the subway is a rollercoaster that takes you to work.

5 things you may or may not know about me

1. I can replace the 5-gallon water bottle in the bubbler, with an open cap.
2. I've been on many catholic youth retreats.
3. The phrases "glass of Beer", "munch on veggies" and calling a group of adults "kids" make me want to murder something.
4. I have excellent telephone skills while at work, but I can barely tolerate using the telephone for personal business or pleasure.
5. I currently make more money than I spend, and it's freaking me out.

Someone above has seen me do alright
Someone above is looking with a tender eye

Santa! Awesome!


Santa. Awesome.


I got my pics uploaded, finally. I am not happy with my temporary digital camera. I need to get my olympus fixed and sell this one to some stranger. If I've learned one thing about cameras it is this: spend money.

Then again, everything looks good in sepia.

APPLE FRIGGING PIE.

Asleep on a sunbeam

Just a clue as to how I'm looking right now: I'm wearing a turquoise sweater that I got at the salvation army for $5 (which was probably on sale at fashion bug in the early 90s for $12, but no matter) and I have fallen for this kind of slutty red nail polish that has chipped and smeared all over the end of my fingers. I am not caring.

My parents are coming down to New York tonight for a quick, surprise visit. They've heard about my bed situation and have made the fool move of buying me another one and driving it down. The one I sleep on now belonged to my ex-finance's aunt's ex-husband. I don't want to say the bed is "cursed". I prefer to call it "blessed with failure". It's not the bed's fault. It's really uncomfortable and falling apart and super noisy and I used a sock and some tape to plug up the giant hole in the middle where the spring was popping out and scratching my hip. I feel grateful for it and terrible about it, since my parents really can't afford to spend money on me like this. No on one child, anyway. I get the feeling there will be a reckoning of sorts next time all of us are together. I need to start baking, or perhaps, shove $1000 bills in some "I'm sorry mom and dad spent money on me after you paid their mortgage over the summer" cards.

I swear my officemate has that "to the left to the left" and "how to save a life" songs on a constant loop. I'm pretty sure it's just the radio, though.

I am going to buy new clothes someday.
A lot of my life, in what happens to me and between myself and other people only exists in my imagination, and yet it's still pretty boring.

Here is my little voice on another onion podcast. I haven't listened to it yet because I am at my office and I don't want anyone to come strolling over and know I have a life. I am on the one from January 22nd. Listen to it ovah and ovah so mines are most popular and they hire me a million times and elect me to president of everything.

Who keeps trying to hack this page?

Whatever.

It was an expensive weekend.

When I ordered prints of some pictures I took, I ordered 2 5x7 long exposure shots that I took of Big Ben. I mean, it's a pretty good shot, but I am not reinventing the wheel as far as the 1 million pictures that get taken of big ben every day. Why on earth would I even get one? And then get another one? My vanity is squared. I refuse to frame them. They're just going to sit on my desk until they get shoved in a drawer to be found by the next temp. Let's hope that happens soon, actually.

My Social Chemistry

After hearing from 3 now-friends who when they first met me they thought I was "kind of snobby" and/or "stuck up", I've become a little paranoid about the impression I give off to people. It sticks in my "craw" a bit as well, since I never, ever think of myself as better than anyone. Quite the opposite, to be frank. I had a bit of an epiphany last night and I formulated a theory:

being in a room with someone who makes me feel inferior X a bulging belly and shabby coat+ bad roots/greek letter(my desire to be invisible) to the tenth power = appearance of snobbery.

Just a little something I need to work on.

I know in my logical brain that working out/not drinking/getting hydrated/sleeping/reading a good book makes me far less depressed. I told myself this yesterday, through a 14-hour "I am a waste of oxygen" marathon. Today? After doing everything I told myself to do? a little cardio? Tea before bed? A stupidly perfect, light book to read on the subway because my ipod only works maybe 30% of the time?
Feeling: better. Outlook: brighter. Hair: dare I say-not awful. I am finally getting it.

Here's a clip of one of my friends on 30 Rock last week, banging on a table.

In other news, I'd love a new job.

MacBeth

Despite ruthlessly cutting the original text, retelling the story in a completely different order, and entirely doing away with several characters, Macbeth: A Walking Shadow, Andrew Frank and Doug Silver's audacious new adaptation of Shakespeare's classic tragedy, is one of the best Shakespeare productions I have ever seen.
. . .
Other standouts include . . . Amy Dickenson as the quietly put-upon Ross.

Going tomorrow night. Awesomex2.

