Tonight I will be sitting on the couch by myself watching Woody Allen movies and drinking one of those baby bottles of champagne, missing my boyfriend. And tonight there will only be 15 more days until I get to see him. And tomorrow he is driving to Boston to help his friend/new roommate move in. And I wish I could go too.

And I started weight watchers again today.

And I want to go to camp next week, but right now I just really want to go back to New York and be by myself in my own apartment, at the very least.

christmas vacation

Being home has always been kind of a weird thing for me. It is kind of like my life stops. My mom is making me (well, not really making me, but I'm more likely to do it if I pretend that she is) learn how to drive a car. Again. It sucks. I have a few things that trigger my underlying anxiety disorder, and they are: driving, shopping malls, and Times Square. Yesterday, my mom made me encounter two of three.

So other than forcing myself to endure exposure therapy in the form of driving my sister's car and get my license hopefully next Wednesday, the only thing on the docket is camp, which I am thrilled about.

After vomiting for the third consecutive year on Christmas, I have vowed to kind of stop drinking very much. For Jon. I don't drink a lot in New York anymore because I am too fucking busy. But hey, I got a 3.9 this semester (3 A's, 1 A-. That's right. Suck it). Anyway, it really scared him that I was puking on Christmas. And I called him beforehand. Why? Because that's what I do when I'm drunk and gonna puke. I get scared. And he got scared, too. But I only have 5 glasses of wine or so, so I was really scared, 'cause it was weird. Anyway, it freaked him out, especially since he's used to me being able to handle myself, so I promised him I would lay off. And I have. Since that point I have had a glass of wine at dinner once and I think there's a glass of champagne in the future with my parents on New Years... not that I'm doing anything on New Years, because I'm definitely just staying in.

I have friends here at home, but I have very little drive to see them. I think this is for a few reasons: 1. missing Jon overshadows anything I might miss about them and 2. ...meh. I'm kind of indifferent about most things in California.

BUT. 11 days until ACE Camp, 13 days til back in New York, and 18 days til back with my boyfriend.

I miss my boyfriend. 36 more days. At least I get to spend 20 of those days at home, being completely bored and plied with free food and booze, and also by being forced to get my drivers license, endure my family and log in a session at church (just what I need). It is so weird that Pennsylvania has become the place I want to go when I think to myself, "get me the fuck out of here."

I think my mom is finally going to meet him, on our 6 month anniversary weekend. She wants to come to New York and see a play or something. It's also my and Oscar's housewarming party weekend, so I guess Peggy is coming to the party! That'll be delightfully weird.

3 finals and a final paper to go. I'm only really worried about the very last final and maybe the paper. But at this point in the semester, it's like, yeah yeah yeah whatever.

One apartment move to go. Oscar and I get the keys from the super this afternoon, and then I do my usual and buy a forty and spend the entire afternoon/evening/night packing up all my shit, as my aunt will be coming in the early morning hours to assist me in leaving.

I have an odd enjoyment of the feeling of my own stubble.

happy humpday

The boy and I had a wonderful wonderful wonderful wonderful wonderful weekend, and of course to mark that, Monday night we had kind of a bad argument. Not our first, but one of the first and kind of a biggie. But we are all okay now and so that is good. Only 38 more days until I get to see him again... I think when that happens my face will crack from smiling.

Last non-final test of the semester was yesterday, got a 93. Chicka yeahhhh. Presentation in an hour and a half, wooooops we're just gonna wing it. Move into apartment - living by myself for 10 days, since Oscar won't move in until after finals - Saturday. Huge paper and final on Tuesday. Final on Thursday. Final the following Monday. Fly home to CA the day after (22nd).

Weird how I don't want to go home per se, but I just want to get the fuck out of here... and go where? To Pennsylvania, no doubt. Shiiiiiit.

I am starting my gym resolution the day after I move into the new place, since it is only a few blocks from the gym, as opposed to a 15 minute walk in the cold like the place I live now. My gym resolution is to go at least 5 times a week. I am thinking about making myself a chart with gold stars on it.

I feel fat today. My roommate and I ordered pizza last night. Mistake.

Yesterday I was stricken ill, as I am often wont to do, and tonight I am supposed to be on a bus to the boyfriend! What's a girl to do?! Well, luckily, my class got cancelled for this morning, so I did my laundry last night, went to bed at 11, and didn't get out of bed til quarter after 9. Now I am packing my little suitcase because bitch got things to do today! mainly being I am getting paid to take a mentee to the Tim Burton exhibit at the MoMA - chicka yeahhhhh. Then come home, pick up my suitcase, buy cold medicine and candy for when boyfriend and I watch Elf, go downtown for coffee with my writing professor whom I'm obsessed with, and back uptown to hop on the bus.

yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Pennsylvania! yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy boyfriend! He says he is going to take care of me, as I am sickly. What a sweet boyfriend!

amazing how a conversation that makes me cry on and off for like two hours leads to me feeling really, really great about my relationship. speaking of which, relationships are weird. but i like this one. i can't wait to be with him friday night. almost there!

oh my god

this is hard. this is really hard. i have never been in a relationship for this long and it's hard. why is it hard?! i hate crying and i've been doing it for more than an hour. if you are going to break up with me because i tell you i love you too much because i never fucking get to see you, do it fucking now and not while i'm stranded in pennsylvania.

oh i wish you could meet my boyfriend, my boyfriend who lives in pennsylvania

When he's asleep in Pennsylvania and I'm awake in New York, I just want to call him, wake him up, and (selfishly) say, "It's time to start your day, babe. Spend it all day talking to and missing me," as though he doesn't already spend a huge amount of time doing that.

I wish I was able to get more homework done when he's sleeping than when he's talking to me, but the productivity level is sadly about the same.

I see him for the last time until I come back from winter break at home this weekend, and I am so scared of being away from him for almost 6 weeks.

i'm not so good at being a city girl.

Coming back to the city from somewhere else has always been kind of weird. It feels like I've left my life and am just now returning to it, which used to be a cool thing and now it feels different. It used to be that I would feel this huge sigh of relief gusting out of me in my first step back onto the city street. When the place I'm leaving is one that contains the boyfriend, the feelings are a lot more mixed, often quite sad from missing him and his sweet wonderful puppyself already.

Coming back from other places is more interesting. I had a really nice, relaxing time in Long Island with extended family. Coming back into the city with my suitcase full of Thanksgiving food, pumpkin cookies, and 9 bottles of pumpkin beer was... I'm not sure. It felt okay, which in itself was weird, given how I would like to flee screaming from New York in general and my dorm in particular and take up residence somewhere else, somewhere near, next door if possible, to Jon, somewhere less insane.

But I felt okay coming back yesterday, so I'm hoping this will be a good week, the last one of sanity. This week nothing big is due at school, but the following week there is a quiz and presentation; the week after that, a final for one class and a term paper for the other, followed by another final two days later. I am also supposed to move into my apartment during this week, because... the following Monday is my last final and the next day, I zip right out to California for Christmas and New Year's and ACE Camp(!) and all kinds of other nonsense, where my brain and I will be sleeping until mid-January, missing my man and, possibly, my life, quite a bit.

I will probably also be trying to learn to drive and get my license for those three weeks, so I suppose that could be construed as productive time spent.

Happy Thanksgiving blogosphere

I have one more class, my autism seminar, then it's off to lunch with def a friend from here and maaaaaybe a friend from home. There will be pumpkin beer at this lunch because I mandate it. And then... Long Island for Thanksgiving. Should be fun :)

typical.

To-Do for Today:

Draft a 6 page term paper to be turned in tomorrow morning.

Sit through Social Psychology lecture, Divorce in America lecture, Perception recitation.

Go to work in Brooklyn.

Print out papers and fill out ones that require it.

Locate some office to turn the papers into.

Laundry.

To-Do for Tomorrow:

Turn in 6 page draft.

Go to silly Social Psychology recitation.

Turn in time sheet.

Turn in forms to office.

Laundry if didn't do Thursday.

Homework for Autism Spectrum Disorders and reading for Social Psych.

Bus to Pennsylvania at 5:30!

To-Do for the Weekend:

Be with the boyfriend!

Sleep!

Smile!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

get out of the bathroom get out of the bathroom get out of the bathroom i woke up 14 minutes ago needing to pee like crazy and ahhhhhhh get out get out get out

i can't resume studying until i urinate... or until this house cools down. jesus christ it is like 80 degrees in this apartment at 5:30 in the morning.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck midterm tomorrow.

the start to a ... well, a week.

An ear infection. Perception midterm on Wednesday that, if I do better on it than the first, will count for half my grade. Term paper draft due (technically Tuesday but it's fine if I turn it in Thursday). These things all hurt pretty bad. My reward? Sugarfree Red Bull and getting to see my boyfriend Friday night in Pennsylvania.

Also I think I bagged me a roommate (one of my best friendsies Oscar!) for the big-girl apartment. Which will be like Oscar's 3rd apartment and his current one-bedroom is gorgeous so I have no doubts that we will have funnnnn!

tired on a friday afternoon.

hm i don't know how to change my little headline... i turned 20 in august.

school is a lot. work is a lot. missing my boyfriend is a lot. feeling fat is a lot. but it is going to be alright.

the boyfriend has become, in addition to being the boyfriend, the best friend. i've been in love but it hasn't been this good before ever. we are both very very happy with each other. i just wish pennsylvania was closer.

i am going to be getting my very first big-girl apartment soon and living all alone for the first time in december/january. i have very little gym motivation lately, which saddens me, but the big-girl apartment will be a lot closer to the school gym so i will probably feel more likely to go then, especially after i resume daily treadmilling at home over winter break.

sometimes i wish sleeping was like hitting pause on your life. say i wanted to go to bed at 11 (hell, i want to go to bed now). so i would get in bed, fall asleep, sleep til i don't want to anymore, climb out of bed, and it would be 11:01. how great would that be?! i would get so much work done and never be tired.

i'm the luckiest girl in the whole world and if i just keep working my ass off, everything will work out.

sometimes having a boyfriend and really really knowing that you're just not gonna want anyone else is hard. more often, it's really very nice. but sometimes, it's hard. i wish i didn't cry as often as i do. though usually he is the one talking to me about what made me cry, not the one saying or doing it.

sometimes not though.

we are going to be calvin and hobbes for halloween in pennsylvania. we will be very cute, no doubt. he slaved over his costume.

oh dear.

my life is crazytown. so are the lives of all my friends. my boyfriend is the only one who isn't crazy. luckily, he mistakes insanity for "adorableness."

