28 posts tagged “meee”

I have definitely been copping out of honest posts in the past week or two for various reasons.  My ADD is pretty much in overdrive, meaning that even right now as I sit here with a concerted effort in mind to just write it out, my mind is three activities and subject matters ahead of my fingers. 

Some fabulous and ridiculous things* happened this weekend, but all in all it resulted in a tremendous boost to my overall happiness.  The weekend's mission was not necessarily to find an apartment so much as it was to check out the housing market, really get a feel for what was going to be possible and what just wasn't.  And, sure, take into consideration that I'm a jumper, so I could foresee me just signing the lease of the first place we looked at, no questions.  I'm just that girl - I don't like wasting time and I know what I want (for the most part), plus I'm not that hard to please.  (On a side note, that totally seemed like something you would put on an ad for a dating site.  I digress.)  Long story short, the guy who is going to be my roommate pulled some seriously irresponsible bs regarding an apartment we had semi-decided on getting and I realized that just living with him was going to be an exercise in futility.  I love the guy (gay best friend) on that next level, but he's just the epitome of irresponsible (e.g. he owes his roommate for six months of rent at this point .. not a good omen, friends).  He's never cleaned the bathroom or the kitchen or anything at his current place, and as far as I can tell, he hasn't yet gotten a rent check in on time (even though all the money is coming from his father who just happens to be loaded).  He has no concept of money or how it works, and, to be completely honest, I can't see him faring too well in his new job because he doesn't understand that you can't take days off when you feel like it or you can't go out drinking every night.  What I'm getting at is that a few months ago I was in a relationship where I was like two feet away from being a step-mother and it pretty much solidified the fact that I have no desire to play mom.  Ever.  Especially to a grown-ass man.

Either way, I figured something out.  A friend is leaving his hella cheap place for England in August, so I'll basically crash in his living room for a week in June, sublet somewhere for July and the first two weeks of August, then move back into that living room to help him move and to move my boxes up from his basement/ to paint / to decorate .. his (male) roommates will be chill with me actually cleaning and decorating the place for the first time in the two years they have lived there (they have an entire living room they don't utilize because they never felt like putting furniture in it), and I'm certainly willing to throw down some money to make my home feel like an actual home.

Other than that, I've gotten the job thing 90% figured out, met up with some friends who will be living in a similar area to me, and really just kinda got the vibe back about living in the city.  I'm basically on countdown mode, and I'm hoping to just spend the next several weeks filling boxes and selling things I don't need and moving things on the weekends.  Grad classes start in a little less than a month and so here I am, just waiting for the word go on my transition.

*Note to self:  research the suffix -lous

Because I can’t formulate entire thoughts to save my life.  Or correct sentence structure, apparently.

+ I spoke French for the entirety of my dream last night.  Keep in mind that my knowledge of the French language is not such that I could actually do this in real life.  That being said, I might move to a French-speaking country tomorrow just to check it out, see if I can survive.  I think I could.

+ Coffee is a double-edged sword in my life:  I need it to wake up and function, but too much gives me the jitters and I can’t function in the least when that happens.  I also am (apparently) a novice at gauging when my stopping point is because here I am, Voxing instead of working, doodling instead of drafting documents.  

+ My iPod is on the fritz and I’m too angry to attempt to fix it.  Add in the fact that my anger is directed toward an inanimate object and there you have it.  I’m a little bit off my rocker.  

+ Ooh, also, in my dream last night I was rambling excitedly about Bush’s last day in office, which I claimed to be January 9th.  As I was driving to work this morning, I realized that I had switched the number of the year (09) into the role of the date (accurately it’s the 20th) and it upset me that I was incorrect in my dream.

+ Some students at the college are in an adjoining room to mine and are talking nonstop about Scrabble.  I’m only slightly annoyed because although I’m a fan of intellectually-backed pastimes, I’m not a fan of the fact that it’s all because of Facebook.  I was cool with Facebook back in the day (i.e. when it first came out and my college was one of the first six on it .. sign) but since it became a Myspace knockoff, I haven’t really cared.  Different post for a different time, I spose.

+ Beyoncé and Jay-Z are getting married today.  (Finally.)  They’ve been together since 2002 and while, yes, I am a fan of waiting it out and making sure it’s all god before tying the proverbial knot, they had a celebrity bullshit quota to fill.  Someone didn’t hand them the memo.  Obvi.

+ I’m playing Britney Spears obnoxiously loud to drown out the shitty eighties rock that my coworker insists on playing at an ungodly level.  Passive-aggressive, I know.

Nothing else.  Fridays are obnoxiously long for me because I work all day at the school(s) then head straight over to the bar for ten hours of drunken bee-ess.  Furthermore, I am working the morning shift tomorrow so as to have the evening off so the boyfriend and I can (drumroll ………….) take care of his daughter.  I can tell you’re jealous.

Good riddance all.  Hope your weekend is better than the prospects of mine.

I've been browsing Vox for admittedly a short period of time (thirty minutes, give or take .. it's been a slow day) and have not found anything that has inspired me to write.  There certainly is the possibility of writing paragraph upon paragraph on what it takes to inspire me, what muse can thrust me into writing, but the topic seems tired.  It seems like a Question of the Day, and I'm absolutely tired of them.

