i think she's avoiding posting her "8 things"...

...and instead she's been posting this here camera-phone loveliness. silly girl...xoxo.

i put a spell on you...

...cuz you're mine.

I really really love that song!

(tangent)

If you were the only thing left to taste,
I could live lonnng and happy and fat.

it's called "8 things" (in no particular order).

So, I've never met this blogger, but something about her feels kindred. She posted this survey a few days back, and invited me to do the same. And so I have. And to keep the magic moving, I'll TAG four "friends" who's blogs are my favs-- Asabi, Redhotmama, Lex,and Rashad. Enjoy!!

8 Things I am Passionate About

1. Walking. Long walks have been my saving grace at times when I've felt like I might just lay in bed under a blanket all day. A long walk alone helps me see life outside of myself.
2. My writing. I call it my "writing on the side," but really it's so much more than that.
3. Babies. I obsess over them and dream about having my own.
4. NYC. I go up and down/back and forth (literally) with this city, but with every new day, it feels a little more like "home."
5. Road trips. I don't have a car, so it seems silly to like road trips. But sometimes, it really is nicer to drive through, than to fly over. And it's a great way to bond with a friend, a lover, or a child.
6. Live bands. In another life, I'd be cooler and musically-inclined and in a band. (I already have sort of band-like hair.)
7. Shoes. A good pair of shoes can boost a wardrobe--and a mood.
8. Old buildings with porches, pillars, and tin ceilings. If I ever own a home, it HAS to be old.

8 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1. Publish my memoir. I'd call it, "The Bravest Thing I Ever Did Was Writing This Book."
2. Make love on a beach, in the forest, on a mountain-top, and possibly in an igloo. Really, I'd just like to see the inside of an igloo.
3. Open that cafe/coffee shop with Hannah.
4. Live on the West Coast at least once. Either in San Fran or Monterrey.
5. Finally, find out what it's like to go backpacking through Europe.
6. Learn another language. My 8 years of high school and college espanol never stuck.
7. Have a garden. Even though I'm allergic and I've never had a green thumb--I love homegrown tomatoes....and so I'd like to grow my own.
8. Make a difference. I know that's vague...but when I figure out how I'm going to do it, I'll be more specific.

8 Things I Say Too Often

1. dot dot dot (...)
2. that's funnnnny
3. i love you
4. whatever.
5. you don't have to, but can you? But if you don't want to, nevermind.
6. Soooooo...
7. hun. (I call people "hun.")
8. let's go eat!

8 Books I Have Read Lately

1. The Glass Castle
2. Beware of God
3. BlackBook NYC (I don't like to put it down)
4. Love in the Time of Cholera (but didn't finish)
5. Angela's Ashes
6. They Poured Fire on Us From the Sky
7. Water For Elephants
8. White Guilt -- (still reading it.)

8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over Again
(I couldn't think of just eight, so I'm stealing from Etoilee8 and posting randoms from my iPod.)

1. Fool That I am - Etta James (but really, anything Etta)
2. Simply Beautiful - Al Green (but really, anything Al)
3. He War - Cat Power
4. Ball and Biscuit - The White Stripes
5. Adore - Prince
6. Lover's Spit - Broken Social Scene
7. Tulips - Bloc Party
8. On & On - Erykah Badu (I'm sorta "paying" homage to her today)

8 Things That Attract Me To My Friends

1. bitter, sweet, disgusting, vile, beautiful HONESTY
2. laughter and pure silliness
3. dancing all night then waking up at 8am to call and remind eachother that we are no longer eighteen.
4. kindness
5. strength
6. wit and sense of humour
7. love
8. purpose and stick-to-it-ness

the best part of sadness...

...is the ending.

Today, I had an "I get it" moment, and started to feel the transitional "rut" and mental exhaustion of MY NEW LIFE melting away. Maybe it's the first signs of Spring in NY, or maybe I'm just figuring out my place and seeing that the risk is sooo worth it. :-) Either way, I'm sappy and silly and lovey (I can't wait to rub my nose on the BF)--and quite possibly annoying--all at once...

p.s. Another source of highly-recommended goodness is this brilliant storytelling podcast I "discovered" last week. I giggled all the way home on the "1" train while listening to Dan Savage's nervy explanation of why he's not "that kind of gay."

i want to be brave...

