Audrizzle

Wow, I just found out Maggie Gyllenhaal lives in Park Slope!

...We ran into Maggie Gyllenhaal, who recently moved to Park Slope, where she has clearly contracted a full-blown case of Brooklynitis. "I like it a lot," she rhapsodized about her new neighborhood. "It really does feel like a different place, like a different city." Yeah, yeah, yeah. The air is cleaner, the sun brighter, the birds chirpier, we know.

Thank you new york magazine!

Oh, wait a second... What's that? Oh, oh, Maggie Gyllenhaal is married to ... PETER SARSGAARD?!?!?
Awesome. I am going to do that thing that I used to do in 5th grade and ********* --removed in fear of possible future lawsuit.--

Ha ha ha ha ha...

Today was an OK day.
I'm just going to make an awesome blog post about my day, you should be super excited about it!
Well, I woke up at like 4:30 and I couldn't sleep. I went into the kitchen for some reason, but I don't remember why, all I remember is that I looked at the clock and it said 4:34. It was still dark outside and I figured I'd be back asleep before it was light again.

WRONG! I think what happened was around 4:50 I decided "Okay, I'll go to bed now. To aid in my falling asleep I will listen to some crummy new-age audiobook that will bore me lifeless. Hmm, how about this one? 'The Head Trip: Adventures on the Wheel of Consciousness' ... Sounds way lame! It will bore me right to sleep!'

That was NOT the case. Man, what a freaking great book. Like, i already ordered it on amazon (true, haven't completed checkout, but that is only because i don't feel like getting up to go find my credit card).

I don't know how to explain it. But you think of new-age as a bunch of assumption and pseudo-science, done by pretentious holier-than-thou types who would never come close to having a sense of humor, and this book is just the opposite. There is a LOT of science in it, which is great, because as much as I love new-age crap, I LOVE science. Science is the freaking bomb. Anyway. The book is by Jeff Warner, and it's freaking great. There isn't much else to say.

One part (ok, there is something else to say) of it that I think is pretty interesting. Apparently there is a lot of evidence to point to the fact that historically, humans were usually more likely to go to sleep for a few hours, wake up for a couple hours in the middle of the night, then fall back to sleep for a few more hours in the early morning--all this rather than sleep the night straight through.

This is definitely something that I have done for a long time. I mean, anyone who knows me knows I have a very... not irregular, but ... uncommon? sleep schedule. I totally can remember in 4th grade going to bed at 8 pm, waking up at 3 am, doing my homework, going back to bed at 4...

I specifically remember this because for some reason I always chose to go to bed in the middle of the hallway.

AHHH!
I totally decided to post about today earlier when I was walking back from the train and i was thinking "You know what? I'm really happy, I'm feeling really good today, I'm going to write about it!"
And then the same thing later on after leaving the Falafel restaurant, I was thinking "Yeah, maybe things weren't perfect or like I expected them to be, but I'm feeling really great. I'm totally writing about this!"
Then something else happened that made me feel the same way.

So I'll get into it a little bit.
At work there's this guy who always says "Hello Amanda, how are you doing?" and I felt terrible because I didn't know who he was, and I asked someone and they said "Oh, that's E." and I remembered that I DID know who he was, and I just felt good that someone I met remembered me and was willing to be pleasant with me.

There are a couple of things I felt bad about at work, but I won't write about them.
Oh boy, and another "Summer of Bad Luck" thing (well, 2...) ... but I'm not going to write about them!

Anyway. I stayed at work until 6 and I didn't mind at all. People asked me to take care of things and I did it in a timely manner and I didn't feel like a codependent, I just felt like a person who could help people out, and would, because I'm nice.

So, after I left work I walked south on McDonald Ave. and right as I was climbing up the stairs to the platform of the F-Train, I smelled the air and it was like charcoal and cologne... and I can't even imagine what that smells like now, but at the time it was just the most incredible thing, the best thing ever. They say olfactory memories are the strongest. I don't remember the way I sensed it, but I remember the way that the scent just overcame me and made me want to write poetry. But I don't write poetry.
I did start writing a haiku, though.
Here is what I have.

Line 1: Charcoal and cologne.
Line 2:
Line 3:

That is why I don't write poetry.

Oy vey! Anyway... I'm going to indulge myself, I'm going to say "anyway" as many times as I want to. And right now I'm reading "Slaughterhouse Five" and so maybe I'll say "So it goes." all the time as well. Hah!

