent thousands of hours in and wished we were still friends. I've wondered lots of things like that. She only wondered what I was up to I guess because I was the only one she couldn't dig anything up on. She wasn't emotionally overwelmed, she didn't apologize, we both remained at arms length and were polite but never an ounce apologetic or overly friendly. We were aquaintances who know all the same people and who can stand to be in the same room with one another and have hung out on occassion but never had an intimate conversation. That about sums it up. That is what any outsider would have thought.
They would have never even guessed we shared 13 years and EVERYTHING two girls aged 2 through 15 experience.
One more reason I don't think much of my childhood. Pathetic and Ugly have 90% of it.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Bad Ass Mood
I'm in a nasty, bitter, angry mood. I beat my 5k time today by 2:22. (Doug, thanks for the advice. You were right.) Work was fine. I did not exceed my daily food points. Overall it was a good day.
I've had about 8 cigarettes since January 1 and not one in the past three days and I'm really angry. I feel like crying but don't see the point. My mom just really pissed me off on the phone and she's only really pissed me off twice in the past several months so she seems to get all shocked and surprised when I speak my mind and try to explain to her why she pissed me off. (Usually she just does something stupid or says something really dumb but it hurts because I just really want her to understand.) So instead of listening, (something she never learned to do unless you were just sad and begged her to listen) she just kept repeating that she could tell what kind of mood I'm in and that she was just going to go take a xanax and go to bed; that now I'm the reason she has to take a xanax. I never yelled, never cried. Only tried to explain to her that she hasn't seen her son in almost a year and that inviting his stepfather to come with us when we go visit him in a few weeks was a shitty thing to do. (And I didn't even say the word shitty.)
I knew he wouldn't come. But that's not the point. She still just hasn't learned to put her kids first and fuck her husband if he has to sit home while we all meet up in Atlantic City for a few hours. She's overly considerate to him and there's no reason for it. But no, she wouldn't hear it.
"I can see that this is the kind of conversation that if you still lived at home, I'd have to call the police." Yeah, that's how low she goes. I speak my mind without yelling mind you and this is how low she goes. She did that to me before Christmas when I got upset and sad talking to her about the holidays and how she made me sad because she stopped caring about them.
I was an angry, violent, nasty little fuck of a kid. There is no evidence and not a trace of that terror in me now nor has there been for two years! I don't need these kind of low blows. I don't do that shit to her.
I can't smoke, I can't eat, I don't want to call Mike and cry to him because there's really no reason to cry other than the fact that I'm angry and sad and lonely and hurt by my past being thrown in my face everytime I try to speak my mind and I can't smoke can't smoke can't smoke. I just don't feel well and I wish it wasn't only Tuesday and in an hour I probably won't even remember any of this but I just wish I could smoke. But I won't.
How could she have possibly forgotten what I used to be like to confuse me telling her that she should have put (my bro) first and not invited my stepdad to AC with me threatening to kill her and pulling at my hair and foaming at the mouth. She really pissed me off. It's like she takes my friendship and patience for granted now and now I'm never allowed to get pissed at her.
This is all dumb. I have a headache. I can't leave my room or else I'm liable to start eating the banister or a piece of that homemade chocolate cake I know is in the kitchen or sifting through ashtrays. (Not that desperate. Totally kidding. If I do decide to smoke, I'll go buy some.) I know I can do this here in Philly alone. I'm petrified to be the only non smoker at the bar next weekend. Drink and not smoke? Is that even possible for a smoker? Smoking better get disgusting looking to me right quick. Did I forget to mention my Boyfriend is a heavy smoker?
I've had about 8 cigarettes since January 1 and not one in the past three days and I'm really angry. I feel like crying but don't see the point. My mom just really pissed me off on the phone and she's only really pissed me off twice in the past several months so she seems to get all shocked and surprised when I speak my mind and try to explain to her why she pissed me off. (Usually she just does something stupid or says something really dumb but it hurts because I just really want her to understand.) So instead of listening, (something she never learned to do unless you were just sad and begged her to listen) she just kept repeating that she could tell what kind of mood I'm in and that she was just going to go take a xanax and go to bed; that now I'm the reason she has to take a xanax. I never yelled, never cried. Only tried to explain to her that she hasn't seen her son in almost a year and that inviting his stepfather to come with us when we go visit him in a few weeks was a shitty thing to do. (And I didn't even say the word shitty.)
I knew he wouldn't come. But that's not the point. She still just hasn't learned to put her kids first and fuck her husband if he has to sit home while we all meet up in Atlantic City for a few hours. She's overly considerate to him and there's no reason for it. But no, she wouldn't hear it.