:)

He's in my bathroom! Instead of going out last night, when we had two options, we watched a DVD, had sex, and went to bed at 11. I love him.

(And he has to go back to Pennsylvania tonight... boo hiss)

no more adventures for me.

Asshole Boyfriend wondered if me being madly in love with the bf would lead me to have less adventures and misdeeds. Sadly, yes, though my life is no less ridiculous, and the bf cannot claim full credit - I have also been (cue gasps) doing all of my homework and reading for the 4 psych classes, while working 18 hours a week and putting in two hours a week at a school for autistic children here in the city.

For instance... it's 7.10 right now. I've been up since 6, and reading the Stanley Milgram obedience study since 6.30. Coffee's been made, cookie dough's been nibbled at (I have to go grocery shopping today and get real food), zits have been covered in shit to dry them out (I swear it's like I'm growing a new cheekbone).

Some adventures I've undertaken: a decision not to go abroad next semester, since my mother got laid off a few weeks ago; a subsequent decision to locate an apartment that will be cheaper or around the same price as this piece-of-shit dorm, without the slovenly soccer-playing lesbian roommate or the bunkbed; new birth control (well, not that I was on birth control for a significant amount of time, but the first three months of yaz were hellish); the Snow Patrol concert last week (sheer musical bliss); copious amounts of psychology; oh yeah, and being crazy in love with a boy who lets me maintain my insanity, though I've abandoned my old partygirl self.

I'm not too upset with becoming one of the more boring of my friends: I don't drink as often or as much, quantity-wise, so I don't embarrass myself or get lost or fall down or vomit or become (too) hungover; I try to get enough sleep; I overcaffeinate; when in doubt, Regina Spektor.

I'm so in love with him.

jon

A few hours into our weekend together, he asked me to make it official. He said it felt right. It does! It hasn't "felt right" with a guy for the longest time. I am on top of the motherfucking world. Had such a great time with my BOYFRIEND, even when my little country boy lost his wallet in the big city. The distance thing is going to be hard, but we are both so busy that I am hoping the days between when we see each other will fly by.

summer

The boy is coming Friday night!

With my new commute, I have a lot of time to read, and have been reading some really good books: The Tender Bar, The Book Thief, and People of the Book. When I finish People of the Book (otherwise known as Wednesday before work, regardless) I am going to go to the Mid-Manhattan library and get a library card and take out a few books. Loving this summer!

Other than that... work work work love love love friends friends friends beer beer beer train train train attic attic attic boy boy boy life life life.

baaaaaack.

Well, I'm back in New York after a whirlwind wonderful (tiring) Camp. Living in my aunt and uncle's attic, which they have done up really nice for me. It's nice, but I miss being on my own at school. A lot. They're nice and are doing so much for me, but there are these things that just... make me wish I wasn't here. The biggest one: they use the r-word. A lot. I hate that. Were I not related to them and were they not putting me up for 7 weeks, I would say something, but as it stands, I just try not to flinch when it comes out. The commute from Long Island is doable and I don't mind since it is just for the rest of the summer, but yeah... kind of a pain, especially when I work in Brooklyn, because then it becomes like a 2 hour excursion. Each way.

I've been trying to see my friends and stuff, working more than I do doing school, blahblahblah. Jon is coming up not this coming weekend but the weekend after and I am pretty excited. Made a fool out of myself on Saturday and don't feel too bad about it, but I think that will be the last time for a while. Tomorrow will be the last weekday I don't have work, forseeably, so I am hoping that I can get some friends and some wine or something and go to Central Park and be lazy. We'll see.

My life basically consists of this: me running around New York working drinking laughing wearing myself out and mostly loving it.

CAMP is here!

Finally... the camp I've been volunteering at since I was 15 - this is my 5th time - is here! Camp Re-Creation is disco/rock star themed this year, so I got myself a sequined vest, figuring I could just wear it over normal clothes and feel disco, and a few other little things. Today I get to pack up my stuff, and tomorrow morning, wake up bright and early, drink my weight in coffee, and go to the counselor orientation I've already sat through 4 times. I used to enjoy that day, Saturday, before the buddies come, just hanging out with kids my own age and all that, a lot, but now... I usually just end up thinking, "God I wish the buddies were here."

Camp Re-Creation is a camp for adults with developmental and intellectual disabilities and is my favourite thing in the entire world. This one week here is the best week of my year, and we try to make it the best week of the buddies' years as well. I basically am exploding with anticipation. I can't wait to see the buddies, MY buddy, my team, and start singingyellingcheeringdancingsmiling nonstop and taking lots of pictures, mainly to show the boy, but also to keep me cheerful in New York.

http://recreationcampoc.com/gallery/

Watch the video at the very bottom of the page. It is the most amazing thing in the whole world and keeps me smiling on a hard day.

This is the perfect way for me to leave California - I get home from Camp on the 4th, then there is usually some sort of party that evening, am taking my mom to the Tegan and Sara/New Pornographers/Death Cab for Cutie concert on the 5th, packing up on the 6th, and OUTTA HERE on the 7th and back to work, my friends, the boy...

oh dear.

Sometimes, when little redheaded girls take shots in a parking lot, they get drunk and call the guy they're sort of dating and have only met in person ONCE and tell him that they love him. ... like fifteen times.

Thank god he is a grown-up and has been very understanding of the impaired mental state. I am slightly worried this will ruin the whole thing we had going, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

I'm a moron.

falling down.

I like him more than I have ever liked anyone in almost 20 years and I talk to him every single day for hours. We say cute things. We talk about snuggling. He likes me, too, and he knows that I am a ridiculous floozy who is obsessed with cheese and Patricia Arquette's teeth and everything I adore like a crazy person. And he still likes me.

Also today the animal handler texted me out of the blue to apologize for being an asshole months ago when he blew me off and I found myself not giving a shit, and able to say, "It's cool. I'm fine. Hope you're well," and then ignore all further attempts at contact.

I found myself just thinking of Jon and how he is so much better for me.

YES!

July 7th - good enough! 

Here's the plan: I fly out to JFK, get in the evening of the 7th. During the 5-day week, I'll be living in my aunt and uncle's attic in Long Island and working probably three days a week babysitting the same boy I sit for during the year. On those three days, I'll probably take the train in to Manhattan in the morning, go the gym at school, shower there, maybe grab lunch with one of my friends or hang out in the park or something, and then make my way to Bensonhurst for the afternoon. On the other two days, I will probably stay at my aunt's house and help her with her kids, laundry, dishes, all that good stuff, just hang out. On the weekends, I will stay with a friend in the city and do the crazy stuff we kids like to do. This is also good because when Jon comes to visit (probably only once during the summer) we can crash at a friend's. My aunt and uncle would so not be down for me to bring a boy home to their attic. He would only come in once because obviously it's more optimal for him to be sleeping in my room, so we're not imposing on friends or whatever. I move in August 30th I think, and I will have my own room and be down the hall from my girlfriends in the 20shit Street dorm, and of course that's perfect for him to visit.

We've been talking a lot, still daily, and I swear, this whole long distance thing is the only thing wrong with us. Other than that, we are great, good, and glorious together.

Cannot wait to see all the kids! Oscar, Rachel, Abeer, Amy, Jenny, Liz, Ankit, Andrea, Matt, Jeff, Jake, Suzanne... and Jon :)

making it work

I gotta get my ass back to New York. July 6th. Let's make it happen!

my life right now.

Weird nights with kids I wouldn't be friends with if I were in New York. Drinking cheap beer in Peter's Canyon. Shitty job market made shittier I really think by the fact that I am not what is expected of a 20 year old white girl in Orange County - not blonde or thin, and I don't talk like a valley girl. Horrible dreams where I am looking for something, always questing - I slid down some ice and broke my fucking nose in the last one, no joke. Watching my mom and dad fight about moving to Colorado, leaving my mom crying because she doesn't want to leave her family, especially my grandpa, who has cancer, and leaving my dad silent and really fucking pissed... but we're not moving.

At the end of a 40 minute phone conversation with a kid who hates talking on the phone, Jon and I talked very very briefly about what would happen if the whole visiting thing actually happened - would it be a casual, friends with benefits kind of deal, would we be considering dating, blah blah blah. After the conversation he sat down and wrote a poem about fish sex. I think this is proof that we belong together for at least a little bit, but I also thing the whole long distance thing is kind of doomed, so we'll see.

Also, prop 8 - what the hell?! I can't believe something so disgusting has been permitted to stay a law. I am not an eloquent woman, and I really can't even formulate words to describe how saddened I was to hear that so many of my friends are still being treated like second-class citizens and second-class humans, but also because there are people in the world who believe that it's right, which I think is even sadder.

Conclusion: Should have stayed in New York. No question. I would have had 3 part-time jobs and no school, saving some cash. The only reason I came home was to save my parents some money, which is great and in that respect I am really glad I am... but I also came home to get a job and save that cash for me for when I go to Prague, and right now, even with my resume sent to like 40 places, it's really not looking so hot.

wednesday's adventure.

Wednesday was a great day. I went to lunch with a buddy of mine from Camp, Jill. It was so nice to see her, and my friends who also volunteer at Camp, Dani and Shaun, once more, after my 4 months in New York. It was really nice. Camp is happening in 30-something days and I could not be more THRILLED! I need to get some costumes and fanfare going for our theme (a surprisingly tricky one) disco/rock star. We'll see how this goes haha. And I know they haven't paired buddies yet, but... I WANNA KNOW WHO MY BUDDY IS SO I CAN MAKE US MATCHING SHIRTS. I am still crossing my fingers for Theresa, whom I've never had before but is AMAZING, or for one of the millions of new buddies we are rumoured to be getting this year. Yvonne apparently is the biggest baller on this planet, other than the great Diane, love of my Camplife.

My g-bf Josh and I had an epic adventure to see my other love, Ben Folds, in LA. SO GREAT. We encountered a very flamboyant Latino businessman who encouraged us to use the passing train as a backdrop for a picture; we rode the Metrolink for the very first (and possibly last) time; we ate at a Mexican restaurant called Tidal Wave, which featured pizza, burgers, salads, and sandwiches; we made friends near us at the Ben Folds concert, Percy (real name Ian) and Jim (real name Steve); WE SAW BEN FOLDS. Also, Sara Bareilles and Josh Groban were randomly there - what the fuck? - but we rolled with it. Josh Groban sang "Still Fighting It," which was interesting, but I don't really support it. Only Ben should sing that song, not an opera-pop bastard. Not that I don't think Josh Groban is kind of a baller, because he is, and he's very physically attractive, so that's helpful.