Anyway. Took the train, and I just felt pleasant. I could feel the heat outside, but I still felt just... pleasant, and calm.

The first part of the day that I felt inspired to write!
As I was getting off the G train at the Bedford-Nostrand stop, I noticed a gentleman about my age, maybe a couple years older, stocky, long brown hair, glasses, just my type, right? Anyway, we kind of walked at the same speed all through the train station, and I thought "Wow, this is weird, we're walking right next to eachother like we're friends." Even when we got to the stairs, I was right behind him, and I felt like I wanted to go faster (for some reason I prefer to run when it comes to travelling up stairs) but at the same time I felt like he was my friend, I couldn't "lose" him. So i kept going behind him.

I counted the steps, and there were 37. I'm pretty sure when I went up the other side last week there were 38. Even though there should be the same amount. Hm.

Anyway, when we reached the surface, the early evening sun thrust itself upon us separately, and we both lost any objective we may have had to stay close. He stood on the corner apparently trying to get his bearings, and I headed north on Bedford, on the way home as usual.

However, half a block later, I realized he was next to me again! At this point I had taken off my headphones. I thought about saying hello to him, I thought "How could I start a conversation?" then "Do I even need a way to start a conversation? This guy has been walking next to me like we are very close for the past 10 minutes, and NO one in this city does that, it's just that he's also scared to say hello." And I truly was scared to say hello.

But I realized, it wasn't fear. Fear is unpleasant. It was anticipation, excitement, wonder, mystery.

What COULD happen? What is he like? Does he like me?

In the speculation, I can be perfect. I can be witty, intelligent, funny, anything I want to be. As long as it is a fantasy, it can be whatever I want it to be. It can be great.

So even though I realize I do possess the courage, I decide not to say hello. I decide to keep walking and just indulge in the beauty of this: two people who clearly like eachother (as much as two strangers can) - and to like someone takes emotion in and of itself - and who also have a surge of emotion strong enough to keep them from talking to eachother. Maybe it means each of them is too wrapped up in his or her own mind to think about inviting someone else into his/her world, but you know what? It's better to be wrapped up in your own mind than in nothing at all, I think.

I think the beauty that struck me of what happened with this gentleman (who walked next to me another 2 blocks, then headed into a brick house) was that no one behaves like this anymore. Everyone knows what they want, and they know how to get it. Everyone is just so certain of themselves, so secure and self-assured. So to see two people who are just overcome by emotion is, in a way, to glance upon a rare innocence. I remember moments like this when I was a teenager, where things stayed this way... no one said anything, and the possibilities rested in the realm of what could-have-been. Or, worse, the times when we DID act, we did grow close, and things were either great or disappointing... but since I have to consciously think to recall them, they clearly weren't as perfect as I imagined they would be.

The events that fall into the latter category are the events that cause us to lose our innocence, our faith. And this innocence is overcome by nothing other than pride, selfishness, greed.

So witnessing -and taking part in!- an 'event' like today's was really a marvelous treat for me. So maybe I went home unsatisfied, unknowing... Life isn't all about knowing, about getting to the ending, about finding the answer. I think i have been spending too much time trying to find "the answer" and not enough time noticing what's been going on around me. So, if I ever DO find "the answer," I won't know what to do.

Anyway.

After walking home, I decided to do my laundry (and now I cringe because I remember that though it is folded, it is still in my laundry basket because I was too lazy to put it away earlier). I went to the laundromat across the street, started my clothes in the wash, came back, watched tv, started my clothes in the dryer, came back, watched tv, then went and unloaded my clothes and folded them all. While I was doing this, i noticed a young gentleman near me with a small paperback book with a white cover, though he was not reading. He was staring into the distance, into the dryer, watching the endless repetition of clothes falling over eachother, which can be quite hypnotic. However, the cynic that I am, I figured he was just trying to look deep and intense, while at the same time being fully conscious of himself, and very focused on appearing the way he wanted to.

At this point I came to the realization that I have never seen so many people read Salinger in public than I have in New York City. I was thinking, it would be funny to be a writer and have a book called, like "That really rare JD Salinger book that only the hippest kids have." or something. I don't know. Put a fake book cover on your regular reading to appear to be reading Salinger. Or, put a fake book cover on your salinger to appear to be reading something "regular" ... but no one would ever know, because no one would ever point out "Hey, you're reading Something Regular," at which point you would pull off the fake book cover and show them that no, you are no ordinary reader, you are a New Yorker, you read Salinger.

