20 days to break a habit...

I don't know where to start.




I'm going to be blogging more. But it's going to be different.




I've run out of good stories. I'm no longer working alone in a blind man's basement. No longer living with my crazy religious parents. No longer going on random dates with sketchy drunk russian guys.




I'm going to try and get better stories for you. I had one ready to go and I asked my non sketchy non drunk non russian friend ben to put together a corresponding image to post with my story. I figured this would make people forget that it wasn't really an interesting story at all. That was the plan. If you've met either Ben or myself then you know what happened. No picture, no story, sorry.




I've been saying sorry a lot recently. I want to stop. I want to stop having to say I'm sorry. I've been unhappy for a while. I want to stop all that. I'd like to stop working in advertising and living in Jersey City but that's not going to change at least for the next six months (the latter at least, who knows about the former). In the meantime, I'm going to focus my attention elsehwere. Here for one.




My friend Ben told me that it takes 20 days to break a habit. I believe him. April 1st is exactly 20 days from today. I've mentioned before that I don't like March. Mostly because it's a lie. It lies to you and makes you believe it's something it's not. I feel like I've become March. It's also a 31 day month with not a single closed work holiday. That means an extra long month of full five day work weeks.




But this March is going to be different. Every year March pushes me. It just pushes and pushes. This year, I'm fighting back. Watch out March, I'm coming for you!




I'm going to be posting on here a lot more. Some of my posts will be similar to previous posts. Some are going to be super duper random and maybe not make sense to anyone but me. I'm okay with that, I hope you are, too. Some of my stories will be about things that happened last month, last year, or even longer ago, when I actually had good stories to tell. Maybe by writing about them, I'll remember what makes a good story and I'll be more aware when a good story opportunity presents itself to me in the future.




During my not-so-brief blogging hiatus I was updating my tumblr truth and beauty bombs. You can check that out too if you want. Again, a lot of the stuff on there might make sense to no one but me, but a lot of its shiny and pretty so feel free to take a look around. A lot of the extra random stuff on there will probably eventually become a longer post explained on here so, you know, that's cool.




I guess I hope people read this. I mean, that's the point, right? I guess it doesn't really matter. I guess that's part of the habit. Caring if anyone's reading this. So maybe in 20 days it'll all be different. Maybe in 20 days it'll all be good again.

Someone call the ASPCA!

This is some serious form of animal abuse. There have to be some sort of laws against this:














That dog right there is just begging for someone to put him out of his misery!

New Jersey: We Make New York Smell Better

I love New Jersey. I make fun of it on occasion, I admit it. But I live here, so I can. I talk about moving, pretty much all the time. But not so I can live in New York City. I talk about moving somewhere warm and pretty. I want to live in Hawaii or Stars Hollow. I don't see what the big deal is of living in the "City." (I'm so going to get beat up on my way home from work tonight for this, I know it). But honestly, if Whitney Port's portrayal is at all accurate (which it is most definitely not), then I see no big draw. Seriously. It's expensive, it's cold, and it smells.



I know, I know. I drive on the NJ Turnpike through Newark often enough to know that saying NYC smells is being not even a little hypocritical. But the rest of NJ...is pretty much the explanation for the name the "Garden State." Get away from North Jersey and even some of the suburbs of Central Jersey, check out the Jersey Shore, Princeton, Cape May, and north north Jersey (the north Jersey that's not near NYC) and you'll be amazed at the beauty of this state.



I was with my friend Ben on his first trip to NJ. I took him to Princeton through the back roads of Cranbury and Grovers Mill. He was amazed that this was the same state that he always associated with the opening scenes of The Sopranos.



"It's not dirty! It doesn't smell! You guys don't talk funny! Where am I???"



Unfortunately, when my friend Ben actually moved to NJ, he moved to the exact location he imagined all those times he made fun of our fine state. C'est la vie.