"I can see that this is the kind of conversation that if you still lived at home, I'd have to call the police." Yeah, that's how low she goes. I speak my mind without yelling mind you and this is how low she goes. She did that to me before Christmas when I got upset and sad talking to her about the holidays and how she made me sad because she stopped caring about them.
I was an angry, violent, nasty little fuck of a kid. There is no evidence and not a trace of that terror in me now nor has there been for two years! I don't need these kind of low blows. I don't do that shit to her.
I can't smoke, I can't eat, I don't want to call Mike and cry to him because there's really no reason to cry other than the fact that I'm angry and sad and lonely and hurt by my past being thrown in my face everytime I try to speak my mind and I can't smoke can't smoke can't smoke. I just don't feel well and I wish it wasn't only Tuesday and in an hour I probably won't even remember any of this but I just wish I could smoke. But I won't.
How could she have possibly forgotten what I used to be like to confuse me telling her that she should have put (my bro) first and not invited my stepdad to AC with me threatening to kill her and pulling at my hair and foaming at the mouth. She really pissed me off. It's like she takes my friendship and patience for granted now and now I'm never allowed to get pissed at her.
This is all dumb. I have a headache. I can't leave my room or else I'm liable to start eating the banister or a piece of that homemade chocolate cake I know is in the kitchen or sifting through ashtrays. (Not that desperate. Totally kidding. If I do decide to smoke, I'll go buy some.) I know I can do this here in Philly alone. I'm petrified to be the only non smoker at the bar next weekend. Drink and not smoke? Is that even possible for a smoker? Smoking better get disgusting looking to me right quick. Did I forget to mention my Boyfriend is a heavy smoker?
Friday, January 06, 2006
Part 2? Nah
Sorry for this not being part two. I'm not pleased with how I wrote Part one probably because I never meant to write it. I just had to start at the beginning to get to my point. How I was shown a picture of Ms. Ugly at Pathetic's house and Ugly turned up in my dream two nights ago transformed from the 16 year old image of a phillippino I have hated since age 15 to a whole new 24 year old Ugly. I've been hating, loving, fighting, fearing the image of Ugly at 16. I was not pleased to hate the 24 year old version of her in my most recent dream. I don't mind hating her or anything. I'm just not pleased knowing what she looks like now. Not because she's very pretty or anything and I mean that. She's been obsessing over the same man for the past 11 years and and on her 18th birthday he finally came for her. (You see, he's in his late thirties.) She preached straight edge her whole life until (we'll call him pedophile) came along and that all got whisked under the rug. She dreamed of being an artist or musician (and she was damn talented). Now she's the live in girlfriend of a semi famous band frontman (yeah, you've heard of them goddamnit) and he has been putting off their marriage for the past three years! She seems to have lost all concept of individualism and she sucks even more except the fact that she's semi famous for being the shadow of someone semi-famous and everyone just loves her! Not me. I hate her. Get this, the name of her myspace account which I only glanced at because I would have looked a little crazy if I refused is "Ugly and Pedophile" (just with their real names.) I told you she lost all concept of individualism.
No, I'm not curious to look. Seriously. I haven't been to it. She's pretty though. Super skinny! Wanna know why? I'll tell you. She almost died from some weird intestinal thing and Pedophile even cut his European tour short to rush home to be by her side while FOUR feet of her intestines were removed. Hmmmm, I'd be pretty skinny too.
I realized something last night. Out of the four people who have hurt me most in this world, Ugly ranks number 3 and Pathetic comes in at number 4. This scale goes Worst to least, one to four. We don't talk about one and two. No. We don't. Except for the following guess.
One - Most likely in jail or dead
Two - Most likely dead
Three - Very ill for over a year, almost died, fiancee keeps putting off marriage, did nothing with life
Four - Near crippling back injury, cannot sit or stand for more than twenty minutes, no income to speak of, applying for third time for permanent disability, smokes pot and cigarettes and watches E! all day in hot pink flamingo pajamas.
Hmmmm.......can you say......Karma? I believe in Karma. I also believe I have paid my dues and am now good with the Man upstairs. Of course I have nothing to do with the above four outcomes. I didn't attack Pathetic with a blunt object. And of course I am also not implying that they have had or are having tough times because of little old me. If it sounds that way, I do not mean it to be. I just think it's a little coincidental is all. But they're toxic people so if such a thing exists as Karma or "What Goes Around Comes Around" they're being paid back for a whole lot more than just me.