I'm going to have to finish writing this later. I just hope that I'm in a mood just as eloquent when I continue. I feel that the writing I have done tonight is good. "No one's gonna read it so I'm sure it doesn't matter." And I don't care if no one does, because in 20 years I'll look back and be glad that I was doing something.

But yeah, Amanda, remember to write about the Falafel man and your balcony neighbors.

Peace!
(and I don't mean that as in, what peace actually means, I mean it in the annoying way, where I say it like "PeeEEEYCE" and make the peace sign on my right hand and kiss it, palm towards my face, then turn my palm outward to show the peace sign and bam, that's the end. It's very practical and certainly a part of modern vernacular.

I am so tired I can't keep my eyes open. Which means that if I were to keep writing things would start to get very interesting quite soon.
But they aren't.
:)

Goodnight.

More, YAY!
1) I fell down some stairs and banged up my left knee really badly. This one was partially my fault, though. I'm not going to get into details.
2) I lost my cell phone!
3) I ordered an iPhone and my debit card shut itself off.
4) My license got suspended in Connecticut (this one is completely my fault).
5) I got realllly sick.
6) The hot water in the apartment stopped working.
7) Still no luck on the future residence search. And doubtful that there will be any until I have a phone.

But anyway...
I was thinking, what could God possibly be punishing me for?
Then I thought about how it's interesting that God is the one who punishes and the devil gives people what they want.
I mean come on, do I really NEED my soul?

God, this has been like the Summer of Bad Luck. Since my last update I have had trouble with one of the few friends I have here (not going to go into details)... I have also felt sick and wasted time, but that is nothing new for me. Last night I found out:

Contrary to what she told me when I moved in, my roommate is NOT going to renew the lease next month, she is going to move out. So, this would leave me in a 3 bedroom apartment that is WAY overpriced for its size and location, and no roommates. It would probably be around $2200 a month. Honestly, I can't believe someone finagled her into paying that much to begin with, but I guess it wasn't her paying... But that's my personal BS, I'll leave that out of this.

When I got home last night and my roommate told me this, I was kind of drunk and I think I gave off the impression that I was going to look hard for new roommates, not that I was going to move out. Upon thinking about it, I realized that I do NOT want to take this on by myself, and really, it isn't worth it to. The only really great thing about this apartment is the deck (which is at least twice the size of my room), and I don't really use it that much, so I'm not going to fight for it.


feeling blue...

So, it looks like I have to get my rear in gear and find a different apartment by August 15th. She let me know exactly 1 month in advance. We pay our rent on the 15th. Today I got home and found a note with an envelope - Amanda - Take the rent check next door to number 18. No "please"? I texted her today saying "I think I am going to move out, too, actually. I need my security deposit back."

No response, 5 hours later.
Speaking of no response! I was renting a room at a house in Connecticut in and I moved out in June. I originally thought my landlady was going to use my security deposit as my last month's rent, but she informed me that no, she would mail me a check after I left. Well, I left June 18th and still nothing. A week later I emailed. Then I emailed again. Then I called. I called every couple days, then I started calling every day, then twice a day, because I knew she was ignoring my calls. Today I even called from the 718 area code using my phone at work, but she still didn't answer. I left messages, asking her to email, call, anything, but nothing.

Then today I got an email from her: "Filing for Bankruptcy. My attorney will be in touch. He asked me to tell you to cease your phone calling."

That really makes me angry. If you're going bankrupt, why are you paying a lawyer to listen to you whine about getting phone calls from someone you owe money to? And she MUST have known on May 18th that she wasn't going to be able to pay me back my security deposit on June 18th, so why did she still insist on collecting rent? How terrible. I feel bad for the current roommates!

Anyway, I was really worried because I never had a contract or anything written with her, but I found this in an email... "Also, I did expect to get a check for your living expenses here on May 18th. Traditionally, when you leave ... you leave me a forwarding address and I would send your security less any damages (which I do not expect, of course - you have been great). I have always returned security deposits, but it does insure that the place is left in a nice condition." So that's kind of like... evidence in my favor.

What I hate the most is that I really liked Robin, she was really nice (except for not fixing the sinks, the bathtub, or the dishwasher and getting rid of the cable to cut costs but not cutting our rent at all and not letting anyone use her washer/dryer or her beloved couch...), a genuinely nice (albeit cheap) person. Not cheap enough, I guess. I don't know. I'm not going to go into details, but a) I'm not surprised and b) she should have seen it coming.