My point is that NJ gets a bum rap. And I'm sick of it. Leave NJ alone! If for no other reason, then because it's an easy joke. Be creative. Make fun of a more deserving location. Have you ever been to Nebraska? Come on! That place is much more disturbing than NJ! I think you're all jealous personally. We have White Castle and Wawa and we don't pump our own gas! We know what we're doing man! NJ does it right!



Want proof?



Aromatic Mystery in New York City Is Solved



That's right. We made New York smell better! Not that we don't do that every day with the hundreds of thousands of commuters that come over on the PATH, ferry, or NJ Transit. My favorite part of the article? The following quote:

“New Yorkers smell a little smell and they’re getting all paranoid,” said Jay Beqej, 33, who works at the Fairview Public Works warehouse.

Haha! Stupid New Yorkers!



Why the hostility you ask? Why am I reducing myself to their level (them being those that needlessly mock New Jersey)? Because last I checked E. Hanover, Edison, Mt. Olive, Ramsey, Wayne, Princeton, and Mt. Laurel were all in New Jersey. We're not talking on the border of, or right across the river, we're talking very much WITHIN the state of New Jersey and yet f'in Macaroni Grill denies New Jersey even exists!



I can take the easy cracks at the "armpit of the country." I can laugh it off. I can smirk at Comedy Central's new subway ads that thank the many funny things in this world that give that channel its programming, which lists along with George W. and mullets, the state of New Jersey. But there's only so much a girl can take. And denying the state I was born and raised in even exists? Denying my home even has a name?



I'm sorry, but that's where I draw the line.



Edited to note: I decided to search further to see if maybe they are only suggesting that these locations are near NY and PA, but are in fact in NJ. So I searched locations within NY, thinking if they maybe had a NYC location they would list it under NJ, but no, they have two locations with the subheads being Albany and Rochester. So what I now can't figure out are whether they are suggesting that NJ doesn't exist and these locations are in NY and PA, or that Philadelphia and New York don't exist and are merely subdivisions of New Jersey, like Albany and Rochester are for the state of New York. In which case Macaroni Grill is arguing that New Jersey is so great that it encompasses all of the great cities in its surrounding areas. So either suck it Macaroni Grill, or rock on!

Cruel is...

the radio station I wake up to in the morning giving away billy joel tickets to the 25th caller...

and me without a cell phone.

I've got a bike. You can ride it if you like. It's got a basket, a bell that rings, and things to make it look good.

I was twelve. Anthony was in his first year of college so he couldn't go. It was my dad's annual union picnic. We hated these things but we went every year for my dad. He was in his element there. We just stood around awkwardly. It was better together, but it was just me and it was no fun.

There was a pool but it was crowded. There was food and games but I was too young or old to enjoy most of it. There were raffles. Things no one needed or wanted. Except the bike. I wanted a bike. I was going to wait until Christmas - that was the bike holiday. Kids didn't just get bikes on any random day. Birthdays and Christmas and it was summer so I had some time to wait. But there was one there. At this picnic I didn't want to be at. My dad could tell I wasn't having fun no matter how hard I tried to pretend. He appreciated my attempt and he bought a raffle. "You're getting a bike today," he told me. I wanted to believe him but didn't want to be too disappointed if I didn't win. The day dragged on. My dad was having a good time and I tried to stay out of the way. It was the last union picnic we would go to. The year before Anthony was there and he kept me entertained. His being there also meant my dad could drink because Anthony could drive home. This year, it was just me and my dad and it wasn't the same for either of us. We stayed until the raffles were pulled. I didn't win. I wasn't too disappointed. I was just ready to go home. I would wait until Christmas.

As we drove I put the day behind me, the crowded pool, the picnic food, and the bike. Driving down rt. 18 I didn't realize where we were going until after we pulled into the parking lot of the bike shop. "I told you you were getting a bike today," my dad said as he got out of the truck.

It was a deep purple Trek bike and it was perfect.

The point is, someone stole my bike. I'm going to beat them up if I find them. I hope it wasn't you.

Who needs a house out in Hackensack?