...but i feel small amid all this bigness. can i? can i? what if i can't? what if I fail? what if i am a disappointment? when I was a kid, I buried my head in all sorts of science books--not because photosynthesis and mitosis interested me, not because I wanted to be a cell biologist--but partly because I had nothing better to do, and partly because I did not want to disappoint THEM. all these negative thoughts and self-doubt and fear.

just how I'm feeling lately...

but in happier news: I am no longer home-less.

i made it to the end of week one.

Oh, the melodrama! This is my most convincing impression of full-blown exhaustion. Are you convinced? My cerebellum hurts. Wait, or is it the temporal lobe? Either way I'm fatigued and can't think straight, yet secretly loving the new gig.

Today my friend Chris reminded me of my "special breakfast sammich." He's got a memory like an elephant...and I've got an appetite like one. Anyhoo, there we were, bright and early, two amigos, in the company cafeteria--building the Cream Cheese and Bacon Sammich on a Toasted English Muffin. (We also added a little butter to the muffin--for lubrication). Try it, trust me, you will not be disappointed.

Week one has come to an end...weekend-in-DC-with-my-hunny-bee, here I come!

p.s. next week, I want/hope to be back to me. I owe papier-mache some tlc. (ooohh, i made a cheesy rhyme)

i only brought two pairs of shoes with me.

what was I thinking? minimalist schminimalist! Today it rained and more rain is forecasted for tomorrow, and I only have a pair of high-heeled boots, and a pair of ballerina slippers. I must have been temporarily insane when I packed for this week. Shoe shopping perhaps? hmmm...

And one other thing I just haaave to mention. I'm staying with two men, and it's a frighteningly backward feeling to go to the bathroom and afterward--leave the toilet seat UP! If you use the loo in a guy's house, is it proper etiquette to leave the seat down or up--or does it even matter? Maybe I'm being too polite...and overthinking as usual.

sensory overloaded...

That about sums up my first two days here. Paperwork, meet-and-greets, lunch with co-workers, trainings, meetings, grounds tour, ID badges, more paperwork...you know the drill.

People say that you're "starting a new chapter" in your life whenever there are major changes. I don't say it, but sometimes I think it, and in sitting here typing it, I've been overthinking, "Well what if it's a tragic chapter, a low chapter, my last chapter--the chapter where I'm murdered or raped and left in a dumpster where some bat-shit-crazy kids find my dead body and then a sad, pissed-off cop takes my case but can't solve it because he can't put down the bottle?" (too much SVU).

On Sunday I arrived in NY and itrinsically put on my NY face, my NY walk, and heightened my senses and peripheral vision--NY style. I'll admit, I'm a little caught off guard by some passing stings of lonely. When I look at my suitcase on the living room floor, for a silly second my little inner voice says "It's just me and you." Snap out of it! Not sure why I feel new in a place that I already called home for almost five years. I shouldn't have to remind myself that anonymity is my form of peace...but yesterday and today, I questioned whether I'm becoming "too old" to be so aloof. **sigh**

I'm all over the place. I must say though, I miss the BF like Amy Winehouse must miss crack (dumb analogy), and talking on the phone is so NOT us. It feels strange. Strange like, "Get off the phone and come over here" strange--but he can't. (not yet)

Walking home today from the subway, I couldn't remember which streets Citarella is squeezed between. And then I didn't know why I bothered going into a market when I'm staying with a friend and not planning on cooking anyway--at least not until I find my own place. Guess I just like the familiar feeling of being surrounded by all things gourmet. One baked flounder. A scoop of spinach risotto. A carton of strawberries. Half gallon of whole milk. Box of Cap'n Crunch (that's not gourmet!). Munching on a bowl of cereal in front of the TV in my PJS always makes me feel at home.

p.s. While waiting for the "A" train, I actually contemplated whether or not to sit on the subway bench--had to inspect it first for gum, stains, and toxic substances. What's wrong with me? I've become some subgenus of germophobe. I really gotta snap out of it. I know, with time, I can be dirty again.