So. That brings me to where I am now. Finding out that all of the sudden I have to move and go somewhere and pay ANOTHER security deposit and god knows what other fees, and I am $1200 behind where I should be. I guess it's good though, because it's money that people owe me, and not like, money I'm in debt. Good god, that's a whole different story.

Anyway. So I decided to buy an iPhone! Unfortunately, Apple had other plans. No, I'm not willing to pay $50 to order one, or to get up at 4 and miss work to hang out there all day in hopes of getting one.

I guess that kind of makes me feel better about myself, the fact that I wouldn't "camp out" for something like that. No, I've done my fair share (more than my fair share) of nerdy stuff (Walgreens for New Years Eve? The Apple Store "holiday event"?) and I'm proud of it.

WHOA I've got 2 new emails!
One was from a guy who has a place in Queens that has a room, but it is in Queens, which is pretty much an hour commute each way to and from work.
The second is from half of a couple who might be getting an apartment in Brooklyn soon, which would be good, except I don't know how long of a process it is to get an apartment.
OK, weird. I've heard this song before but I didn't know the line, and I'm listening to it, and right as I'm transcribing my residential woes this lyric pops up: "New York's the greatest if you get someone to pay the rent."
It's still the greatest :)

Also, my roommate just came home and thanked me for paying the rent, and I asked her about the deposit and she said she'll be able to give it to me as soon as she gets paid, which is Thursday. Somehow I find this unlikely, as she claims to only work 2 days a week. She'd have to be making mad dough to earn a enough to cover my security deposit in 4 days of work. And the retail pet supply industry isn't known for paying particularly well, if I recall correctly.



But whatever. Still, overall, I have to say I consider myself very lucky. I mean, imagine trying to find a roommate if you had no personality or no job! I used to think about getting on disability (and if I got a good lawyer I probably could), but I don't think I could give up my pride. And god, imagine trying to explain that to someone "interviewing" you for the roommate position.

This is funny. Today I was scrolling through names of customers in the Overland Park, Kansas zip code looking for someone and i saw the name "Donald Trumpy." I kid you not. Incredible right? Can you picture someone introducing themselves as Donald Trumpy? Hah! So funny! I picture someone being all serious at first then getting a high lispy voice for the "-umpy!" part. Hah!

Man, I've got these weird bumps on my tongue. And I chewed gum all day yesterday and today I could barely open my jaw. And my gums pretty much bleed every time I brush them (not because I don't brush often enough, I just feel like you have to do it hard for it to work right)... Not to mention my wisdom teeth are there to remind me how much I miss Dr. Jim.

Dr. Jim was my mother's first husband, who also happened to be our family's dentist. Oddly enough, my Dad is the only one who still sees him. God, whenever I think of my family and St. Louis and especially my Dad, I get really depressed.



Speaking of really depressed, yesterday would have been Adam's 28th birthday. It's so weird that he would be 18 and I knew him when he was 26. I went to a bar last night and ended up playing chess with a gentleman... I always used to play chess with Adam, he played with everyone, and he always won. He always won. We must have played 200 times before I beat him. And I did. And he was under a lot of emotional stress that night, and the next day was the last time I ever saw him. Funny to think that if he had lived I'd care less about him now.

I probably wouldn't care about him at all. I'd probably ignore his calls, if he ever called, but he wouldn't, because he hates himself. Hated. Past tense.

It's hard to talk about anything with levity after Adam is a subject. There really isn't anything I can follow it with.

3/3/08
on the way back up this morning, at 6 before anyone was awake, i accidentally stepped on the creaky stair that i always had to avoid when i was sneaking to Adam's room at night. and that set me off, i just broke down.


"Dreams" by Jacob Lawrence.

two days ago i was up really late and i was like "fuck it if i go to sleep now i won't be able to get up for work"
so i just stayed up all night
now it's like, i want to stay up so i can do more.
and i just CANNOT STOP MYSELF
it's fucking PATHETIC.

It's kind of cool, though. I have been reading this book that Dan lent me which is freaking great. At first it was like "ok, reading someone's memoirs, okay..." and i felt like it wasn't that great because there wasn't change or overcoming hardships... i mean the guy talks briefly about the parents dying but then will spend a page on the art he and his brother have transformed frisbee into.