Ben was amazing. AND HE PLAYED BITCHES AIN'T SHIT EVEN THOUGH HE DOESN'T PLAY IT ANYMORE. I almost died of joy. It was wonderful.

Also... in an interesting power struggle between my parents, Josh was first relegated to sleep in the living room. I argue against this but am finally resigned. Then my mother returns from within she and my father's bedroom to say, "Would it be easier if he slept in your room?" And I was like, "YES." And she was like, "But on the floor, right?" Let me preface this by saying that I have a queen-sized bed, have shared a twin-sized bed with this kid before, and... oh yeah... HE LIKES MEN SO WE'RE CLEARLY NOT HAVING SEX. Super awkward. I am pretty sure my dad said something to her like, "Who gives a fuck, Peggy, let the little fag sleep in her huge bed. Jesus Christ she's 20 years old and tattooed, for shit's sake."

In other news... my tattoo is healing nicely and my gladiator sandals come up perfectly to juuuust below it; my family may or may not be moving to Colorado at the end of the summer; I think I have interviews with Macy's and Cherry On Top frozen yogurt next week (YES! A JOB!); and tonight my friend and I are driving up to UCLA to be silly for her birfday, the big 2-0.

saturday.

I got a tattoo, and Jon is graduated. Epic day. It's a puzzle piece with little puzzle pieces making it up - my own little symbol for autism just above my ankle.

:)

Jon graduates tomorrow :) We talk every single fucking day and it's pretty nice, albeit extremely long-distance for the entire forseeable future, espesh if I go to Prague. But it's nice and he's nice.

That's all I wanted to say.

pacific standard.

I have come to realize that I despise the Pacific Standard Time Zone. It is almost 8 o clock here, but my lucky brethren on the East Coast have 11 pm! What the fuck! I want to go to bed, son! And I know what you're thinking... if you want to go to bed, go to bed, Liz. Well, I tried that, smartass. If I go to bed at 9:30, I will have really awkward sleep patterns, nightsweats, and bad dreams. Tonight I have to make myself last til 11 - which is 2 am in New York and Pennsylvania, where all the important people live! Jon will maybe be awake that late, but I mean, I don't know, and do I really want to interrupt his last night of college drinking? (As I text him...)

So far, being home is pretty boring, but I am also pretty sure that I have lost some weight, which is cool. The job market is a fucking bitch and I don't really know if I will get a job, to be perfectly honest, though I am hoping I get just one fucking call. I will work ANYWHERE.

There was a weird fucking party last week that I ended up at with a girl I've known since I was 4, though we didn't go to the same high school, and randomly, a bunch of kids who actually did go to my high school but never talked to me were there. It was weird because they hardcore hit on my friend, talked to me like we were buddies, and were actually nice. It was also weird because one of them apologized for being a douchebag in high school (which he kinda was, but it's not like I was losing any sleep over it), and the other one told me he thought I was so mellow in class I must have been a huge stoner, only for me to inform him that I was probably buzzed on my Special Coffee. A rando kid told me about how his parents were really rich and walked me home and kissed me for about a nanosecond, mostly because my friend had turned him down (and slapped him). I actually had an entourage of 4 drunk people walking me home, passing a bottle of Jaeger: that rando kid, an ex male cheerleader from my school who apparently will "hook up with anything with a pulse," a girl he was trying to score with, and the nice kid from my high school whose 21st birthday it was.

But yeah so I've been hanging out with that girl a lot and I had lunch with my best girl today, who is leaving me for Boston and then Paris until July, and that was nice. If I can find a motherfucking job, maybe I will survive.

Cool thing: I ended up apparently doing really well on the last essay for my writing class, and my professor put it in the stack for consideration by way of committee for this book NYU puts out every year called Mercer Street, which is essentially the "good" essays for a particular year written by the students and then they make next year's freshmen read them in their required writing class. Pretty cool, I guess. I don't know if mine is in or not, but at least I know I got an A in that class.

the golden state.

Well, that's it, I'm home. So far, it's good. My parents are really excited to see me. My mom bought me a 12-pack of Harp, my favourite favourite beer... though, she does not really know, due to various circumstances, I can only drink like... one per evening. That's fine. My dad wants to help me finish it. And my dad is making scallops and halibut for Mother's Day. Wondrous! 

I slept 12 hours last night. Wondrous!

Packing didn't go as optimally as planned. I had to leave a lot of stuff for Erica and her parents to throw out for me because I just didn't have room for all that stuff in my life... or in my suitcases. It's okay. Everything is going to be fine. I'm trying not to dwell on it.

I started reading Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs on the plane yesterday - I know, I'm years behind the times, but let's be realistic, when it first hit shelves in 2003, I was... oh, yeah, 14. I think I'm in love with Chuck Klosterman. No big deal.

I also have been researching some Clinical Psychology MA and Ph.D/PsyD programs in New York and Boston. I have found a few that I really like, Ph.D/PsyD-wise. A cool MA program is much easier to find. So far the schools that have both that I think would be a good fit are at the New School, Massachusetts School of Professional Psychology, and Pace. MSPP has a concentration in Child, Adolescent, and Family Psychology, which is awesome. And Northeastern... they're not accredited yet and I think they only offer Counseling Psychology, but they also have a cool interdisciplinary thing on Early Intervention with kids with developmental disabilities... which is like my life's dream to do, so that's also something to look into.

I also have been trying (and thus far failing, but it hasn't even been one day) to find a job here in California. I don't need a job working with people with disabilities - I'm totally fine working at a coffee place. I just need regular work and regular income.

My mom and my sisters are going shopping. My sister is graduating from high school soon, so we all have to get dresses and blahblahblah. Actually, I'm fine on dresses... but I need a pair of flats, so I am just going for the shoes. 

also... woops.

Today I realized that I have legitimately gained the freshman fifteen but during sophomore year, so starting Wednesday -- aka the day after Cinco de Drinko with the sign language lovers -- I am going low carb and mostly quitting drinking and going to the gym again regularly. I did low carb in high school and it was pretty effective, since I am no longer 200 pounds, so I am thinking that this could be good. Get the extra 15 off and then keep going from there, since it's not like I'm a small girl. It's gonna happen. It's gonna be great. Lots of egg whites. Lots of chicken breast. Lots of fish. Lots of spinach. I'm going to look way better.

Now... if only I can get through this essay, the packing, and my last exam...

this is how i feel.

For weeks I have been looking forward to going home to California. This semester -- this year, really -- has been a rough one, a growing one, and I am tired and I need to get out of New York and away from being stressed out all the time. I need a good night's sleep, multiplied about 100 times, I need it to be warm, I need to not worry about money, I need the fresh fruit and veggies that are never as delicious here.

Right?

I had my last day of volunteering at the JCH today, and even though this is like, the least-involved of my jobs, it was pretty weird to say bye to it and to the people, who asked me back for next fall, and I might even get paid, depending on the time span of the session. I feel like I have such a full, fucking intense, multidimensional world here, my jobs, the people I work with, many groups of friends, many career-related associations now, and even just the different areas of New York City that I have frequented in the past two years. I've worked in Harlem, the Bronx, Brooklyn, the Upper West Side, Midtown. I have friends who live in Gramercy, the West Village, Stuy-town, Little Italy, Chinatown, Brooklyn, and Alphabet City.

I think next summer, even though I am going to Prague in the spring, I am going to live in New York, with a short jaunt home to go to Camp. I want to make this world my home and I also want to learn to live here without getting so tired and without wanting to run home for a break. I think I will appreciate California this summer, though. I have a lot to look forward to. Camp Re-Creation, for the fifth year, an anatomy class with Eric, hopefully having lots of hours at a job I at least semi-enjoy, getting my drivers license, casual beers with friends, chilling out in the sun.

I am trying to look forward to everything everything everything. Cross your fingers that it works!

hot mess.

Lately I have been going out a LOT. Lots of drinking, lots of gibberish, lots of giggling, lots of dumbassery.

Tonight... LADY GAGA. I am dressed as a slutty disco ball. Shit's about to get real.

tuesday.

As I listen unintentionally to the garbled (we closed our door so she could have some privacy), tearful, angry words exchanged for the 47 billionth time between my suitemate and her boyfriend, via phone, after having a lovely little chat with Penn about him visiting me in the fall, upon my return to New York, I realize a.) I might not be a cat lady, and b.) relationships are stressful. While they reap so many rewards, being single (read: completely alone) offers its own benefits, and I am young. I should enjoy them while they are here.

In other news... it is very very warm here in NYC today. As I always say... When in doubt, dress like a whore!

No, but really... otherwise you will sweat to death.

Also, I refuse to be scared of the swine flu until I am forced to be, so if I could make it through the next two weeks without any of my finals being cancelled, that would be great kthnx.

i will be a cat lady.

It struck me that resistance is futile. I am doomed to the fuku of being fucking weird, not cute, and, to quote many a human, "too much."

It strikes me now that I am not "too much" for me, but "just enough." While I have met many humans who share things in common with myself, such as a love for a television show (who doesn't love Arrested Development? Come on), a taste for cheese, or a loathing of the "r word," I have never met another who shared the thought that I was "just enough" and not "too much."

penn.

He's a Creative Writing major, so his thesis was a 94 page novella. He emailed it to me because I told him to. It's pretty good. It's funny. I can't believe someone I made out with at a party and talk to just about every day could write like this.

I have such a long-distance crush it is out of control. If we are still talking through the summer, he is going to come visit me.

sunday afternoon.

My friends and I got the worst dorm in all of NYU dorming, but since I am only going to live there for a semester in the fall before I jet off to Prague, I should be able to tough it out. The girl who was going to be my roommate, one of my best friends, decided she is probably going to go to Madrid in the fall, so if she does that, her name is still on the room, and even after it's not, no one is going to want to transfer into the 26th Street dorm, so I will have a single, too. My friends live down the hall, and then the girls in the other bedrooms will be strangers I guess. Not a problem. I kind of like that better I think.

