Jon and I had a great, lovely, fun weekend of cheesecake and pajamas and sex and cuddling and an excursion to a wonderful Indian restaurant, but this week it's just like... it takes me HOURS to fall asleep. My brain just won't turn off, which is really frustrating. Bitch needs sleep!

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.

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."

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.