live through this, and you won't look back

I have an essay test Monday, work all day Tuesday with an emotionally disturbed woman who is going to flip a shit, and then a multiple choice test AND an essay test Wednesday. I hate midterms.

I REALLY hate how fat I feel.

Oh well. Everything will get better. I promise.

My mom is turning my room into an office. I guess that means I'm a grown-up. The family is going on a ski trip without me this week. And my dog died. And my youngest sister is apparently old enough to have friends hang themselves. All in the last week. I feel very disconnected from the homestead indeed.

Good things:

I love my boyfriend. He loves me, even though I'm insane. Maybe even because of it.

Spring is coming to New York City, slowly but surely.

I am probably intelligent enough to get into grad school SOMEWHERE.

I have the apartment to myself this weekend, so I can practice living alone - aka bumming it on the couch studying/watching TV alone.

I may buy bread and cheese this afternoon.

homestead

This whole diet thing would not be as hard if I didn't get so damn hungry! And if my mom didn't ask me to make cookies every few days... Oh well. I developed a major sweet tooth this semester due to stress and definitely put on a few pounds. I think I've taken them right back off by now, but I'm hoping to maybe lose a few more. I have that tummy pooch thing that ladies get, and I hate it! Also my upper arms/thighs are intensely fat...

The nice thing about the diet is that I feel less fat already and I eat more fruit/veggies. And I have a boyfriend who loves me already, so it's really more for me than him.

My driving test is Wednesday. I'm kind of nervous. What sucks most is that I hate driving. Practicing is torture, pure and simple. But I am not having an anxiety attack every time I get in the car anymore, so we've made some progress on that.

Hope y'all are having a nice New Year. For me, I am just waiting for camp to get here, and once that's done, I'm outtttttta here. Back to New York, and then, a few days later, back to my man!

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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!

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.

full of bran and feeling grand

I don't know about uppers, but Slumdog Millionaire was a great movie. I loved it. My mom, not as emphatically, but no one ever said Peggy and I were the same person. The little kids at the start of the movie were so cute I died inside. Abeer and Ankit must have been precious as babies.

Pretty much spent the rest of the day being woozy and out-of-it, per Eliza hangover, and talking to Fred. I kind of think that that's going to happen... especially since Tony calls me "bud." I don't think that boys desire to have sex with their "bud," no matter what When Harry Met Sally would have me believe. Better to see where things go with the animal handler than to ruin a perfectly good "bud"ship because I happen to be madly in love with him.

I orgasmed orally over the homemade butternut squash soup my dad made me...yum... watched Weeds and the Golden Globes until I was way too tired and went to bed at like 10. How gorgeous did Mary- Louise Parker look? Even though I'm SURE she didn't even expect to win against Tina Fey. It was Tina Fey's YEAR. 2008 belonged to Tina Fey. I'm fine with that - she is a goddess. She can do no wrong. But Mary-Louise... oh my god... I am going to see her in Hedda Gabler. I have decided. I am going.

Best thing about my life right now: I will be back in New York tomorrow night. I am so excited.

I did make another very important, life-changing decision yesterday and it was this: "Fuck low carb." I had Total for breakfast today and it was so grand. I think I am basically just going to do WeightWatchers and work out and we'll just see if I slim down a little bit. I am a very chunky girl, I understand, and I also understand that I'm kind of built to be this way. I have very broad structure, bone wise. Whatever. I could lose 20 pounds. It's all about portions, my friend. All about portions. I'm going to turn this into a food journal, too, to keep myself accountable, since I am the only one who reads this anyway, so I guess here goes. I don't know how much I weigh - I'll check when I get back to New York on Erica's scale, since that's the one I'll be using for 4 months, but I am eating for as if I am less than 150, since I want to be less than 150, which means I get to eat 18-23 points a day. Today for exercise I am going to powerwalk on the treadmill (I hate to run) for 4 miles, which, at the pace I go, turns out to be just shy of 54 minutes.

1/12/08

Breakfast Points

1 cup Total Raisin Bran 2

1/2 cup light soy milk 1

1 cup or so pineapple 1

Mid-day Food

Apple 1

1 tiny peanut cutter cup 2

Basically half a package of spinach 0

Tofu 2

Dinner

Large chicken breast 4

Balsamic marinade probably 2

Vegetables of some kind  0

Salad dressing 1

Apple  1

Cool. Looking at coming in at 17 at 9 pm. And I am STARVING. Oh well.