I feel like I am so fucking done with school, but, as per usual, school is not done with me. I have a final paper for my writing class that I need to be re-drafting and re-turning in every like two days, I have two sign language presentations, I have a final diagnosis/treatment paper for the treatment class, I have an exam for that class, and I have an exam for cognition. Fuuuuuuuuuck. I am making valiant attempts to get the shit all done, but with work and this beautiful weather Doable, though, I think. My winter stuff and my tv and my kitchen stuff and books/DVDs I don't want to take home will be going in the back of my aunt's car to live safely in an attic in Long Island again, my spring/summer clothing, DVDs, and other random shit will come home with me, while everything else will either go in the garbage/be donated if I don't use it anymore or whatever. It's going to be a shitshow.

Yesterday was the most beautiful day we've had so far in New York this year and I had to spend almost all of it inside, at an orientation for a job I've held successfully for three months. I get paid for it, though, so at least that's a plus.

Coming soon... finals, finals, finals! Figuring out what my post-undergrad plans are. Figuring out where I am going to get a job this summer. Getting my drivers license at the age of 20. Turning 20 - the most anticlimactic birthday ever, though my ID will be turning 23, so it's not like I won't be able to celebrate. An anatomy class at Santiago Canyon for the summer with my friend Eric. Packing: the journey. Arranging for weekend trips to UCLA in May and San Francisco in probably July or August. Camp Re-Creation shopping. Camp Re-Creation and all associated shenanigans. Drinking with the parents. Seeing my friends. Being sunny. Chilling the fuck out.

I am starting to wonder if living in New York for the rest of my life is the best idea, given how badly I want to get out right now. I don't really know. Maybe after school things will be different. Maybe a different living situation. Maybe being closer to my friends next semester than I was this year will help. I loved freshman year, after all. I think California just sounds so goddamned idyllic right now, but after like a month, I'll be sick of it and ready to come back. It's the oldest story in the book. Only want what you don't have.

in a nutshell.

My life: school, work, worrying about housing.

Today I skipped my second class to go get a cheesesteak with the cowboy. It was pretty fun, and it was my very first cheesesteak. We are going to go with Pat C. Hoy II, god among men, next week, so I guess that's another class missed. Oh well.

Registration went really well. I am taking a seminar on Autistic Spectrum Disorders that I am really excited about, a class called Divorce in America that looks very interesting, Perception (gag me with a wooden paddle), and Social Psychology. Big Psych semester ahead!

Work is going alright... especially knowing that there's only two weeks of it left before I take a break and get a summer job at home in (very fucking) sunny California. Supposedly it is insanely hot there right now, right as we are just ending rains, hopefully for the next two weeks at least! I am very excited about returning to babysitting Christopher and helping his mom out with the new baby, and about returning to JobPath, a company I can see myself working for for a long time.

Housing for next year is going to suck balls because NYU gives juniors the lowest housing status... so even though my time was today, my friends' time is tomorrow, and I want to try to at least live like next door to them, if not in their suite. I was hoping to be suitemates with Bit, but it looks like she is going to go to Madrid, so it is not to be. I don't really mind the idea of living with strangers much if the girls are down the hall or next door. This year, even though I lived with people I knew, these particular friends were way too far away, and I know I don't want that to happen again. Anyway, it looks like since we have such a late time, it is going to suck balls, but I am hoping we get into Lafayette (ironic statement of the week, anyone?).

I've been talking to the guy from the cowboy's party I hooked up with like every day, but I kind of don't think I will ever see him, even though we get along very well and make each other laugh and had great chemistry. He is graduating from Penn State in a few weeks and then going home to southwest PA to work and save some money so he can leave Pennsylvania. .... I fucking hate Pennsylvania, I've decided, as it is a very large barrier to me being with this kid. Ah well.

The best thing about going home is Camp Re-Creation. The second best thing is less stress. The third best thing is reuniting with some of my best friends, from Camp and from high school, and like one girl from grade school. The fourth is that my sister is going to college in the fall, probably UCLA, and I think my mom is going to let me teach her how to drink so she doesn't become one of those kids who goes to the hospital after their first party because they don't know their limit. Admittedly, I have only recently truly embraced "knowing my limit," but never have I had to go to the hospital or have my stomach pumped or anything. I want to teach her to play flipcup and to enjoy cheapass beer.

Last night my mom texted me to tell me a.) that she had just finished watching the Sex & the City movie and had informed my father that he would be making the two of us (read: me and my mom, not my mom and dad) cosmopolitans all summer, and b.) that she and my father were watching The Daily Show at the same time I was. Pretty fucking awesome. Kind of can't wait to chill out with my dad and drink a beer and watch The fucking Daily Show. I love Jon Stewart.

Speaking of beer, the last two nights of mine were spent remembering why Harp is my favourite fucking beer of all time... while I did my homework. 

i have become an asexual. don't worry.

I literally refuse to breed with anyone other than myself. Yesterday the animal handler, the SAFETY SCHOOL of all of the men in my life, blew me off with no explanation and no apology, fully knowing that he was going to get some. This made me feel very ugly and disgusting and hateful, and so I stuffed jumbo shells with ricotta cheese, slathered them in tomato basil marinara, and continued to hate myself while watching When Harry Met Sally and drinking cheap chardonnay.

Today I figured out that I can (and therefore should for financial reasons) graduate a semester early. This immediately freaked me out and sent me into spirals of questioning myself about what I want to go to grad school for (Occupational Therapy vs. Child Psychology//Counseling vs. Early Childhood Special Ed) and where (do I want to stay in New York or maybe go to San Francisco/Oakland or do I want to go somewhere completely different?!). I then figured out that I have only 3 weeks left of this semester, with a 10-12 page paper, an 8 page paper, 2 sign language final presentations, and two final exams. And my jobs, which I can't call out of, as both my bosses know when I go home/come back. The up side? I will be home in 3 weeks and that much closer to Camp (and sleeping, my absolute favourite thing to do in California) and free food/wine. The down side? The girl who loves sleeping the mostest has to quit. And so it is 12:15 and I am about to start my writing homework and then I have some reading to do, and I will probably fall into bed around 4 and wake up at 8... totally doable.

I also maybe am getting my tonsils out this summer.

Something funny today happened, though, thank god.

A homeless man outside my old dorm had two signs, the first reading, "I'm Not a Playboy," and the second one reading, "I'm Just Sexy All the Time." As I passed by with my friend, he said to me, "C'mon sexy, let's get married already!" My response, of course was, "I'll have my people call your people." It was pretty amazing.

well, that lasted 30 seconds.

...and just like that I am back to clusterfuck city. School is out of control right now, work has been anxious for various reasons, social stuff clearly iffy, an interview to be a site leader for a trip like the one I went on for spring break tomorrow, and general intense stress. Also, as of Saturday night, I am officially a drunk whore. Actually... no, okay, fine, as of August 2007 I am officially a drunk whore, but I reclaimed my title Saturday night with a senior from Penn State, who at least looked cute in his picture when I soberly added him on facebook just for funsies. The animal handler is coming tomorrow evening, so maybe he will calm me down, right after a (horrible) 2 minute presentation I have to do in my sign language class, which I have decided to title "3 Months Late," much to my Deaf teacher's amusement, which is immediately after the interview. I'm a mess. I'm a really big mess. The biggest mess of all is Liz. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck can I please just go home right now? I just want to run home to California and sleep for like twelve hours and get up and go to a bar and drink beer with my surrogate big brother Adrian and go to camp. Please please please.

it's alright :)

I don't even know. I am doing alright. School is school. Work is work. I'm going on a diet after Easter (aka Monday). The animal handler is coming in on Friday, supposedly. I hope I'm not on my period. The cowboy is having a housewarming party tonight. Erica and her new man might be joining me, but if they want to stay here and have sex, I mean, whatever. Blah. Stuff is good. I have cheese. I will be going home in less than a month for the summer and at this point, let's be really honest, I can't wait.

ew.

I'm still sick. I threw up in public for the first time on Saturday after eating vegetables for dinner... and hadn't been drinking. Beer is the only thing that doesn't make me feel queasy, awkwardly enough. Last night's chicken noodle soup and a piece of bread? MISTAKE.

I give up on food.

new day.

Well, I had a great day yesterday, albeit exhausting, and I chopped off all my hair this morning! The dawning of a new era?!

okay again.

So after being massively ill since Tuesday afternoon, unable to eat without horrible consequences, the worst headache of my nineteen years of life, fevers, etc. I am now feeling decently well enough, which is perfect, as the more-demanding of my jobs, the babysitting one, is this afternoon.

After Monday being a shitshow for various reasons and then being plunged into the plague, I was starting to wonder if I had terrible karma. It's a possibility I haven't yet ruled out, but it also gave me some time to think about who and what are really important to me, and who and what haven't been important to me for quite some time, or if their importances have changed.

For instance, acid hips. SO over it. Have been for months. The only thing I needed to drive the thing home was him berating me and being really mean to me for something I still don't even know or understand. It actually felt pretty good to be able to tell him I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, that I have a life, and I'm sorry he heard whatever he heard, because that must have sucked to hear, but it's not true.

The cowboy. We're friends. That's all I want.

I am starting to think I'm asexual, actually. I have been really pretty uninterested in men, generally, for the past two weeks or so. I don't know. I don't know anyone whom I would want to date, I guess, and I'm tired of looking or convincing myself that one of my acquaintances actually would be great for me. I'm feeling fine with being alone for a good long time.

I also feel like I really have such regard and love for my friends, and I watch the way Erica is with hers... or at least, the ones who smoke with her. I feel like they become vehicles of weed for her, with annoying personalities attached. She was more mad at acid hips for what he said to me than I was, but the next night, he was in my bedroom, smoking her up. She calls them names behind their backs, but is all down to hang out if there's weed. It makes me a little sad. It makes me wonder what she tells people about me. I don't know. I like the way my relationships are. At least they're based on a connection, even if they are between two very fucked-up people, which often, they are. But I guess that is the relationship between me and her, seeing as I don't really smoke weed, given that I'm an alcoholic and I don't like to mix, so I shouldn't really worry about her relationships with other people, as long as ours is okay.

As I've said, I've had a lot to think about, and I was really sad for a while, but I think I am finally okay.

It's been the worst day, out from fucking nowhere. I'm done.

giant neck-bruise.