But reading it more I bent the corners of a couple pages, so i'm going to type up here some funny stuff.
(Speaking of typing... that's one way i know i'm manic is that I type really fucking fast.)

So here is a scene where the protagonist and his younger brother(Toph) are getting out of the car to go to the park.

We park and leave our shoes in the car, get the stuff out, Toph with his--
"Hey, you can't wear that hat."
"What do you mean?" he says."
"We're wearing the same hat. You have to take yours off."
"No, you."
"No, you. My hair will look weirder."
"No it won't."
"Yes it will. Your hair's still straight. You know what I look like with hat-head."

At about this point I realized that the conversation was taking place between the two brothers. At first I thought "Huh, some stranger is telling this kid that he can't wear his hat because they have the same hat? That's so funny!"
And really, it is fucking hilarious. I want to do that.
Then i was thinking it would be really funny to go some place with somebody in matching clothes, you know, like how moms dress up twins... and it would be ESPECIALLY funny if it was a whole BUNCH of people... other people on the street would think we were in a cult.
Then i got to thinking... Which is weirder, pretending to be in a cult or ACTUALLY being in a cult?

Notice the pink crew?

Anyway. I like to imagine that conversation happened with a stranger.
On a side note, I've noticed sometimes in this book the quotes go back and forth without stating who is saying what, and it can go on for pages and I get really confused.
Next section.
During his friend John's half-assed overdose, the protagonist calls the police. They show up.

John reaches for the wine bottle, like he's going to pour another glass, right here and now, have another nice glass of wine. One of the cops stops to watch, his pen in his mouth, looking so perplexed his eyes are almost crossed. John stops, puts the wine bottle back, and puts his hands in his lap.
The other cop is writing things down in his pad. The pad is so small. His pen is really small, too. They seem too small, the pen and pad. Personally, I would want a bigger pad. Then again, with a bigger pad, where would I put it? You'd need a pad holster, which might look cool but would make it even harder to run, especially if you have the flashlight attachment.. I guess you need a small pad so it'll fit on your utility belt-- Oh, it would be so great if they called it a utility belt. Maybe I could ask. Not now, of course, but later.

THAT IS SO FUNNY! And the idea that he wants it to be called a utility belt... how cool.

Now onto the next and last quote:
So, John has been sent to the hospital after his suicide attempt. The protagonist goes to visit him, and sitting at his bedside, tries to give him the will to live again.

"I'm so tired," he says.
"Me too," I say, perhaps too quickly. "We're all tired."
He brings his knees to his chest.
"No, I'm really tired," he says.
He rolls onto his side, his back to me.
He wants to be encouraged.
I put my hand on his shoulder. I can't believe he's going to make me give him the speech. I am livid that he's going to make me give him the speech. I do it, piecing it together from times I've seen it done on TV and in movies. I tell him that there are many people who love him and would be crushed if he were to kill himself, while wondering, distantly, if that is the truth. I tell him that he has so much potential, that he has so many things to do, while most of me believes that he will never put his body and brain to much use at all. I tell him that we all have dark periods, while becoming ever more angry at him, the theatrics, the self-pity, all this, when he has everything. He has a complete sort of freedom, with no parents and no dependents, with money and no immediate threats of pain or calamity. He is the 99.9th percentile, as I am. He has no real obligations, can go anywhere at any moment, sleep anywhere, move at will, and still he is wasting everyone's time with this. But I hold that back --I will save that for later-- and instead say nothing but the most rapturous and positive things. And though I do not believe much of it, he does. I make myself sick saying it all, everything so obvious, the reasons to live not at all explainable in a few minutes on the edge of a psychiatric ward bed, but still he is roused, making me wonder even more about him, why a fudge-laden pep talk can convince him to live, why he insists on bringing us both down here, to this pedestrian level, how he cannot see how silly we both look, and when, exactly, it was that his head got so soft, when I lost track of him, how it is that I know and care about such a soft and pliant person, where was it again that I parked my car.

Not the funniest, but definitely interesting.

Anyway.