I have to move. I don't want to. I went to look at a place the other night with JM. Despite being only a block from where I live now, the area was surprisingly super sketchy. Despite being only about $200 less than what we now pay for a three bedroom apartment with a full living room and fairly nice sized kitchen, this place was two bedrooms, each the size of one of my closets currently, and a kinda kitchen space/room. And it was dirty and sketchy and gross and I would never live there.

And everything I find on Craig's List is either super expensive or a scam so I've narrowed my options to:

1. moving back in with my parent's (ha)
2. moving in with anthony and jill in montpelier (i would totally actually do this if it didn't mean that two very important people in my life would pretty much never talk to me again if i did)
3. quitting my job, selling all my belongings and moving to peru (or beirut)

So I called my parents to get their thoughts on my options. My dad's suggestions (I'm not making these up!!):

1. JM moving into my current room with me. Get bunk beds.
2. move in with a recently married friend of the family who just bought a house in monroe

Any guesses to the final - and absolutely serious - solution from my parents...

Yup that's right....
3. Pray about it! Give it up to God!

When I end up homeless in a month, you'll know who to blame.

This is how I went crazy. Slowly and then quickly.

I was up late already last night. I got distracted by the past and didn't want to sleep. I was thinking about London. I was reading Sylvia Plath in my bed and listening to my Itunes. It was almost 2am.

I turned off my computer and put the book away. Turned off the light and put head to pillow ready to sleep. And then I heard a sound. Something vibrating. I thought maybe I had gotten a text message but my phone usually beeps along with vibrating when I get a message. Also the sound was muffled and my phone was right there on my night stand. I checked, no messages. I ignored it.

A minute later, and another vibration. I tried to think of what could possibly be making this noise and realized that, besides my silent phone, there was nothing. I ignored it and tried to sleep.

I wake up thinking it's morning. I swore my alarm had woken me up but when I look at the clock I realize it's only 2:40 and I had barely been asleep an hour. It was that sound that had woken me. That almost silent vibrating sound. I looked around trying to find the source - nothing. I got out of bed trying to see where the sound was loudest but there was no change in volume. I thought maybe it was an alarm of some kind going off but there was inconsistency to the vibrations. A minute apart and then a few minutes of silence and then three within thirty seconds. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but I couldn't. Every time my eyes closed it went off again and I would be awake. Loud car alarms I could sleep through but this damn near-silent vibration had me wide awake - and thoroughly pissed off. Past 3am at this point, I start getting paranoid. I start imagining scary movies where you realize that the killers under the bed after his cell phone goes off and the idiot victim is all "OMG - He's in the house!!" Luckily, I have so much crap crammed under my bed there's no room for B-movie villians but I check anyway. I look in the closets in the living room adjoining my room. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. And again the bzzzz of the phantom vibrations. By 4am I'm in tears. I just want to sleep. I just want to know what the f*** is making this sound. So I can destroy it. Crush it. Kill it. And then sleep. Peaceful sleep.

By 5, I think I've lost my mind. Maybe the sound is only in my head. Maybe it's the ghost of cell phones past. I think about sleeping on the living room couch but you can still hear it in there. I pull apart my room. Take my bed apart.

At 5:30am I give up. I put on my ipod earphones. Blast some Counting Crows and crash.

Two hours later my actual alarm goes off. I feel horrible and still a little crazy. I call into the office, opting for half a sick day. After I hang up the phone, I get back in bed, and I realize....silence. It's gone. Whatever it was, it's gone. And I sleep.

Tonight I'm sleeping at Alex's. If I hear it again when I'm back at my apartment tomorrow night, I may have to move. If I hear it again tonight at Alex's, I don't know what I'll do.

I am 32 flavors and then some...

But if you're looking for a little vanilla - check it. 