Not an amazing date. I kind of wasn't feeling it. The conversation was okay, though, so I guess I was more uncertain than certainly not feeling it. His credit card got declined, so I paid for our dinners. He took me back to his room but then was like, "It's really messy. You're not going to want to stay here." And I, Queen of the Messy Rooms, was like, "Believe me, I'm sure it's fine." And we went in and it actually was pretty bad, and he looked like a really sad dog, so I took pity on him and said, "We could hang out in my room if you want. I don't know who all is there, but yeah..." So we go up, and it's just Christea and Owen, Erica, my actual roommate, is nowhere to be found. He and I watch exactly one episode of Arrested Development on my bed. After one episode, Arrested Development was permitted to continue to play, and we were making out, and I am going to let you know... if a person is not a good kisser when they're drunk, against all odds, they may very well be worse when sober. Which sucks. He wasn't like a shy kisser, because those kids are trainable. He was pretty aggressive about it, and those kids take so much more work, so I gave up and let him suck on my neck for a while because then I wouldn't have to either gag on his tongue or have him suck my bottom lip so damn hard and not let it go. I swear to god, he would just suction my bottom lip and not do anything else, for like thirty seconds. He was just holding it with his lips. It was awkward.

So anyway, I need to find a way to say no, if he asks me out again, and I also would LOVE it if he slipped me some cash for his dinner, and also, let's be honest, I have a massive hickey on my neck and I am supposed to be both working with small children and having dinner with my grandparents tonight. Faaaaaaaaaaantastic.

the straights, the gays, the girls.

My life has been really busy lately and I am just goinggoinggoing and I need to start doing better in school and shit but there's just so much of it. Coffee and sugarfree Red Bull in the day, wine at night. Welcome to my life for the rest of the semester. I'm going insane.

Date with D2 tonight. I don't really know how that will go.

The animal handler got a new job, starting in May. He had gotten laid off by the place where he worked at the beginning of this month, and so now he is going to be a NYC Park Ranger. He says he will get to do some neat wildlife programs in whatever park he is assigned to. I am trying to decide if I am changing his name to the park ranger. The animal handler just sticks so well, though. It's catchy.

My friend from home, Mike, is staying with me right now. It's been really nice to see him. He is part of the reason I don't have a lot of study time (but I think the biggest problem is no motivation). Last night he and his ladyfriend didn't get here until like 1:30 and I was drunk and it was ridiculous, but I don't think I did anything terribly offensive, so that's kind of fabulous and so incredibly rare, given that I really don't have a strong handle on my behaviour when I'm sober either.

Suzanne was here yesterday. She, Bit, and I had brunch and cackled like the crazy bitches we are. That was really really good. Bit got french toast and gave Suzanne and I a piece because she couldn't eat it all.. I was still kind of working on it when the guy came to take our plates and he tried to take it and my kneejerk reaction, I swear to god, was, a gasped, "Don't take that!"  I felt bad for being so rude, but he just laughed at me, so that was okay. And then everyone laughed at me for a good three minutes.

I found the best sushi place last night, by the way. It's by where I babysit, and I got a yellowtail roll and a spicy tuna roll for $5.45. That's right. Rolls that cost $2.50. I love my life.

Josh and his friend Jeff were here all week and I saw them on Tuesday and Thursday. We went and saw Hedda Gabler, which I actually didn't really like, but Mary-Louise Parker was, as she is in everything, amazing. I swooned. She was such a frigid bitch and she did it so well. She was kind of frigid at the stage door, too. We three homosexual males that we are just nodeed knowingly, assuming she was in a Mood. On Thursday, it was four gays and me having drinks around Oscar's sickbed. The gossip that was flying in that room was obscene, absurd, and magnificent.

Fun fact: At the beginning of this semester, I got blackout drunk and hooked up with this guy who lives down the hall. He's completely unattractive, but a nice guy. He's also insanely theatrical and overbearingly Italian, which only adds to the unattractiveness. Anyway, apparently when he gets drunk, he talks about it and tells people that I have a really good body. Which can't actually be true, but I will take the positive press anytime.

I feel apathetic about a lot of things, particularly myself. Not doing as well in school as I usually do. I just want to curl up in my bed and sleep for a few weeks.

goddamnit.

Well, maybe he didn't miss me, but at least he gives a shit, rather than my bitchily inconsiderate roommate. I had to sleep on the couch last night, and no, not because she sexiled me, but just because she is massively oblivious to anyone besides herself. I'm honestly still so annoyed that I can't even bitch about it right now because, let's be honest, it would maybe come out skewed. I have every right to be pissed, though, of this I am sure.

I don't think he missed me.

shenanigans in cincinnati.

Ohio was amazing. Even now I am sitting here, having slipped back into my New York life semi-effortlessly, wondering if I really went, or if I dreamed it. My group, whom I previously thought of as distant, separate parts I had not ever gotten to know, became the most tightly knit cluster of ridiculous and amazing people. The nine of us, eight girls and one Ben, were living in the huge Over the Rhine intern house - Over the Rhine is a community housing neighborhood of Cincinnati that tries to put out affordable housing options -- aka you pay 30% of your income on housing, leaving the rest for food, clothes, etc. We visited mostly sites that were walking distance or definitely close to the area of our house. A homeless shelter (the Drop Inn Center), a few food banks/pantries, some soup kitchens, a free community art class to give the neighborhood kids something safe and stimulating to do, and we even did some legitimate manual labor, helping Over the Rhine clear a lot so that they could build a small parking lot/playground.

The organization that was hosting us and planning our itinerary, Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless, planned a bunch of activities for us, like Lunch on Food Stamps. They also had a speaker come to our house, Mark Teegarden, who told us his story of how he became homeless, lived on the river for years, and eventually made his way out of homelessness. He was truly an amazing and insightful man, full of sarcastic humour, wisdom, and perspective. He stayed at our house with us for the night, and literally all we wanted to do was hang out with him. He took us to get ice cream in Kentucky, smoked a few cigarettes with Paulina and me, and let us talk and goof around with him. He's in advocacy work now and will be moving to Wisconsin pretty soon to get married at age 50. He's such a BAMF, in short, and I think our whole group learned so much from him. The next morning, at 7:15 (I was always the first to crawl out of my cot toward the shower), he and I were the first ones up and were able to have a good talk. I felt like we made a connection. It was really good.

We split into small groups to go to the soup kitchens usually, since they only had room for a few people. Because we felt like we were hopping around and wanted to have at least a little permanency, our groups went to the same one twice instead of switching. Mine was a soup kitchen called Walnut Hills. The ladies that worked there were so passionate. Actually... everyone we met who was doing this work was so passionate. It was really inspiring. At one soup kitchen, Our Daily Bread, I had a great time serving. I was "the dessert girl." Three people asked me if I was Irish. It was so funny.

There are so many little jokes and giggles and shenanigans that went on in our group when we were home, goofing around and being serious, really getting to know each other, but when we were volunteering, as Esther said, we all gave it our 110%. For me, this was such an experience because, while I do volunteer fairly frequently and am no stranger to it, I typically volunteer with a certain population - the developmentally disabled and/or children. This was almost... outside my comfort zone. I had never volunteered with homeless and poor people before. It gave me a new appreciation for what they have to go through, for the people who work to help them, and for what I do.

It was also what I thought of as my "vice-free week." No alcohol, no smoking (well, okay, I let Paulina bum me a cigarette yesterday, but that was the first one all week... before I was just smelling them), no cowboy, no internet, very little communication even via cell with my friends here and in California (though the animal handler was very cute, texting me every day, and sent me a picture of beer on St. Paddy's Day), and very little alone time. And you know, it wasn't that tough. Even the drinking wasn't that hard. 

I think I missed talking to the cowboy more than I missed my wine. He and I went from talking everyday to not talking for a whole week. I still haven't talked to him. He spent the week in Belize and I was in Ohio, so we were both effectively incommunicado. I would love to talk to him sometime after he gets back and gets his life back in order about what we did for the past week... but if we don't get around to it, I guess I will live. I don't know. He's an important friend of mine. I feel like we can both tell each other what we are thinking. I hope he had a good experience the way I did. Yeah, I missed him. I don't know that I missed anyone else. Maybe my roommate. But with all the eight other people and the work to keep me company, I didn't have much time to be lonely.

We got home last night at about 1:45 AM and I guess I am just trying to get my own life back on track. With people visiting, an exam tomorrow, and about 6 dollars to my name, it's a little overwhelming, but it will be fine. I am excited about the new friends I made, reunions, going back to class and work, trying to be thrifty, etc.

One sad piece of unrelated-to-Ohio news: I got an email while I was gone. A buddy at the camp I've been volunteering at for nearly 5 years passed away after losing his short fight with brain cancer. Mark was such a facet at Camp that I know it is going to be tough for everyone, especially my honourary big brother Adrian, who had him as a buddy and, I think, on his team when he was a leader. Mark always had a smile on his face and knew how to make other people smile, too. He was such a sweet, loving man, I couldn't help but cry a little bit last night and a little bit this morning, too, remembering him. 

You will always be missed at Camp, Mark. I love you.

hello nyc. i missed you just a little bit.

I am back from Ohio at 1:45 AM - long drive, but so much fun and pop music and screaming and silliness. Stories to come tomorrow. I'm tired.

Asshole Boyfriend is a better person than me because he volunteers in an oncology ward, and that's the way I like it.

fuck.

I don't have anything to say to anyone anymore. I really wish I was a more quiet person. All I want to do is close my mouth forever. 

I'm leaving for Ohio to do service work with homeless people on Sunday. I don't know if I will have anything to say before that. If no, I'll be back Sunday night.

silly woman.

We're having dinner after spring break. What ridiculous turns my life takes.

oh dear.

So what happened is this: Joe had some people over from his birthday. Sweet guys. All total nerds. One of them was one of their chemistry TAs. He was from Poland. Pretty cute, too. But okay, so Guy from Halloween, further now known as D2 (his name is Dan -- fuck) is there. And he introduces himself, so I'm thinking he doesn't remember Halloween... and I'm knowing that I only remember what I'm told. But after some time goes by, there is some definite tension at the party, and when everyone leaves, I end up in Dan's room. We're making out and stuff, which leads to me trying, unsuccessfully, for like an hour, to give him a handjob, which doesn't go very well, and some point around, yeah, an hour, I felt like a moron and just got up and walked out. We had talked about having a date post-spring break, so... maybe. Imagine we had a totally normal, dramafree evening. That would be pretty impressive for me and this kid. Worth a shot, right? He's nice, he finds me attractive, he lives in my building, he has a single. Shmeh. We'll see. He goes to FL today and I go to Ohio Sunday, so it's not like this is a right-now decision.

lesbian?