I don't know if I've posted recently. So monday night I went straight home and spent the night assembling my Ikea dresser. I sweated through all my clothes AGAIN, shocker. I tried to finish by midnight, then i was like "i'll relax until 1" then "ok, 2" then "ok, it's 2:30, i'm going to try to sleep." then "shit it's 3 and i still can't sleep... i'll listen to one of those hypnosis mp3s..." "3:30 SHIT i still am awake, what do I do?" "4 am... it would really be pointless for me to go to sleep now, because all that would happen is that it would be impossible to get up in the morning and i'd oversleep and miss work so i'll just stay up all night."
I can't really remember what I did, i think i watched youtube and listened to this Carlos Castaneda audiobook and swept, swiffered, scrubbed, and mopped the bathroom... It was still dirty from the guy who used to live here. The smell of urine wouldn't bother me so much but knowing that it's someone else's urine... just grosses me out the door.

Tuesday I worked... I was tired, but physically, not so much mentally. Hard to explain.

After work I took the subway back home and decided to move my car (even though i technically didn't need to move it until thursday morning) and i drove down into Clinton Hill and parked on Clinton Ave. by DeKalb, 2 subway stops away from my home station. But for some reason it's like, if I am going to end up on myrtle by clinton, rather than walk 1/3 mile south to Lafayette to take the train west and get off on clinton and walk another 1/3 mile north i just walk the FULL mile down myrtle. And i don't mind it. I like walking on east-west streets more than north-south streets, I think.
Here is a picture of a house on Washington that really reminds me of Benton Park, where i grew up.

So anyway, parked my car, and on the way home... (this is funny because i didn't actually get home for another 3 hours...)
I stopped at the bank, got some cash, and walked to La Stella or whatever it's called and talked to the bartender there, Fred, and had some tamales, 2 beers (3 maybe?) and a Mojito (which was FREE because Fred is cool).

I really did not like the mojito at all. I was so disappointed. Bacardi makes it look like such a fun drink.

Ok, i just watched that, and how stupid do they think we are? he spends the entire 30 seconds grinding up the leaves then at the end when they're in the drink they're whole again? WTF?

It's a stupid commercial, but to appease the masses i've decided to make my posts more media-intensive.

Anyway, so then I left and decided to check out this bar called "Vesper" which was like 2 doors down, and even though i go walking on Myrtle all the freaking time I usually just go to Rope which is stupid because it's not that great of a bar.

So Vesper had an OK attitude, i was already pretty drunk (AND running on zero sleep to top it off) when i got there, so I probably can't judge its greatness very well. There weren't many people there and i was like "What the hell, it's almost 10!" and they were like "yeah, maybe in an hour." I was there about an hour and the number of people at the bar went from like 5 to 8... so not so cool. But still. I ended up talking to this really neat guy called Aaron, and we had a couple beers and played the dot game, then we left together (lol) and... went to another bar! I bought him a beer and myself a Bailey's and after the bailey's I was like "Man, i'm so thirsty, i need to get that bartender's attention so I can order another drink!" and Aaron was like "Um, maybe you should have a water, are you sure you're going to be able to walk home?"

And i thought it was pretty funny that someone would worry about a person being too drunk to ... walk.
It was funny until i realized he was totally RIGHT!

The problem with drinking is I always drink sitting down. And I don't really realize how much I've had to drink until I stand up, at which point my reaction is usually "Oh, shit."

Anyway. Said goodbye to Aaron and walked back to my place. I took some videos of myself talking to... myself... while I was wasted, and they're kind of funny, but i'm going to have to edit them before/if i post them.

I actually slept last night, a few hours!

Then today at work I was offered a different position, which, to respond, took me about 5 minutes, i was waffling for a long time "well, i mean, i don't know, i mean i wouldn't mind, but i like what i do now, but i do like doing this job as well, so i'm not sure, i mean, what do you think, does someone else want it, if someone else wants it they can have it, but i mean i guess it depends on their degree of wanting-ness, and i know i don't REALLY want it but i'd be willing to take it you know?"
All this OUT LOUD.
Standing in the aisle at the grocery store for 10 minutes internally debating on which cotton swabs to buy is one thing, because people just look at you and think you're crazy, but the kind of external monologue i performed today not only allowed others to think, but also to SEE that I'm crazy.
So yeah, didn't really give a straight answer.

But anyway. I did that job all day and I kind of hate it, but at the same time i'm constantly reminded about what a shitty job I did in the other department, so OH FREAKIN WELL.

So all day today I felt absolutely TERRIBLE. I mean i expected to be hungover, but i did NOT think i would feel so sick. I mean for me hungover means a constant headache, sensitivity to light and sound, slight dizziness, but the worst things about it are: pressure in the upper chest, kind of like gas when you have to burp but can't, and kind of burning, annnd nausea. today i felt so sick i thought iw as going to have to run to the bathroom a couple times. I haven't ever go... wait, i have gotten sick from drinking. But that was the first time I'd had more than like ... well, i think that was like the first time I ever had beer. And that was january. Sad.
I wonder if it was the Mojito, because i'd never had one before, and it tasted really freaking disgusting. At least it was free.