"start spreadin the news..."

I've always wanted to sing-song that and mean it. Anyhoo--I want to write about my bus ride, but for now, I've simply updated two teeny tiny tidbits in my Profile. Betcha can't guess what.

blue mumbo jumbo.

okay. i'm not really THAAAT sad...a little sad, but mostly just foolin' around with Photo Booth. (i'm obssessed with it.)

I want to be a freelancer. A stay-at-home, expense it to my company, live in my PJs and get paid out the ass for it freelancer. I've realized I cannot picture myself rotting away in an office, no matter how nice the view. So, now that i'm in my 30s, this is my latest goal. (I wonder how many times I'll start sentences with "now that i'm in my 30s.")

I just saw a recent pic of Meg Ryan and cringed. She's still a cutie, but where are her wrinkles??? She's gotta be like 50 or somethin'--Meg, girl--embrace aging...go with it.

And onto some very sad news...last week I heard that Beyonce might be playing Etta James in an upcoming biopic. You know I love Etta. I thought it was false--but turns out--it's happening. Just awful :-( "Dear Hollywood, As you may or may not know, there are actually REAL actresses in your little town..."

Today is my LAST DAY of work--before I start my new job next Monday. Wow--I mean, it's just another 9-5pm, but I'm really proud of myself. Of course, there's a part of me, as always, that's fearful that on my first day, HR will say to me "Oh, you didn't get our email? We actually chose someone else for this job. Sorry." Or even worse, I'll start my job and my boss will find out that I really have no idea what I'm doing. A teeny tiny tidbit about my new gig that excites me is that I'll be blogging--FOR PAY!! (HOLLLA!!! --as the BF would say)

After years of being told "you need your head examined," I'm finally getting it done--but not because of all the crazy lurking up there. My new allergist thinks I might have a deviated septum...so, we'll see. My first thought was--"Hey, a free nose job!" My second thought was, "Just don't make me look like Janet Jackson."

UPDATE: So, I don't have a deviated septum...but I do have some "structural issues." So, now I'm waiting for my radiology report. oy vey.

but you'll hear my snort laugh on weekends.

(though, I know it's not the same.)

"it finally hit me...what it will be like to not have you
around to kiss and hold every night. I was in the shower
and i wondered, 'wow I'm not going to hear her snort laugh
every night.' you know the little lovable things about you
I realized you're going to take them all when you leave.
Wow i'm going to miss you."

it hit me really hard today...

...on my walk to the metro. "I will not be here next week." *sigh* Instead I'll be walking to the subway. And your keys will not be on the floor at my front door.

monday morning: the bean edition.

mi favorito coffee shop, Murky Coffee, has been seized by the government for tax reasons. Damn you Uncle Sam! All the more reason for me to get thahelloutof this city. Murky is pretty darn perfect--albeit the long lines (I can never tell where it begins and where it ends). It's been a pleasant weekend staple for me and the BF. Every weekend, we take our morning caffeine-fix walk...order two small coffees with a vanilla shot in each (is it Kenya or Ethiopian brew?). The BF is heavy on the sugar, I'm heavy on the half n' half. Then, we walk to the market for breakfast--cups in hand--discussing babies, books, and our plans for the day.

I'm very very very distraught over the (hopefully temporary) closing. My fingers are crossed that this wonderful shop fixes it's financial woes and re-opens soon...like by this weekend. I don't want Starbucks!

p.s. I didn't know coffee grinds help a garden grow.

***************
Photo from DCist

i've been thinking about getting a puppy.

And now that I'm moving, and I'm sure I'll be a bit lonely for a couple months, it'd be nice to have a little furball to come home to. But, puppies are like babies, right? hmmm. Seems like we've had this discussion before.

Today I saw a little nightstand on the curbside outside my house for garbage pickup. I thought "Wow, that's too nice to throw out," and just as I considered giving it a new home, I noticed dozens of teethmarks all over the top of it--and several chunks had been bitten out of it. Damn.