Several humans continue to reinforce this idea that I am perhaps a lesbian. The only thing confounding them is that I do not like girls. Not just sexually... first of all, I just don't see the appeal. I don't think the stuff that I have is attractive. Sometimes I am very surprised when others do. Also I just do not enjoy lady-personalities that much, unless they let me DOMINATE them. So I guess I don't enjoy their personalities, I just enjoy that they let me talk myself blue in the face.

Apparently, these people say, I just "look" like I could be a lesbian. A lesbian told me this today. I may be having an identity crisis. All this time I thought I looked like a chubby white girl.

no one should be allowed to talk to me. ever.

I am a cranky, crotchety old woman and I don't like anyone.

On the upside, I spent twelve dollars on cheese.

exhaustion.

Today I was practicing my sign language presentation that I had this afternoon, when Erica told me she thought she had some gas. She took some Gas-X and I kept practicing. Like thirty minutes later, she is moaning. Loudly. She starts screaming like a dying mountain lion. I'm freaking out. She continues screaming for another thirty or so minutes. I call an ambulance. We're both freaking out. Apparently the pain was so intense like she had never felt before.

These supercool paramedics come. They're like, "Guys it reeks of weed in here." And I'm like, "I have no idea why." And the dude, who later told us that he was roommates with Dennis Leary -- hah -- says, "Look, we don't care at all, but sometimes police follow us on our calls, so hide your stuff." And Fuld was like, "Oh, she did." And then this guy, the ACDE of our building, who at the beginning of the year I totally wanted to have sex with, no lie, shows up at our door, and is like, "What's going on?" And I'm talking to him, and the cool paramedic guy comes over and is like, "Who are you?" He takes him outside and (we learn later) tells the guy that he can tell he's high on something more than pot and to take my cell number and get the hell away from us. Such a BAMF!

So they take us to Bellevue in the ambulance and we're in the waiting room for like 2 hours. Then they take her back and I'm not allowed to go with her... and I sit in the waiting room for another 5 and a half hours.

I missed work, which my boss was very understanding of because she is a sweetheart, and sign language again because I took someone to the hospital again. I think my teacher thinks I am full of shit. Who has to take two different friends to the hospital in the course of ONE week?! 

I have two exams tomorrow. I'm exhausted. I have to try to study for a few hours.

And I'm worried about my Derek, who had a really really rough night. I want him to tell someone else about it instead of just me, who can't really do anything to help him the way he deserves.

ok go.

What a great concert. Given, last semester I went to concerts like every two weeks, and this was the first one of this semester... so I have been starved of live music. But fuck. Those boys put on a great show. They played "Do What You Want" -- one of my favourite of their songs, that I didn't necessarily expect to hear, and they didn't play "You're So Damn Hot," which I did expect to hear. I kind of like to be kept on my toes.

I think this song was one of the reasons I began dying my hair red. Even though there is no mention of hair, red or otherwise, in the song. I just wanted to be this girl.

So you were born in an electrical storm

Took a bite out the sun

Saw your future in a machine built for two

Now your rays make me kinda go crazy

Shock and awe and amaze me

Just a tickertape parade and me

But something was wrong

Until you tap danced on the air in the night

Screaming at the top of your lungs

You said, "Come on, come on

Do what you want

What could go wrong?"

this afternoon.

Something in my head stopped screaming (for once) and almost 3 hours flew by.

school stuff on a sunday.

I have so much shit that I have to do... I have a midterm for my treatment class on Tuesday, so I must stuff my brain full of details on behavioral therapy, CBT, psychopharmacology, SSRIs vs. TCAs vs. MAOIs, etc. Also I have to make up a sign language story to present for two minutes with the new vocab that I haven't really learned yet because I was in the hospital with Joe on the day that our class learned it. And there is a Pat C. Hoy writing assignment. I also am going to a concert tonight and work tomorrow. And coffee with Jake-who-likes-it-when-prettygirls-call-him-cowboy.

I saw an old friend last night whom I hadn't seen in like two years. We went for a few drinks at Park Bar, ran into this girl from my writing class of whom I am not the biggest fan, and Jake-the-blahblah's ex girlfriend, whom I had never met before, though apparently we both knew who the other was and felt it necessary to inform him of this chance encounter.

I am considering using Bridget Jones's Diary for my next writing class paper simply because I really really want to read it. And for me to write about anything, I will need to re-read each one... of five. I am considering the possible ramifications for using Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude and Bridget Jones's Diary in the same essay.

If anyone can do it successfully, oh little Castner, it is you.

sometimes i wish i was like mariella

I wish my Friday was a laid-back kind of day. I have both my jobs and there is quite a bit of rushing like insanity between them. Fuck the Brooklyn commute.

Jake, formerly the cowboy, and I are having coffee on Sunday, primarily to discuss that we are both assholes, I think. If you're reading this, I dropped the pseudonym (expletive expletive expletive). He thinks I am being cold towards him. I think, first of all, that I don't even know how to be cold, and also that typically I am a very affectionate friend and I didn't want him to mistake my platonic affection for continued I-want-to-fuck-you stuff that no longer exists. Anyway I am hoping that that will be a good conversation, since he and I talk like every day and so he is, kind of suddenly, a decently sized part of my social/school life that I would hate to lose due to misunderstanding. If he wasn't there, I would feel really alone in Pat C. Hoy's class. Pat C. Hoy is the teacher... he can't be my only friend in there, too.

Last night my friend Derek, whom I have known for 5 years or something insane like that, was home from school -- he lives on the Upper East Side -- and so we had a late dinner with delicious sangria at Curly's and then went to Urban Outfitters while Jake and I were text-message arguing and I cried while he was in the dressing room trying on overpriced hipster gear and then we came home and watched Saved! and had one drink each. He critically assessed my physical being and told me he thought I would "do better with women." Apparently I am not alone in thinking that I am extremely unattractive to men. Derek and Jake should meet. And then the two of them should meet awkward sign language guy and the animal handler. That would be interesting. I almost think that Derek and Jake would be very successful in convincing the other two that I am an unattractive, frigid cow, given as I have not slept with any of the four of them, much to the latter two's dismay.

Tonight my sign language class and I are going to get drunk at Blockheads and sign to each other and pretend to be deaf and I am pretty goddamned excited about it. I am coming straight from work so I am bringing a water bottle of the vino to work with me (relax... it is staying in my purse and only coming out for the hour long train ride from Brooklyn to midtown). And this is day 3 of no daytime drinking, going strong. I am reasserting my love of coffee until it gets dark.

Lately things have been going well. I kind of miss the simple days of elementary school when I never spoke to anyone except maybe my parents and the occasional teacher. Oh, and the librarian.

Listen to Kate Nash's song, "Mariella."

New favourite FML of all time:

Today, I dropped my keys. Not wanting to lean over and pick them up, I pointed at them and said, "Accio." Then I realized I had tried to use a Harry Potter spell in real life and in public. FML.

I wish I was that person.

thursday morning.

Thursday morning before writing class. Coffee instead of wine. Everything feels okay. After my panic attack, I decided to leave early and walk the 30 or so blocks to work blasting Ben Folds. Such a good idea. It was great. Very soothing. I only have time to do that some days, but hopefully I will take advantage of those when I do.

And yesterday evening, you know, it felt okay. Eddie and I went to the Peculiar Pub after our ASL class (around 6:30 PM, so a legal evening time), had a glass of wine each. Went to my Alternative Breaks meeting - finally it looks like we are really going to Ohio! And then I came home, starving, cooked myself real people food for dinner (chicken breasts and vegetables sauteed and seasoned because I am a fucking champ) and had another glass of wine and did some reading and talked to the cowboy.

Last night around ten I walked down to the Food Emporium in my pajamas. After obtaining my large tub of cookie dough, I then proceeded to skip all the way back, occasionally allowing a giggle to pass my lips. I love skipping in New York. You know you're making an ass out of yourself and you know everyone is looking but you just keep fucking going until you get back to your house.

Today is going to be a really long day (Thursdays always are) but it will be fine fine fine.

it's okay.

It's okay it's okay it's okay it's okay.

I am hanging in there. If I am a good little girl I will let myself have one -- just one -- glass of wine as I read Howards End for Pat C. Hoy tomorrow, and then I am not allowed to go to the liquor store again until after work on Thursday night.

It's going to be okay.

oh no.

My anxiety has been getting worse from being so busy and being worried all the time about not being good at my jobs because I should be good at them because I've been working with these populations for years and years and this is supposed to be my future career but I don't think I'm very competent and I wouldn't be hired at these jobs if these people who hired me knew what my home life was like and there is such a huge fucking disconnect I am supposed to be nice and patient and kind everywhere and I'm just not nice or kind or patient I am an asshole and I'm weird and I'm an alcoholic and I'm worried about class especially writing because everyone else is a very good writer and I am not and the cowboy is there and he knows I'm kind of a moron but today I decided I have to stop drinking before class and work. Only in the evenings and only a little bit and only after I have done every single thing that I need to do.

Which may mean that I never drink again because I am always so busy or tired.

I gave my mom the number on the hospital bill like weeks ago but she said it's the wrong one but I don't know where the bill is and I don't know what to do.

Yesterday I had to take my friend to the hospital because he was really sick and he is a transfer student and he doesn't really have anyone else. We were there for 5 hours and they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him and he was freaking out and eventually they just told him that if it got worse, he should come back, but if not, go home and rest.

Everything feels like it's stacking higherhigherhigher in my head and I am alone with a sleeping stoner girl who has to smoke weed to get herself to do just about anything and then doesn't end up doing it but takes a nap and I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink.

I feel like I am going to throw up.

thomas, you're a very naughty engine.

Instead of my hair, I changed my sheets, from cowboys to my tried-and-true starfish.

We have been drafting this paper for two weeks now, with the final due tomorrow morning. I think that I am done, but I can't tell anymore, since... again, we've been drafting forever. I'm nervous about it, no lie.

Cut to me running to Third North to print tonight at 3 am, travelmug of chardonnay in hand.

No worries... I have chocolate covered pretzels and wine for breakfast tomorrow before That Class. We will make it through awkwardland... if not with grace, at least with a buzz on.