I will write part two probably over the weekend. It's not that exciting. I thought I'd feel changed or relieved by seeing Patheitc. As dumb as it sounds, remember in Kill Bill II when Bud asked eye patch lady which 'R' she was feeling; regret or relief. Of course that doesn't apply to me but I feel neither. Want to know why? I think I had finally gotten over her. I don't care anymore. I can't even say we 'buried the hatchet' because I was so cool and collected and she was so pathetic. My intentions were never to go there and discuss the past. That would have been burying the hatchet. Yelling and screaming at her and telling her how she ruined my life and I hate her and she sucks and she's pathetic and she always was and I always knew she was a loser and would never amount to anything and I could go on and on.
But then......wait.....she didn't ruin my life? Ah ha! I thought she did. For six years I thought she did. But then I changed and my whole world changed and life starting looking good and to make an extremely long story short, I have become grateful for every single goddamn thing that has happened to me. I still hate, but not as much. I had no desire to yell at Pathetic. There was no need. I felt indifferent. It was over. I left there that day feeling an ounce of pity for her and then forgot about her nearly as soon as I got in the car. I know I looked fine, without talking much or bragging I gave just enough information to let her know I was doing great. I drove away proud of myself while she either lit up a bong or sat and thought, 'wow, Jess is doing really good. I'm a loser.' It doesn't matter and I'll never know.
I think I may have just finally closed a chapter that went on way too long.
No, I'm not curious to look. Seriously. I haven't been to it. She's pretty though. Super skinny! Wanna know why? I'll tell you. She almost died from some weird intestinal thing and Pedophile even cut his European tour short to rush home to be by her side while FOUR feet of her intestines were removed. Hmmmm, I'd be pretty skinny too.
I realized something last night. Out of the four people who have hurt me most in this world, Ugly ranks number 3 and Pathetic comes in at number 4. This scale goes Worst to least, one to four. We don't talk about one and two. No. We don't. Except for the following guess.
One - Most likely in jail or dead
Two - Most likely dead
Three - Very ill for over a year, almost died, fiancee keeps putting off marriage, did nothing with life
Four - Near crippling back injury, cannot sit or stand for more than twenty minutes, no income to speak of, applying for third time for permanent disability, smokes pot and cigarettes and watches E! all day in hot pink flamingo pajamas.
Hmmmm.......can you say......Karma? I believe in Karma. I also believe I have paid my dues and am now good with the Man upstairs. Of course I have nothing to do with the above four outcomes. I didn't attack Pathetic with a blunt object. And of course I am also not implying that they have had or are having tough times because of little old me. If it sounds that way, I do not mean it to be. I just think it's a little coincidental is all. But they're toxic people so if such a thing exists as Karma or "What Goes Around Comes Around" they're being paid back for a whole lot more than just me.
I will write part two probably over the weekend. It's not that exciting. I thought I'd feel changed or relieved by seeing Patheitc. As dumb as it sounds, remember in Kill Bill II when Bud asked eye patch lady which 'R' she was feeling; regret or relief. Of course that doesn't apply to me but I feel neither. Want to know why? I think I had finally gotten over her. I don't care anymore. I can't even say we 'buried the hatchet' because I was so cool and collected and she was so pathetic. My intentions were never to go there and discuss the past. That would have been burying the hatchet. Yelling and screaming at her and telling her how she ruined my life and I hate her and she sucks and she's pathetic and she always was and I always knew she was a loser and would never amount to anything and I could go on and on.
But then......wait.....she didn't ruin my life? Ah ha! I thought she did. For six years I thought she did. But then I changed and my whole world changed and life starting looking good and to make an extremely long story short, I have become grateful for every single goddamn thing that has happened to me. I still hate, but not as much. I had no desire to yell at Pathetic. There was no need. I felt indifferent. It was over. I left there that day feeling an ounce of pity for her and then forgot about her nearly as soon as I got in the car. I know I looked fine, without talking much or bragging I gave just enough information to let her know I was doing great. I drove away proud of myself while she either lit up a bong or sat and thought, 'wow, Jess is doing really good. I'm a loser.' It doesn't matter and I'll never know.
I think I may have just finally closed a chapter that went on way too long.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
How I paid my Nemesis a visit on Christmas Vacation
I haven't slept more than an hour without waking up or tossing and turning since I've been back. My bed rocks and our gas bill was $400 so my room isn't sweltering like it was before I left because I think my inconsiderate roommates may have learned their lesson. (Oh yes, we have gas wars. They turn it up and I turn it down and that's how it will go allllllllllllll winter.) Thank God this is it. Every month now in the house will be my last.
