where is my adult/child support?

I moved back home just about three months ago. I spent the first month and a half dealing with Christmas stuff, catching up with some bills, and hanging with my family. Now that I've completely settled back into life in New York, it's time to face the music. I have an unfurnished bedroom and I need to do something about it. I've been window shopping on Ikea and Sleepy's, in an attempt to find my "perfect mattress match." In a matter of days (or weeks) I will lay down on a bed in public, for the first time, and make a subsequent purchase.

Things I would do with money if i had it right now:

Buy a bed.
Buy shelves.
Buy a full length mirror.
Buy a bookcase to store my boxes of journals on.
Buy my mom a new wardrobe. She's been wearing a scrunchie in public and I can not let her slip down the mom-ward spiral this way.
Go camping.
Learn to ski.
Buy skiing attire, be a snow bunny in the cabin and not ski at all.
Buy a lot of film. A LOT of film.
Buy new sneakers.
Buy a pair of TOMS so that a child could also benefit from my over consumption of clothing and apparel.

I don't have very much money, but I did just buy a new pair of sexy time boots:

And when I get paid next week, I'm buying a ticket to Miami for a weekend getaway because not paying rent is a sweet sweet existence.

I said it once today, and I'll say it once again: Call someone you love, and tell them so. I finally know how to and it's fantastic. I urge you to try it out.

say it if you mean it.


what are you looking at?

I explained to him that the reason I have a mirror placed on the wall directly behind my computer is because I enjoy looking at myself. Though it comes off as completely conceited and shallow, my intentions were otherwise. I am on a constant quest to understand what I look like, as I've always been frustrated with the inability to see oneself the way anyone else does. So, that's what I look like is the only reaction I ever seem to have as I stare back at myself in photographs. It's as though I have no idea who I am. These are the revelations I have at work.

I think I might look completely different if I didn't have a freckle in my right eye.

Today's big life question:
What's lonelier? Being partially single, or completely alone?


wear jeans. oh and that white t-shirt.
make sure your jeans are the dark ones-
I like them the most.
Don't shave! (you promised).
and when we kiss, don't forget
that time is just another man made myth.

I have plans tomorrow, but I just got the urge to take myself on a date tomorrow. Maybe to go see "Youth in Revolt," as it seems like something I might enjoy seeing alone. Tomorrow I'd like to walk slowly.


twitchy itchy fingers

It's really cold. My knees ache, and my fingers feel stiff. 19º F with a wind chill factor that makes it feel like 8º. My wrist is cracking. Yet, for whatever reason I feel like I can't get to sleep without writing a brief note. I'm thinking about Dan Connor again. Actually, I'm watching Dan Connor again. He makes me swoon. Fills me with smiles little girls should have for their dads and then for their husbands. I like Dan Connor.

Generally speaking, I think women like men that are like their fathers. This is typically the case for women that have had men who positively influenced their lives. In my story, which mostly lacks a positive male character (save for my Granddaddy*). I've realized that I substituted my family's men with Dan Connor, Tim the Tool Man Taylor, and other white men in flannel shirts, work boots and tool belts. They go to work, they come home and eat dinner, joke, romance, build things and love their wives. This happy family exists and one day, like a coveted Barbie convertible, I would like to have one.

I don't want to sleep. There are always one or two nights a week where I can't seem to get my eyes to shut. I watch Roseanne and sulk about romance; I watch the Golden Girls and yearn for the future. At night, I can't wrap my head around the "right now" -I can't turn off. And then I sleep. When I wake, it's as though none of yesterday ever happened. In the morning I feel like a machine.

Here's another tidbit of information: When no one's looking, I drink straight from the carton.

I believe her:

*The foundation of my love for beards, button-downs and chest hair.


I almost just fell over on to my mom. THERE you are equilibrium-disorienting-hangover.

I've woken up everyday for the last 5 days singing "And so this is Christmas..." The holidays are over and for once in a really long time, I'm very happy that they happened. David pulled out the old video-camera last night and asked everyone what their most memorable part of 2009 was and what they are looking forward to in 2010. My response was as follows: The most memorable part of 2009 was moving to California and MOVING BACK. What I look forward to in 2010 is... getting my shit together.

It's the truth.

Here is something I want every prospective love interest/slumber party host to know about me:

If you decide to wake up and make my breakfast, I like my eggs scrambled together. Please I beg of you, do not bring a plate of over easy/runny eggs. I will pretend to be pleased, but you will know the truth. You will be disappointed in yourself for failing to make me happy and breakfast will be a failure. Omelets are the key to my heart. Omelets with a lot of things in them (spinach, mushrooms/olives, feta cheese and sundried tomatoes a.k.a. the Mediterranean being the ultimate) are the best.

Oh and before you go milking up my coffee, ask me how I want it. My preferences changes with my mood. Everything changes with my mood.