The path has brought you here for a reason

That's the sign at the top of the stairs at the theater where I perform every wednesday. I always get a peaceful feeling when I read it. It's a reminder of how far I've come, and that all of the difficult things I've been through have given my life meaning.



Look how tender and nuturing I am as I have awkward simulated sex in a chair in front of a room full of strangers. Life is a journey, not a destination.

ha! Jen. Fine, then. Me too.

A list of names I'd like other than my own:

Agnes (she's the patron saint of virgins.)
Renee (kinda trashy, but I like it.)
Polly (my aunt's name.)
Maisy (I'm kind of weird.)

Anything outdated and cute, I like. There's a terrible monologue from a terrible play about a stand-up comedienne where she does her routine in the mirror. Whatever. Maybe it's a good play, I didn't read it. but she does a bit where she talks about how people aren't born with the name "Yvonne", they become "Yvonne". It's funnyish. It is hard for me to imagine people calling a tiny little baby "Yvonne". Or "Diane". Or "Helen". Or even "Sharon". Uh. No offense.

I have a hard time understanding when women are "threatened" by other women. I don't get it but I see it all the time. I have a pretty bad case of it today. There's a new lady training some other ladies in the office, and christ on a bike, she can't do anything right. Her hair is too much, her personality is over the top, her outfits are all wrong. Basically, she's pretty. I don't know how that is supposed to effect me as a person. But I fakesmile and listen as girls come to my desk and lean over and whisper wihtout moving their lips and make thier wide-eyed, "you know what I mean?" slow headshakes. She is a little high maintenence. I'll give you that. But no, I don't really know what you mean.


There was a tiny dust of snow today. It came down here all the way from Lake Ontario. It was a little kiss of winter from home.

Wimbledon is what I slept/puked through yesterday.
(It may or may not have been the cause of at least 50% of the heaves.)

Year of the Fire Pig

This year is the year of mouthaluvin' barbeque, muthatruckahs. Represent.

2007 is turning out to be the year of shitty, shitty news. Two of my friends are being laid off, (two more have quit for greener landscapes, like freelancing) my sister's neighbor kidnapped his children for 48 hours (word has it, they are safe and fine fro now, except for having a super-dickweed of a dad), also: other things. The pendulum is gonna swing. I can feel it. The buds on tha treez gonna blossom for you and me.

I look forward to weighing in tomorrow, because between not having time to eat this week, and spending yesterday throwing up nothing and not keeping anything down, I think I've started my inchwormy way to my goal. I watched The Wedding Planner, Legally Blonde, and something else that I slept through.
Beauty tip: broken blood vessels on the face and around the eyes due to strain from puking are not dead sexy. The More You Know! DING!

Inherit the Wind is on. So I am going to get off of the computer and go be in love with Gene Kelly. What are *you* doing right now?

Shrug. Nothin'.

I've been told twice in the past week that I "must have been raised right". That's a weird, nice compliment.

Also, a guy last night said the two biggest scams in America are higher education and cosmetics. How do you not fall a little bit in love with that?

I'm tired. Thursdays are hard. Today is hard. Every time my officemate says "huh?" It's like a knife in the ear of my soul. She says it a goddamn lot. Huh? I SAID SHE SAYS IT ALOT. HUH? NOTHING!

and I don't feel any different

I don't know what to start with. I had a nice new years. The past weekend is kind of blurry. My brother came down with his girlfriend and we spent a lot of time out and about, eating tapas (meh) French food (oolala!) and drinking (urp.) We went to a small get together at my friends Dan and sarahs place, and the downstairs neighbor banged on the ceiling at 10 and 10:30pm. Derf. Dan knocked on his door and he didn't answer it, and the banging stopped quite mysteriously. We also found out that Michael Hartney, THE Michael HArtney, grew up not just in the same town, but on the same street as I did. That's out of control.

I made some new years resolutions.
Do yoga. That's pretty simple. I don't know why I am so into it, but I feel like yoga has something I need.
I'd like to drop another solid 30. This is something I can and will do. I think that's a decent number. I am interested in fitting a little better in my clothes and all, while still filling them out, if ya know what I'm sayin. Keep/love/promote the curves, is what I'm talking about. Which might be in direct conflict with my other resolution, about maybe vaguely accepting offers of dates once in a while or perhaps, if I like someone, asking him out if I feel the need and know he is available.
I also need a new mattress and essentially and new bedroom set that isn't cursed. It's sort of like I am asking for them from Santa, but Santa is me and Christmas is all year long. I didn't make any career-based resolutions. I think I've kind of burned out on career. I am ready to re-acquaint myself with a personal life.