I'm a good sleeper usually. I don't know what the problem is. I have been having the scariest most amazing dreams since my second night on vacation. (My friend Roman attributes this to the late night eating and my serious change in routine for vacation time.) I slept amazing in Jersey though. Hard to wake up scared when you're wrapped up tight in the arms of the person you love.
Something amazing happened last night though. I have been dreaming of my nemesis, (we'll call her ugly for the sake of this post) for the past eight years. Yeah, I know, get over it blah blah blah. I've been to therapy for it, I prayed to God to please take my hatred away, I've done all I can. I still dream about her about once a week. I think we have unfinished business. Business we will never finish.
My other nemesis who I swore all my life I would forgive if she wanted me to, but not Ugly. No No No. This other nemesis, (we'll call her pathetic) well, she hurt me real real bad. She only turns up in my dreams occasionally, to this day still lives around the corner from my mom's house, and has this horrible back injury that has prevented her from working, driving a car, making an income, etc. for the past two years! She smokes pot, smokes cigarettes, lives in the biggest pig sty of a room I have ever seen, and lays in her pajamas all day watching E!.
How do I know this? I know about the back stuff from the grapevine and her father who is still awesome and hugs me every time he sees me. How do I know the other stuff? Because I went to see her during vacation.
How I paid my Nemesis a visit on Christmas Vacation
By Jessica
Paola and I were drinking margaritas and having lunch in the restaurant we used to work in. Paola also was a friend of Pathetic's. They just lost touch. No hard feelings. While sipping my third margarita (remember, I used to work there so naturally the bartenders know me and make them extra strong) Paola carefully mentions that she had spoken to Pathetic through Myspace.com. (She did this carefully knowing how I feel about Pathetic.)
Supposively everyone of the old crew has a myspace page but me. (Myspace can kiss my butt) and in Pathetic's life of nothingness decided to look everyone up. Paola and Pathetic were polite but there seemed to be no talk of hanging out or getting together.
After speaking to our good friend Mark (an old friend and waiter at the restaurant), also a victim of Pathetic, we decided it was about time we paid Pathetic a visit. This was nerve wracking and a tough decision to make. Mark could not do it until the next day and it was now or never for me so Paola and I went. No, we didn't call first. We did not want to give her the opportunity to 'fix' herself in any way.
So we went.
Tune in tomorrow for Part 2.
I'm a good sleeper usually. I don't know what the problem is. I have been having the scariest most amazing dreams since my second night on vacation. (My friend Roman attributes this to the late night eating and my serious change in routine for vacation time.) I slept amazing in Jersey though. Hard to wake up scared when you're wrapped up tight in the arms of the person you love.
Something amazing happened last night though. I have been dreaming of my nemesis, (we'll call her ugly for the sake of this post) for the past eight years. Yeah, I know, get over it blah blah blah. I've been to therapy for it, I prayed to God to please take my hatred away, I've done all I can. I still dream about her about once a week. I think we have unfinished business. Business we will never finish.
My other nemesis who I swore all my life I would forgive if she wanted me to, but not Ugly. No No No. This other nemesis, (we'll call her pathetic) well, she hurt me real real bad. She only turns up in my dreams occasionally, to this day still lives around the corner from my mom's house, and has this horrible back injury that has prevented her from working, driving a car, making an income, etc. for the past two years! She smokes pot, smokes cigarettes, lives in the biggest pig sty of a room I have ever seen, and lays in her pajamas all day watching E!.
How do I know this? I know about the back stuff from the grapevine and her father who is still awesome and hugs me every time he sees me. How do I know the other stuff? Because I went to see her during vacation.
How I paid my Nemesis a visit on Christmas Vacation
By Jessica
Paola and I were drinking margaritas and having lunch in the restaurant we used to work in. Paola also was a friend of Pathetic's. They just lost touch. No hard feelings. While sipping my third margarita (remember, I used to work there so naturally the bartenders know me and make them extra strong) Paola carefully mentions that she had spoken to Pathetic through Myspace.com. (She did this carefully knowing how I feel about Pathetic.)
Supposively everyone of the old crew has a myspace page but me. (Myspace can kiss my butt) and in Pathetic's life of nothingness decided to look everyone up. Paola and Pathetic were polite but there seemed to be no talk of hanging out or getting together.