In other news... Kate Nash getting married makes me so happy and hopeful. Look her up if never you have, listen to a few of her songs. I recommend "Foundations," "Mariella," "Birds," "We Get On," and "Merry Happy." Oh... and I like "Skeleton Song" and "Mouthwash." And "Pumpkin Soup." And "Shit Song" and "Dickhead" and "Caroline is a Victim." (I think I might have just named every song.) Her lyrics make her sound like almost as intense a trainwreck as me. And someone actually told me that I look a little bit like her one time, but with glasses, and that made me reallyreally happy. She is presh. I hope she has babies.

A man on the street for Children International said something to me that almost made me cry today. He pointed at me and yelled, "You! You love babies, don't you?! You want to have lots of babies! What's your name?" To which I blushed and mumbled the words "goddamnit."

you're a very silly human, darling.

So I had no idea that anyone read this... except for you, my dear asshole boyfriend, and Carolyn sometimes, and Lisa when she is bored. So to anyone tuning in to this crazed rambling webpage, hello! You must also be insane! Greetings!

The JCH was good -- It was the last day of the "semester," with the new one starting up in like two weeks. We had some of the kids in the pool, so I didn't have to make awkward flirtacious smalltalk with the 15 year old because he had pool duty and I did not. Thank goodness. I get very creeped out with him now. He is far too damned knowledgeable... says the girl who was writing her own romance novels (aka softcore written porn) at age 15. But I was a virgin and stayed that way for another 3 and a half years, so it doesn't count. Anyway. I got to talk to one of the older girls, who is, ta-dah, not in high school, but goes to Fordham, and is probably in my grade. One of the girls took a picture of me with a child and looked at the picture and said, "Damn you are so white in all of these." I said, "Well, given that I am the whitest girl in America..." And she said, "I think it must be your hair." And so then I basically came out as a shiksa to all of the Jews when I said, "Well, I am Irish, you know... kind of comes with the territory." I swear some of them do believe that I am Jewish and I feel really awkward when I can only speak English and can't read Hebrew letters... One time, I put together a whole carpet with Hebrew letters on it... UPSIDE DOWN. It's absurdity. My boss gave me a nice letter saying thanks for being a volunteer, have a movie theater gift card. It's nice. I think I'll be able to come back next fall and eventually use her as a reference, which is great.

The other girls moved in tonight... but they didn't start even trying to move in until like, 5 pm, which I find odd, because they can't go to bed until they get all the shit off their beds. It's a disaster area in my house. There is one of those really annoying grey carts they give you to move your shit in and out still in my living room. It forms a barricade with the couch and the table (and boxes) so I just crept around it, closed myself in with my wine, and made a little When Harry Met Sally clubhouse. If I allow myself to sit through the whole thing, I can say with 100% certainty that I will end up happy. This is why when I am watching while wallowing, I cut it off at Sally's sad horrible line "I can't do this anymore. I am not your consolation prize." Then I tend to go cry for about fifteen minutes. But tonight was a decent night, albeit a frighteningly embarrassing one -- what else is new? -- and so I got to finish and can now again attack my paper. 

Strangely that was a lot better than a night with the animal handler would have been... not that we don't have fun, because we do and it's nice, but it's very simple and not necessarily in a good way. I wouldn't consider even dating him, given that information, but for the fact that I heard someone say that the smart thing to do, in relationships, is to be with someone who likes you way more than you like him. Given that I am always then the stupid one in the relationship who really likes him a lot, while he has slightly more feelings for me than he does for, say, a piece of lint, I feel that this could be an interesting experiment. But it wouldn't be too annoying to date such a devoted man, given that he lives in New Jersey and it takes a long time to make the commute. So if I am going to dabble in dating someone I am not superattracted to, the animal handler is the way to go. Also, I miss people thinking I am smart. No one has any reason to, lately. I mean, let's be realistic: though I have a good heart, I'm neurotic, obsessive, ridiculous, and I seem to believe that wine is a breakfast food.

it's march.

Well, time fucking flies. I can't believe it's March. I am going to Ohio to work in homeless shelters in like, two weeks, apparently, and school will be out in like.... two months. Fuck.

Everything has been insane as usual. The cowboy informed me on Thursday that he cares about me as a friend and doesn't want to have sex with me because it would be just sex, with no love or anything. Bastard. I hate being cared about as a friend. He also likes to end our conversations by saying "take care of yourself." Try not to patronize me, sir, because I will really kick your ass. Anyway, I am over it legitimately by now (Sunday). Really. I am way too busy with other stuff to think about cowboys.

The mom I babysit for told me that she is pregnant! So in the fall when I come back I will get to still sit for Chris and help out with the new baby. I am so excited. I love babies. This mom also has the coolest tattoo ever - I want it. It is the multi-coloured puzzle piece that is basically the logo for anything related to autism. I really really like it.

Erica had friends stay over Friday. They were really funny boys. That was fun. That night my friend Jeff and I went to my other friend Jeff's birthday celebration at this gay bar downtown, Urge. That was... ridiculous. We didn't stay too long because my friend left without us seeing him so suddenly it was like, oh... okay... you're not here anymore... The go-go dancers were hilarious.

Erica had to move back into my (our) bedroom yesterday because we are getting new suitemates, Christea and Samantha. Today we are essentially waiting for them to move in... and have been for an hour. They can move in any time after 10 today. I hope that they come before I have to go volunteer in Brooklyn... especially because the animal handler is maybe coming over tonight (yeah, I know, I decided AGAIN that maybs I will give him a shot) because his birthday (the big 2-6) is on Tuesday. Anyway, I don't want to JUST meet them and then be like, oh this animal handler is coming over for a while... no big... I hope that they are not bitches.

It is 11 AM and I am considering a glass of wine. Embarrassing.

All of my friends seem to be really fucked up right now and I kind of worry on a reg basis about a lot of them. So that's a bummer. Apparently people worry about me on a reg basis, too, though, so whatever.

thursday afternoon.

A glass of chardonnay with salt and vinegar potato chips. I have to go to work in about 45 minutes, but it will take an hour to get there, so I'm not sweating it.

The test wasn't awesome. Some of the questions were worded... well, badly. This wounded me. Normally on psychology exams, I am having the time of my life (really). Picture a puppy, exuberantly bounding over a grassy knoll in like, a meadow. That's me in a good test. This test was like the opposite. It wasn't that it was unduly difficult or that I wasn't prepared. It was just the wording and it pissed me off.

For the first time in my writing class, though, being a psychology major instead of an English/Lit./art major paid off. A girl was trying to use psychological theory to talk about the violent youth in some country in South America that I can't recall... maybe Brazil. But it was pretty clear that she didn't really know the theory, and she didn't mention any of the psychological disorders that we associate with criminality, like oppositional defiant disorder, conduct disorder, and antisocial personality disorder. It felt nice to be able to point her in a direction that she could do some research in to fill out her essay... mostly because she thought what I was saying was interesting and not assholey, which again, was nice.

Blah blah blah work work work weekend officially starts Friday night when Christopher's mom gets home. I might be going to a surprise party at a bar in Brooklyn that my friend, who is turning 32, is throwing for himself. I need someone who is either 21 or has ID to go with me though because it's in a far-away area of the BK and I need to make sure that I get home okay. Blech I don't think the cowboy has ID. Bastard.

tuesday evening.

I am maybe one of the worst studiers for cognitive psychology there ever was. I woke up to find myself having fallen asleep on the book, my cheek in the crease, glasses flung haphazardly over the back of the couch, sprawled. Studying indeed. I am a joke.

On another note, I think sometimes we need to think about the simple things in life that make us feel very happy and maybe just ignore boys who make us feel confused... and sexually frustrated. Food, for instance. I am a primitive woman. I am going to make macaroni and cheese and mix in sauteed vegetables tonight, and I can't tell you how thrilled I am about it. It's going to be amazing and I am likely going to eat all of it in one (long) sitting.

tuesday morning.

Pre-class glass of wine at 8:30 in the morning. I don't care if it's ridiculous -- it goes nicely with malt balls and I didn't feel like coffee.

And I am a trainwreck.

And the cowboy is going to be there. Ack. Ack. Ack.

big red.

Oh, so red hair drives you crazy, Frank? Well FUCK YOU. 

You make me want to dye my hair brown. And kill you.

Because I would still fuck you at any given moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck is the matter with me?

Maybe my hair drives me fucking crazy, too, Frank, or maybe it's Cuban stoner assholes like you, who knows?

SO glad you live down the hall and think that my roommate is like so fucking cool. Goddamnit.

Chardonnay.

damnit.

Does it say all kinds of terrible things about me that it bothers me a little that Frank hooks my roommate up with weed and that he has made it very clear that even though he dated me, he prefers her as a person? I mean honestly I just don't need this brought home to me all the time. I am not a less fun person because I'm not a stoner.

And that I am pretty sure she, knowing I wouldn't like it, wouldn't have even said anything about it to me, having only found out because I came home early and found him in my house. 

I don't want him in my house unless I'm fucking him.

fuck.

I'm tired, boys. Here's the thing that you should know before you come anywhere near me. As soon as you kiss me for hours and then leave saying we should just be friends and you're a mess because of your serious relationship that ended a few months ago still... or whatever your reasons are... I am going to sob for probably fifteen minutes the way I do every fucking time. Because I feel it as strongly as the first time every fucking time and I don't know how to turn that off. 

I know how to get over it. I know how to drink my way out of a bottle. I know how to tell myself it wasn't me - it was you. And maybe it actually was in this case. I know how to say it was just kissing. Everyone does that with people they don't even like. I know how to say you weren't even interested, really. I can say, you just wanted to fuck him because he looks like he would have a huge dick and you've never had sex with a guy who didn't have a pretty small one. I can say, you don't like him you don't like him you don't like him until the cows have come home and put themselves to bed. But those are cognitions - everyone's brains create cognitions to help them with the emotions they can't stop making.

I am okay now. All I feel is tired and drymouthed and lonely. And he is lonely too, he said so, which sucks. He shouldn't be lonely; he should be here.

this always happens.

FUCK MY LIFE.

HE IS ON HIS WAY OVER TO WATCH CASABLANCA AND DRINK WINE WITH ME OH MY GOD AND I AM NOT EVEN WEARING ANYTHING CUTE!

eeek

I have been so busy lately, the idea of, on a Thursday night, coming home from work, getting all dolled up, and going out to some bar or club kind of repulses me. I'd rather come home, have a glass of wine, watch some tv, talk to my roommate, and go to bed. I am such a homebody it's ridiculous.