In completely and totally unrelated news (like not even a little bit related), I was totally going to post all sorts of awesomeness last night. Like about how Zooey Deschannel is my new bff, how I'm engaged and getting free meals, how bat shit crazy my family really is, how my mom hung up on me, how Mickey Dolenz and NKOTB are totally making my life right now, how sad Vampire Weekend and babies make me, how I'm thrilled and at the same time totally sad to be Tickles-less, how awesome sml cookies test run went, how I'm the star master, how I'm now a part of the Sara Kendall Trio - which actually really truly exists, how I'm embracing my complete nerdom and posting comic con pics, how the cat litter all over my floor makes me sad, how swallowing a bug only makes the top five list of gross things that happened to me last week, how much awesomer fantasy and lies are compared to reality, how gene chandler's gots moves, how much i love warm clothes weather, how much i detest being at the whim of people with cars, how much i love being car-less, how self-involved i really truly am, how i'm not a cat person, dog person, or people person and will surely die alone, but how being engaged fixes that problem, how i'm going to make my fiance clean up after me, cuz why else would you get engaged? how much i really want to watch newsies and dazed and confused right now and wish that a) i wasn't at work and b) i had a vcr or b) wish i had those movies on dvd cuz who even has vhs's anymore, and yes, all of this is really totally going on in my head right now and aren't you concerned for me??

but...i got distracted.

oops. sorry. try again later.

I thought maybe someone had died.

While having dinner with my *almost* entire family, I announced some devastating news. You see back in high school I had a pretty major hard-core crush on one, well considering the nature of my announcement I won't name names, let's just call him L. He was beautiful. He was tall and blonde and man, what a body! Athletic and tattooed and four years my senior and a major bad-ass so of course, love. My crush began the first time I saw him at one of my dad's boy scout functions at age 8 and continued right up until freshman year when he was a senior. I can recall word by precious word all two of the conversations I had with him. I would forever hold dear the idea that he was still driving around in the car he bought from my brother, a car I, too, had driven in many times. The end of my freshman year was the last time I saw L.

Eleven years did not hinder my crush. If anything, the time and distance only strengthened my feelings for L. I held dear in my heart the hope that I would one day randomly run into L. and he would of course immediately recognize me and fall madly in love with me and we would live happily ever after. I ignored the fact that over time I had completely forgotten what this guy even looked like. I ignored the fact while in the process of moving stumbled upon my old high school yearbooks, looked at his picture, and had to do a double-take, almost questioning what I saw in this person so long ago. Despite all this, I continued my crush, my hope, my love.

I recently stumbled upon (I was not stalking, I very honestly, and literally, stumbled upon) a picture of L. on myspace. And my tragic, devastating news?

Dude's fugly. Bloated and balding and dirt bag-y. I thought maybe it was the angle of the picture but there was another one and...it was worse!! An eighteen year crush crushed in a matter of seconds. A terrible terrible loss. A horrific stain on my happy childhood memory.

My family's response:

Joe: Doesn't he live in Arizona?
Anthony: I thought he moved to California?
Dad: No, he's a chef in Boston. He's married and has a kid.
me: Well, I would hope so, cuz his chick picking-up time has surely passed.
Jill: If I remember correctly, wasn't he always kind of dirt bag-ish.
me: Don't say such things!
Anthony: Yeah, he was never really all that attractive.
me: Blasphemy!
mom: Wait, that's your terrible news? I thought maybe someone had died.
me: No, only a small part of my heart.

things i'm missing about college these days:

1. care packages. i realize i only moved 45 minutes away. and that i'm home almost every weekend doing laundry. and that i'm not 18 anymore. but my parents could still send me care packages. or y'know, you could.

2. mail. my sister used to send wicked cool postcards and danielle sent the best letters. mostly to make up for the fact that she'd never call. now she doesn't call. or write.

3. learning stuff. i was way smarter four years ago.

4. friends. my friends were all so near-by. jennie was rarely more than a few feet from my side. i miss that.

5. readily available food. be it crappy caf food or a variety of fast food - food was always right there. and no cooking.

6. sleeping in. how sweet was that.

7. vacations. summer vacation. winter vacation. it was like i never had class. what i would give for a vacation right now.

8. money. i don't know how i seemed to have more money in college when i wasn't doing shit and now that i'm actually making a semi-reasonable salary i'm always broke. but that's how it was.

9. boys. i was so much more popular in virginia.