After speaking to our good friend Mark (an old friend and waiter at the restaurant), also a victim of Pathetic, we decided it was about time we paid Pathetic a visit. This was nerve wracking and a tough decision to make. Mark could not do it until the next day and it was now or never for me so Paola and I went. No, we didn't call first. We did not want to give her the opportunity to 'fix' herself in any way.
So we went.
Tune in tomorrow for Part 2.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
So Far So Good
If you've been reading this blog for at least a couple of weeks, you'll know that I discuss food pretty often, i.e. baking, cooking, healthy stuff. I also discuss my weight from time to time. Getting fitter and being healthy are two of the most important aspects of my life. I weigh myself on Wednesdays and was away last Wednesday so I did not. In the past 14 days I only gained 2.2 pounds. I was so stoked. Ten of those 14 days I was away on vacation denying myself nothing so imagine my surprise. It is true. Once you change your habits, your new habits are habit. I couldn't binge like I used to I am proud to say. If I'm giving off the impression that I'm super fat or anything, well, I'm not....at all.
So yesterday I hit the gym with my new Nikes and had a blast. I beat my previous 5K time record by 4 seconds. I'm still too embarassed to list the time. (Doug, you'd be ashamed.) I hit up the hot tub to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders and hit the steam room to get all that New Years alcohol and all that holiday sodium out of my system. It was a good day. I'll spare you the details but went home and had an amazing supper too. I was in a gourmet mood.
I know this isn't a very interesting read, but it's what's on my mind. Starting off the New Year right. Since waking up January 1st until right now I have only had four cigarettes. I really think I'm serious about trying to kick this habit. I'm fighting off a sore throat and I'm really hoping it's not a cold but just my throat healing up a bit. This year is gonna be big and I know it, it's about time I felt really good about myself. Afterall, wouldn't that make every day just a bit better regardless of how the day goes.
Back to smoking, good thing I'm staying in Philly alone this weekend. No temptation. Mike smokes a whole lot. I really hope one day when he's ready he'll stop. I won't be a bitch about it, but he's really gotta try not to smoke a lot around me. A relationship between two smokers can get a little 'strange' when one beats the habit.
I'm excited to go back to the gym today. Maybe I'll take a class. I'm just excited for this new year. So far so good.
So yesterday I hit the gym with my new Nikes and had a blast. I beat my previous 5K time record by 4 seconds. I'm still too embarassed to list the time. (Doug, you'd be ashamed.) I hit up the hot tub to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders and hit the steam room to get all that New Years alcohol and all that holiday sodium out of my system. It was a good day. I'll spare you the details but went home and had an amazing supper too. I was in a gourmet mood.
I know this isn't a very interesting read, but it's what's on my mind. Starting off the New Year right. Since waking up January 1st until right now I have only had four cigarettes. I really think I'm serious about trying to kick this habit. I'm fighting off a sore throat and I'm really hoping it's not a cold but just my throat healing up a bit. This year is gonna be big and I know it, it's about time I felt really good about myself. Afterall, wouldn't that make every day just a bit better regardless of how the day goes.
Back to smoking, good thing I'm staying in Philly alone this weekend. No temptation. Mike smokes a whole lot. I really hope one day when he's ready he'll stop. I won't be a bitch about it, but he's really gotta try not to smoke a lot around me. A relationship between two smokers can get a little 'strange' when one beats the habit.
I'm excited to go back to the gym today. Maybe I'll take a class. I'm just excited for this new year. So far so good.
Monday, January 02, 2006
It was great
Happy New Year, everyone! I am back from a wonderful ten days with my boyfriend and families. Christmas was really great and New Years was awesome. I am a little sad to be back and I rather not go to work tomorrow but overall, I'm anxious to kick start the new year and get back on track and get through this Philly winter and look for my new place in April/May.
I got my license on that Friday before Christmas. The DMV turned me away twice and treated me like a terrorist and wouldn't cut me a break at all and just would not understand that my wallet was stolen, i.e. all identity was stolen and they're just jerks. Everything they asked for:
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
How do you expect to me to come up with six points of identity when my wallet was stolen?
Stolen.....
It just went on like that for a while and they were very mean. After two trips to my old highschool (which was weird) I supposively had proved to the DMV that I am the 5'7" 23 year old I was claiming to be. Fucking jerks.
What can I say about Christmas? It was wonderful. I got the best presents I can remember ever getting and both at my mom's and at Mike's felt sinful opening my massive piles. It was so strange and I felt so spoiled but I took nothing for granted and enjoyed every second of it.