A little backstory: My neighbors have a puppy from the darkside, and by darkside, I mean hell. It's gotten so out of hand, they've hired a doggy nanny to try and tame her. When they first brought Doggie home, my roomie and I noticed right away. We didn't see her, but oh, the screeching and howling sounds coming from the basement spelled either anarchy--or a new doggie--or in this case, a little bit of both.

For the first week or so, we thought "poor Doggie. She doesn't like being home alone." But that thought quickly faded as we were subjected to regularly scheduled howling attacks during our evening TV shows. Then, things got considerably worse, not for us, but for the neighbors. One day, when taking the trash out, I saw two sets of shutters in the neighbors recycling bin. First off, are shutters even recycle-able? And secondly, the poor shutters had been ripped apart and were covered with doggie teeth marks. I guess, pressing her little doggy face against the windows while the neighbors were away at work wasn't convincing enough. She had to further prove the point that she wanted out...and what better way than by destroying what she saw as the thing preventing that? Makes sense. If I were trapped all day in a basement, I'd completely bite away at the shutters.

During the next several weeks, the "Doggie situation" did not improve. Me and the roomie got used to it, and maybe the neighbors just learned to conform to Doggie's whims and destructive behaviors. At least once a month, there was another ruined piece of their aparment on the curbside for garbage pickup--a 2nd pair of shutters (yikes), a lamp shade, other things damaged beyond recognition, and today, a cute little wooden nightstand.

Now, my thought about Doggie is of course "There's no freakin' way!" I'm not that patient with anyone, and I definitely wouldn't keep a dog that chewed away at my apartment. Plus I adhere to the fool-me-once-fool-me-twice rule of thumb. These people must have the patience of Mother Theresa--or maybe they're prepping for parenthood. Either way, they must really love that little devil.

Whatever it is, they've ruined (temporarily I hope) my desire for a puppy. Besides, I think it might be a bit cruel to keep an active doggy cooped up in a NY apartment. Maybe I'll adopt an old lazy cat instead.

the more i look at that painting down below...

...the more i like it. When I posted it I thought, "ehhh, it's okay, but I prefer her other work." And still, it's not my favorite, but i'm opening up to it. There's something poltergeist-like about it. Anyhoo...

This little friday smidgen was brought to you by a blogger who's 2nd to last week of work is kicking her ass. She hopes to be back to her regularly-scheduled posting very soon.

Have a happy weekend. Don't forget to Spring forward!

my life is so hard.

Weeks worth of packing, crammed into about 10 days--and i'm finding it difficult to start the first box. I want those neatly labeled boxes that are easy to unpack--but likely, I'll have those cluttered "I don't know what's in there" boxes. At times like this, I wish I had a Samantha.

Here's something beautiful to look at by DC-based artist Sylvia Snowden--one of my favorite living artists. I first fell for her work about a decade ago--it was "Malik, Farewell 'Til We Meet Again" at the Corcoran Gallery. I lost track of time, but it had to have taken me more than an hour to get through that two-room exhibit. You know when you're at a museum and you see folks standing there glaring into a piece of art as if waiting for it to talk to them? I always think they're full of it. But Sylvia's work is glare-worthy to me...it talks to me and tells a story. One that is thick and paste-like and multi-dimensional. In "Malik," Sylvia remembers her son who was killed in a shooting when he was 18. She displays his belongings mostly, covered in goopy paint, arranged together to represent stages of his life--and I remember wanting to touch his high chair, squeeze his basketball, and try on his sneakers.

sleeping all day on a saturday...

...is not just for lazy high school kids. I actually planned a "sleep marathon"--well, more like a stay-in-bed-all-day-athon (put this on your to-do list), and it's been magical so far: woke up at 10am, made pancakes and bacon, ate pancakes and bacon, watched cartoons (the BF's a fan), took a nap until 4pm, a mid-day shower, a blog entry (ha ha), and next--the first season of House, M.D., followed by my famous fried chicken and a home movie. Heaven!

A few days back, a fellow blogger made the observation that my hair in this post bears a striking resemblance to Chaka Khan's hair on her "The Woman I Am" album cover. And here is my favorite CK album cover (from 1979's "Chaka"). I'm honored to share even a minute likeness with the lovely, legendary songtress--with great hair might I add. (I think I wanna hear "Stay.")