10. thinking about the future. it was a lot easier to say four years ago that we would totally do london '07 because by then we'd all be settled in our fabulous money-making careers and doing all these fabulous things.

frenchin' at 205.

saturday night. sorta bday celebration for jm and myself. i invited my best-y but since it was in the city she was a no-go. i didn't bother to really invite anyone else. i mentioned it two friends who live near the city. they were both down. neither showed. this is how the night began. not a good sign.

that afternoon i get a text from a 'roe buddy asking if i'd be in that area that night. i inform him i would not but that he should come out to the city for my bday. he claims he would've had he had more than a few hours notice. i blame ken since had she wanted to come out i would've invited everyone but since she didn't i didn't bother inviting the boys. not only do i feel like i have no friends since no one came out but now mf's pissed at me for not having invited him sooner. let's add that to the list of things that went wrong.

got dinner at stand with jm and her bf and her friend and her friend's bf. despite the fact that i am almost constantly hanging out with ken and don and am almost always 3rd or 5th wheelin' it, i have never felt more like a 5th wheel than i did at that dinner.

we inexplicably drive around the city for about an hour. what we're even doing in a car in the city in the first place is beyond me. we head over to sweet and vicious where a former kkp-er is celebrating her bday. it's small and crowded. i say my hello's and leave to meet back up with jm, etc. at 205. i remember 205 from halloween when i made friends with a creepy old french guy to get in on his table service. i resolve not to make friends with any creepy old french guys tonight. i find jm, etc. and am informed that jm's bf saw an olsen when they got there. my night is picking up.

despite dancing and relatively enjoying hanging out at 205 with jm, etc. i'm still sorta cranky for no reason. then i meet random french guy. luckily not creepy or old and a good dancer even but still not exactly what i need to get out of my grumpisness. i pull the bathroom card and lose frenchie.

i bail on 205 and jm,etc. around 3:30am. i consider taking a cab to the path as it's 3:30am, 40 degrees out, i'm wearing heels, am alone, and in the lower east side (nowhere near the 9th street path station). so of course i decide to walk. i listen to a lot of third eye blind on my ipod as i walk and feel weirdly fine. i get to the path by 4am and am waiting in the crazy drunk crowd for a train. i'm wearing my headphones, am still kinda in a mood, and considering even when perfectly content i still look like i hate the world, i'm imagining that i'm not looking entirely inviting at the moment so i'm surprised when the guy standing across from me starts talking to me. he inquires if i'm a dancer. i inform him i am not. i think it's a lame line even coming from a stupid 4am drunk guy. then he asks if i'm in my pajamas. i think this is the worst line ever and then i realize that my jacket is longer than my dress and so it just looks like i'm wearing leggings and heels - not exactly sleep wear but i see where he was confused. the path shows up and we board and he's telling me that he's a writer who's been out of the country for the last 4 years, traveling and writing. some weird gypsy-looking chick sitting near us starts motioning towards us, winking and bowing her head. giving us her blessing or cursing us. i'm not sure which. she then passes out. writer guy continues to talk all the way to journal square. he gets off the train and says he'll call me. i do not remind him that he doesn't have my number.

it's 5am. i put my headphones back on. motorcycle drive-by comes on. fitting i think. i remember that my car is parked at the path. finally i'm out of my bad mood.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I get sad.

Sometimes I think what the fuck am I doing?
I think about all of the things I said I was going to do once I moved. I think about those 7 months when I was spending four hours of my day and $500 a month on my commute and I'd say, when I move I'll have more time/money for this and that. And now I've moved and I feel like I never have any time/money for anything. I think about all of my friends at home that I hardly see anymore and how much I miss them and how much I miss just hanging out at Ken and Don's on Friday nights playing golf/hockey/links/f*** the dealer/etc. with Ken and the boys. Sometimes I think about who I used to be and how much I miss that person and I wonder if I'm really moving forward or just standing still?

Sometimes I get sad.

Then I remember that this time last year I worked alone in a crazy blind man's basement.

And then I feel better about life.