Favorite gifts:
Albus Dumbledore's wand in authentic Ollivander's wand shop box
New Nikes for the gym
Between both mine and Mike's family, we got every single piece to our 1950's Retroville Christmas village for our first Christmas together next year. The village is massive and we're gonna need a lot of space for it.
There was just so much and everything was awesome.
The food was great, the family was great, the time with Mike was amazing. One of my favorite moments was laying next to the tree on Christmas Eve in our new Christmas pajamas exhausted and snacking on leftovers. His parents were at midnight mass and his brother was out playing cards and we just layed there watching Iron Chef of America and got all into it and just enjoyed each other. Then I put out milk and cookies for old times sake and we went to bed. That was one of my favorites.
New Years was spent someplace new. Our host was an aquaintance of ours and a good friend of our good friends. The majority of our 'crew' were all in attendance and the VIP lounge was bumping and the alcohol was flowing and the coke heads went somewhere else (Yes!) and it was so easy to have a good time because there was no drama and just good peeps so it was real easy to relax. I never got sick. I managed to maintain perfect drunkness for three entire hours. Don't ask me how I did it. I was impressed. Around 2:30 we got in a cab and went home and passed out. New Years Day was a blast with Mike being it was our last day together of my vacation and we were tired and crabby and stinky and lazy and we just slept and ate and laughed and watched bad tv all day. It was great.
So my gym bag is packed for tomorrow after work. I weigh myself Wednesday but I think I may have put on six lbs in the past two weeks. Seriously. I just don't believe in dieting around the holidays and maybe I'm just super bloated from all the salt but I feel gross and am super excited to get back on track.
I am so optimistic about 2006 and feeling so positive. Knock on wood. Besides some bullshit I have been very fortunate in 2005. It was the best year of my life hands down. That's a scary thought. I actually think 2006 may be even better and that's an even scarier thought. No shoes better drop around here.
Have a great year, everyone!
I got my license on that Friday before Christmas. The DMV turned me away twice and treated me like a terrorist and wouldn't cut me a break at all and just would not understand that my wallet was stolen, i.e. all identity was stolen and they're just jerks. Everything they asked for:
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
How do you expect to me to come up with six points of identity when my wallet was stolen?
Stolen.....
It just went on like that for a while and they were very mean. After two trips to my old highschool (which was weird) I supposively had proved to the DMV that I am the 5'7" 23 year old I was claiming to be. Fucking jerks.
What can I say about Christmas? It was wonderful. I got the best presents I can remember ever getting and both at my mom's and at Mike's felt sinful opening my massive piles. It was so strange and I felt so spoiled but I took nothing for granted and enjoyed every second of it.
Favorite gifts:
Albus Dumbledore's wand in authentic Ollivander's wand shop box
New Nikes for the gym
Between both mine and Mike's family, we got every single piece to our 1950's Retroville Christmas village for our first Christmas together next year. The village is massive and we're gonna need a lot of space for it.
There was just so much and everything was awesome.
The food was great, the family was great, the time with Mike was amazing. One of my favorite moments was laying next to the tree on Christmas Eve in our new Christmas pajamas exhausted and snacking on leftovers. His parents were at midnight mass and his brother was out playing cards and we just layed there watching Iron Chef of America and got all into it and just enjoyed each other. Then I put out milk and cookies for old times sake and we went to bed. That was one of my favorites.
New Years was spent someplace new. Our host was an aquaintance of ours and a good friend of our good friends. The majority of our 'crew' were all in attendance and the VIP lounge was bumping and the alcohol was flowing and the coke heads went somewhere else (Yes!) and it was so easy to have a good time because there was no drama and just good peeps so it was real easy to relax. I never got sick. I managed to maintain perfect drunkness for three entire hours. Don't ask me how I did it. I was impressed. Around 2:30 we got in a cab and went home and passed out. New Years Day was a blast with Mike being it was our last day together of my vacation and we were tired and crabby and stinky and lazy and we just slept and ate and laughed and watched bad tv all day. It was great.
So my gym bag is packed for tomorrow after work. I weigh myself Wednesday but I think I may have put on six lbs in the past two weeks. Seriously. I just don't believe in dieting around the holidays and maybe I'm just super bloated from all the salt but I feel gross and am super excited to get back on track.
I am so optimistic about 2006 and feeling so positive. Knock on wood. Besides some bullshit I have been very fortunate in 2005. It was the best year of my life hands down. That's a scary thought. I actually think 2006 may be even better and that's an even scarier thought. No shoes better drop around here.
Have a great year, everyone!
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