Today I went and visited my high school. It was kind of nice. All the teachers I visited had really nice things to say to me and were excited to see me. Kind of like a tiny self-esteem boost. First I went to see the Campus Ministry people, who love me because I'm a cool kid I guess, even though Jesus and I aren't supertight. I saw all of my old English teachers, even Sister Marie. I love that tiny Irish nun. Queen Rids was pretty cool, too. Stopped by Mulholland's room... that man is glorious. Obviously Celestino was the highlight of the visit. He's such a cool guy. Best teacher I've ever had, in a Dead Poets Society kind of way, not in an actually academic way. I also hung out with Spellmire for like half an hour, which was hilarious.

I think it takes graduating from high school to realize that your teachers are real people. Maybe it's because I taught kindergarteners after school last year and worked with actual teachers. Or maybe it's the leaving high school and going to college, where the teachers talk to you differently. I'm not sure. Spelldaddy and I could sit down and talk about some crazy fucking exploits for a while, though.

Ms. George and I are friends on fbook now and I think Mulholland and I will be shortly - insane! Anna-Lisa admitted to creeping on the comments I left on other peoples pages - scaryyyyy - so I added her so that she doesn't have to creep anymore, and then I saw that Mulholland, love of my life senior year of high school, has a facebook, so oh my god we are going to be fbook friends yayyyyy.

I feel like I'm getting old. I know I felt this way two years ago, but now I feel it for different reasons, I guess. I think I am going to cut back on the alcohol. Not quit drinking, obviously, but save it for occasions, unless it is a single glass of wine. One glass of wine after a long day at class/work won't hurt. When it's not a single glass of wine, definitely cut wayyyy back. A glass of wine is 2 WW points. And while I am only semi-doing WW and mostly am just editing my diet and making time to exercise, you know, it's like 114 calories a glass.

I am worried Cognition and Pat C. Hoy II, god among men, 's class will kick my ass. Also ASL 4 is going to be tough. Treatment of Childhood Mental Illness might be my easiest class. WEIRD.

We will make it, though.

New York, here I come!

I need direction to perfection

How does everything change in like... 30 seconds? I get to the party and I feel great. I drink my weight in beer, feeling only vaguely buzzed, get a ride home with Alex, life is good, life is good, life is good, happy 25th Scotty. Then I go home and go to the bathroom and when I come out of the bathroom my mom is standing right outside the door and scares the SHIT out of me. Cut to me waking up the next morning wearing a sweatshirt and underwear.

I guess I blacked out and threw up. How does that even happen AFTER someone leaves the party? What the fuck.

My mom... vaguely annoyed. Apparently I'm her stupid child. I prefer scrappy. I prefer to be her SCRAPPY child. Oh well.

I had tea with an old friend this morning, made me feel old too. She's 26 years old, a yoga instructor and a special ed aide. She doesn't really drink anymore and is going back to school to do alternative medicine. She's kind of new age now. I don't know. It's like that line in my favourite Killers song, "All These Things That I've Done." I fucking love that song. I'm so much older than I can take. I know I'm only 19, no big deal, but I don't know if I ever expected to be this old. I think I thought I was gonna be a kid forever. Looking at my friends I realize that most people act the same way in their late 20s as they did when they were 19, but they're old, too. Not old-old, like elderly, but old like a fully-grown person with jobs and life and problems and probably depression and shit like that. We're all fucking depressed. But everyone has always been like this, they just didn't have a name for it before we standardized psychology.

I told my mom I am going to kill myself when I start to feel frail. I want to help people for a living, but I never want to need help myself. Maybe it's a weakness of mine, but either way, I am like a quarter or so through with my life and I am not sure what I have to show for it. Where did middle school go? Where did high school go? Where did my fucking first year of college go? I feel like I'm losing track of things. Remembering years does not take years. I feel like memories can never represent what things actually were - in that case, why bother trying to remember? I don't know. What happens to your life if you're too busy trying to remember your life? I guess you stop having one.

My mom and I are going to see Slumdog Millionaire. I think that should be fun. Supposedly it's like taking a handful of uppers.