In other news... The mountain man, whom I now think is more a like a cowboy, so I call him hombre, and I have been talking a lot... this morning we talked about kissing. Apparently he used to date a girl for 14 months and hasn't kissed anyone but her for the past year and a half and really wants to kiss someone... hopefully me... and he said something about biting. And I was like, Yeah biting can be fun. And he said, You seem like a biter. 

Oh my god. This never happens to me. I think I maybe like him. Maybe. It's uncertain.

And yeah we have exchanged phone numbers, to perhaps hang out this weekend. EEEEEK!

let's call the whole thing off.

I am going without alcohol today (I think) for the first day in.... probs two weeks. Embarrassing. I really need to buckle down with my draft for my essay and get caught up on cognition and treatment stuff. Anyway. I'm just tired I think. Of a lot of things.

Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald are owning my soul. I could listen to this song forever.

huh.

I've been sad a lot this evening.

v day fo realz.

What actually ended up happening after my very nice and not too depressing day with myself is that Joe called me and wanted me to buy booze with him. Then he had an idea that we should go to this sushi place because they give you lots of free sake. I was like, okay. On the way there, I started not feeling very good, so I just ordered like a plain yellowtail roll. I only had a piece of it and two little sake cups but I knew I was gonna throw up. So I went and threw up pink in a public bathroom and then drank a pitcher of water.

Then Joe and I went to his sister's apartment because she had left food for him and he didn't want it to go bad or something. So we did that and then we went home. Apparently this guy Dan I had hooked up with on Halloween was going to maybs come over, but then he didn't. He was a nice guy, I think. Joe said he was bummed that I didn't remember him. Woops.

Then Joe and I just watched Friends and drank a beer and I fell asleep and I was talking to him while I was asleep essentially and he went and slept on my couch.

The other thing that happened yesterday was that the guy whose mom my mom met at the party added me on facebook. And he's fairly cute. I would do it. He's like kind of a hipster fuck in Greenpoint, but whatever.

Also I may or may not have been flirting with a guy in my writing class yesterday who is kind of a mountain man.

Today it's homework, volunteering in Brooklyn, and maybs the animal handler. Back to reality....ish.

v day.

So last year, Valentine's Day was literally the reason my ex and I broke up. We're still friends, but like, that was the worst break-up I ever had (on the 15th). 

Today I drank a pitcher of sangria and did not get dressed until just now. I was drinking at 9:30 am. My friends tell me this makes me a legitimate alcoholic. At least I do something well.

I am going (by myself) to this bar Pourhouse tonight. If you bring a picture of your ex, you get free beer. I'm bringing the picture of "I never liked you and only dated you to get laid" guy.

Although speaking of exes, I am SO GLAD that Frank keeps asking Erica to smoke with him. It's so awkward. Even she is like, "uhm.."

Anyway I'm pathetic. No big.

fuck my life.

Why does everyone tell me to calm down? Why can't I just do my little... not-calm thing in peace? And why can't someone think it's cute that I need to calm down?

Fuck my life I made Valentine's Day sangria and I am drinking it alone for breakfast tomorrow.

sad.

My friend Suzanne's dad passed away yesterday. He's been in the hospital for a while and she took the semester off to be with him, so I don't know if anyone, including/especially her, was surprised, but that sucks so hard. I feel pretty bad about it and don't know what to say. Bit and I are sending her flowers and we think that we will go visit her sometime. I would need Bit to go with me because I don't know if I'd be brave enough to visit the South without her.

Other than that... due to the outstanding challenge of a drinking competition between myself and Erica's cute friend whom I may or may not have a crush on, we are facebook shittalking right now. It would be adorable if we could then make out. Wishful thinking, probably.

Long day today. Thursdays are fucking intense! Saddle up, Castner.

the animal handler.

The animal handler might have grown on me. He did his regular every-few-days text to see "what's new in the land of Liz," and I found myself thinking, this is nice. A male gives a shit. I almost missed hanging out with him, drinking wine and beer and playing Uno and watching a movie.

TK's take: He has tamed you.

That's gross, Tim.

But yeah, maybe. We'll see.

I love buying beer. Hello Blue Moon. How are you tonight?

ridiculous.

I am a ridiculous little idiot who may or may not have blown it with Tumnus depending on how good a sense of humour he has (read: I got drunk. And tried to talk to him. On a weeknight.), so I am counteracting this by wearing my breasts to school today. Enjoy, all possible viewers. These are not committed to anyone!

pants.

A couple of things: my goal, in terms of career, for the past few years has been to be an occupational therapist specializing in children, meaning I would mostly work with children with disabilities, ranging from physical to developmental. Anyway... lately I have been considering being a child psychologist or psychiatrist instead. I have time and I am taking all the right classes for both anyway, so I don't have to decide or anything.

But... okay so I have essentially diagnosed myself with depression, social anxiety, and a specific phobia (of jeans). I am attempting to tackle the latter two with a treatment plan I have laid out. Basically... I am going to make myself wear the two pairs of jeans that don't thrust me into a (major) panic attack at least 3 times a week. Also, Erica and I are going to go shopping for high-waisted jeans (I have very big, child-bearing hips. They are bigger than the rest of my already overly large body.) so that I don't freak out about love handles or muffin tops or anything else unsightly. Or at least so that I don't freak out about them for a good reason.

So basically I am pretending to be a clinician with myself. And I am wearing black jeans. Erica says they are slimming and I look good. I don't believe her. That's okay. Baby steps.

not in narnia.

Is he going to call me or what?

my version of a critique.

I am not a movie critic. I don't even think that I am. These are two very different things. However, it does not take very much to get me to like a movie.

But... He's Just Not That Into You, while starting at passable, about halfway through became... well, abysmal, which, given its cast, is pretty depressing. The dialogue made me so sad. Just... simply the writing, not even the way the characters ended up. But the literal writing. I would have done a better job.  Or, as my roommate said, her sister (a high school senior) would have done a better job. Also, none of the women had any personalities at all. The only differences one could really pick up on between any women in the cast were their (slightly) levels of desperation... which was directly tied to their place in the plot. It is ironic that while one would have to be a woman to really enjoy this movie, one would also have to not give a fuck about any of the women in it enough to realize that every character is the same person at a different romantic stage in her life.

Justin Long is hot, though. I mean, really. His voice. Ohhh I swooned. Why on earth did you break up with him, Drew? I never would have. Jesus.

anonymity.

Today's my mom's birthday. Peggy is 47. I called her up this morning to say "happy birthday," which I think she appreciated. I think she is kind of bummed out, though, and who can blame her? Her husband turns 50 this year, her eldest daughter (me) turns 20. Her youngest child is in high school. Shit, I'm weirded out about being 20. I don't know if I really planned to be this age when I was younger. College was kind of an ageless time in my mind, and after college it was getting married, having a boring job, and birthing children. Literally. Even though I have become one of those girls that coos at babies on the street, I don't know if I will ever have one. Or if I will be married and have one. Let's be realistic, I am totally the kind of person to adopt a child at age 35 if I have the means and am still single. 

My mom was telling me about the 50th birthday party she and my father went to last night. She met this woman there, who asked her where her oldest (me) was. My mom said, Oh she goes to school in New York. Apparently this woman became very excited at this information and said, My son just moved to Brooklyn! The woman asked my mom how old I was. My mother told her I would be 20 in August. The woman apparently said, What day? My mother, thinking this odd, said, the 18th. (By the way, this is my birthday. August 18th. Put it in your crackberries.) The son's birthday is of course on the same day as mine. He is 22 (currently) and thinking he is going to go to med school. He is also tall and, like myself, enjoys sushi. His mother then proceeded to text him with my phone number. My mother loved his response, which apparently was a rambling text message paragraph about how there was no way he was going to call some random girl, essentially just because she had a nice mother, was from Orange County, and had the same birthday as he did. I thought this was pretty funny. My mother apparently has his phone number, if I'm interested. I'm gonna pass, obviously. 

There is a huge part of me that is kind of sad that I am apparently old enough to be set up for dates now. I'll get over it.

I revel in the anonymity of Manhattan on a Saturday afternoon. Though NYU is such a big school, it usually feels kind of tiny, mostly because on a weekday during the day or a weekend during the evening, I always always always run into someone on the street. At least one person, typically more. Today after our Valentine's Day party, my best buddy Gilda and I went for a walk, ostensibly in search of cheap jewellry, though I knew that since she had no idea where the intended store was and that it probably no longer existed, we would just walk. And we walked all over school neighborhoods.

In my mind, I pictured running into one of my friends or acquaintances, any of them, and how that would go. They would stop, say hi. I would say, So-and-so, this is my friend Gilda. Gilda, this is So-and-so. They would be polite and I would say, Oh, see you in class, or just plain See ya. I don't know why I had to plan out this interaction. Maybe because they've never seen me walking very slowly with a 70 year old woman with MR and a walker... and the only people who have seen me do that are people who also do that.

But we walked around for an hour and it didn't happen even once. I didn't see anyone I had ever seen before in my entire life... and I am pretty good at faces. It was interesting. It was cool.

Tony and I are kind of in a fight. He's the kind of person who can't admit to being an asshole without being called out on it. And if you call him out on it, you're an even bigger asshole. So I didn't call him out on it and simply owned up to my portion of assholeyness. I'm so over it. In my opinion, if a girl says to you, Sorry I did that - I was drunk, that is your cue to say, Oh okay no big deal. Even if you don't really believe her and just think that's a silly excuse to get out of awkwardness, EMBRACE IT. You don't need to call her out, ask her how much she had to drink and how it was possible that she was drunk when you were totally sober and how much it usually takes to get her drunk. On this point, he and I diverge. Obviously.

So here I am listening to "Annie Waits" by Ben Folds, embracing my alcoholism and thinking I am probably going to drink one-glass-too-many and go see He's Just Not That Into You by myself because my friend Derek is sick and we had had plans. I think I am going to keep up my no-men, alone theme. The only people today who could corroborate that I am alive are my roommate and the people at the Best Buddies party... let's keep it that way. I'm having an anonymous Saturday. 

I bought a different kind of wine today - not Woodbridge. It was a dollar cheaper. It is called Walnut Crest. I kind of like it. A lot. I wonder if I am switching from Woodbridge. This would be a life-changing decision for me.