So anyway, felt horrible all day, counted down the minutes until the end, and right as i was closing all the software to log off of the computer (I should have just let it go to sleep, god damnit!) someone came over and needed something so i had to reopen everything. I mean, christ, i was already standing up and wearing my retarded hat, maybe this guy should have taken a hint!

But anyway.

I stopped at the store on the way home and bought some boxed and canned meals (living it up) and when I got home Stefanie convinced me to eat... Whenever I feel really sick I get paranoid about eating, because on the one hand i usually know for a fact that it will make me feel better, but at the same time i am super scared i will just get sick and throw it up. but hey, that's like a freebie, right? dayumm

So I had some soup, i ate on the deck because it felt kind of... stagnant in the apartment. Plus all the windows were open so there was no avoiding the humidity, i figured i'd at least go where there was wind.

Anyway, after the soup i got my pillow and just lied on the deck reading for a while. Deck? Balcony? Veranda? Porch? who knows. It kept kind of starting to rain, where there'd be a drop every few seconds, and it really ticked me off because, like, shit or get off the pot. Haha, i remember when the assistant principal told me that in freshman year of high school. I was EXTREME.

It was cool to sit and relax and read. I get addicted to shit SO FUCKING EASILY. Luckily, a reading addiction isn't too bad.

Man, so today I was reading and I read the phrase "for all intents and purposes" and fucking WIGGED OUT because I always thought the phrase was "for all intensive purposes"!!!!!
Does that mean I do not know how to read? I think it means I just listen a lot more than I read.
I can't tell you how long I thought the phrase was "take it for granite." I also remember years going by where I thought "It can't be 'granite,' i will listen very closely so that maybe i will hear what it really is, i HATE not being able to understand what people are saying..."


Anyway, after I came inside... to read... I was like "Welp, it's about 10, i should go to bed." and I was really tired, too, but i just got this flash of inspiration and i really wanted to do art. I didn't get much done because when I"m like this i get totally fucking ANAL about everything. These lines are maybe 3mm thick and I drew them all with .5mm pen. So imagine how much fucking "coloring" i had to do.
I spent about 3 hours on this.


If it looks perfect, that's because it fucking IS! haha

Also, since i'm clearly just overposting with pics, here's another one.

Where it says "Call Robin re:#"... the # is supposed to be a $. I made a typo. HAH!

Man, i'm so fucking retarded when it comes to To-Do lists. Originally it just said Take Out Trash and Bring Art, then i thought of a bunch of other stuff to put on it so it wouldn't be such a sad short list, but then i ended up with too much stuff on it (hence "mail stuff"'s presence above the title)

I'm probably going to get 2 of those things done.
When I make to do lists I really need to go easier on myself, put shit like "go to work" on it that's easy to check off. haha "go to the bathroom." "fill ice cube trays". Actually, that one is kind of a pain sometimes...

But anyway. I'm done now, maybe I will go to bed (as it is 3 am)... We'll see.

By the way: I talked all about that freaking book and I forgot to mention what it is.
It's called A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers.
This guy from work lent it to me, and I lent him The End of Alice by A. M. Homes. I feel kind of guilty because this book he gave me is like, about familial relations between a young man and his kid brother. And the End of Alice is about sexual relations between a young woman and a kid she babysits. And much, much more.

Screw that, who cares about feeling guilty? Just kidding, i do.

So I'm manic right now, that's for sure. Also, casey is coming up next weekend (i just found out) which is crazy because he was part of the clock crew, which was like 6 years ago, and he's one of the few from the whole NG/CC crew (CC Crew redundant I know) that still talks to me.
I'm starting to feel hot and dizzy. The laptop is the cause of the hot.
And nauseous. And hallucinating a little bit.
This isn't like, schizophrenia hallucinating though, this is like, vision quest hallucinating. I've slept like, what, 4 hours since monday and consumed more alcohol than food, so yeah.
I kind of like getting this tired, though, because you just sit there and write and you don't realize what you're writing because you're half asleep then you wake up and read it and it's brilliant.

8/24/2007 - no matter how loud I scream, you'll never hear me.

Goodnight.