Essentially I'm sitting in my office bored out of my mind, waiting for four o'clock to come around so I can get in my car and drive out to see the boy, and even that doesn't seem too thrilling.  Maybe it's the whether, and maybe it's the mountains of stressful life decision of I need to make very soon, and maybe it's just that his idea of marriage is drastically clashing with my idea of asking favorite colors and childhood memories, but regardless of what it is, I'm just not feeling it right now.

Fail.

Revert back to college:

I'm sitting here at my computer finding everything to do but the report due to my boss at some point tomorrow.  And just like things probably were less than one year ago today (or even six months at this point, actually), this report isn't going to actually take much time to write (or, hopefully, complete), but I don't have a whole lot of interest in actually beginning it.

I'm such a cyclical, unchanging person.  One of those "old habits die hard" kinda people, and I always have been.  I'm definitely referencing an entry I wrote in another blog at another time where I was talking about my relationships and how I'm an "old habits die hard" kinda girl... anyway.

It's one of those things where I'm in a program that simply needs a written documentation of my professional journey and a simple explanation of what has worked, what hasn't worked, how to address those issues that arose, and how to build the program from here.  Simple, right, because I've been doing this job every day for six months; however, when things feel too simple, I just throw them under the rug until the last possible moment.  To be honest with you, I could see me just blowing this off tonight and emailing it to my boss at 4:59 PM ... yknow, cuz it would still count.  And he wouldn't be mad.  (Honest.)

So I suppose that I'm looking for inspiration.  I'm also throwing out there just one more example about how things never really change.  Aphorisms, baby.  Gotta love 'em.

I've been at work for less than an hour and I'm so exhausted it doesn't make sense.  Unsure how I'm going to make it through the day ...

Though this happened at the final stage of my weekend in New York, I think this is by far the most bizarre story, and the one that people have most responded to. 

Saturday night's festivities with my friends turned into passing out at roughly 6:30 in the morning, thus rendering me unconscious until four in the afternoon on Sunday.  I was seriously unable to function and get my shit together until mad late, leaving me to board the ten o'clock bus back to Boston where I was to retrieve my (other) car to drive it three hours back home. 

The bus I boarded was the cheap/sketch bus from Chinatown, NY to Chinatown, Boston (although it now actually goes to South Station in Boston, but you get the picture) and was packed with people returning from their various excursions in the city.  I had a seat alone near the back of the bus and it remained so until the last passenger boarded.  He looked around and then his eyes locked on me, twinkled brightly, and he darted toward the vacant seat to my right.  I had a churning feeling that he was just a little too excited.

He immediately sat down and expressed how happy he was that he was going to be able to spend his bus ride sitting next to a "pretty girl instead of a big, smelly guy", because both have happened and he certainly prefers the former.  He introduced himself as Sebastion, then decided that we were immediate friends and began in on a bizarre line of questioning, asking me about my work and if I have done drugs, then to expound on those experiences, then asked about my travels, then about if I have ever had crazy-random hook-up experiences.  I complied with the conversation not particularly because I wanted to, but because I thought it would be a really awkward ride if I ignored him or his repeated attempts at friendliness - I simply decided to make 100% sure I kept things straightforward and platonic with no room for misjudgment on his part.  This went on for roughly an hour, then we went on our respective ways to sleeping.  As I began to make attempts at comfortable bus-sleeping, I noticed that he was beginning to try and intertwine our hands and attempting to shift our coats (blankets) in an effort at what he called "pseudo-cuddling".  I politely declined, stating that it was colder if we slept "his way".

As we continued the ride, he would rouse from his slumber and begin talking to me again, noticing that I could not find a way to make the bus-sleep work.  On more than one occasion he kissed his fingers then placed them on my head, noting just how precious I was and how funny I am.  After hearing about my plans to embark on a three hour drive home following our arrival in Boston, he sat for a while then stated that he had a better plan:  "I only live about a mile from the station," he explained, "and I would like to hang out more with you cuz you're a rockin girl.  I think you should just come over and you could sleep on the couch or whatever and then since I have to get up early in the morning to do work, I could just wake you up so that you could get up and drive back to where you live."

Interjection:  The part that I noted was the "or whatever", with respect to the sleeping arrangements. 

For some reason, though, I really still thought he was trying to be nice in a really, really strange way and so, again, I flat-out declined, stating that I really thought driving back that same night was probably going to be my best course of action, but thanking him for his offer nonetheless.  His odd statements never ceased, ranging from talking about how others perceived him to be gay because of his European heritage and how he dressed (tight pants and long-ish, haphazardly-styled hair) to the fact that this bus ride (i.e. how we met) would be a great story to tell our grandchildren.  Additionally, at two points up to this point he had tried to convince me to kiss him on the cheek, and both times I adamantly declined.

Many talk-sleep-talk-sleep cycles had passed as we neared Boston, and we were on our last leg of talking.  I had, at this point, wrapped myself in my coat with my pashmina spilling across my neck and chest acting as both a blinder (to him from my chest) and a warming agent.  As he spoke and continued to dually bore me and sketch me out, I began absently playing with my pashmina, draping is over my part of my face and turning toward the window.  "You are just so adorable," he smiled, leaning towards me to pantomime my previous actions.
"Hmm," I replied, knowing that my actions had been boring and ordinary at best.
"Yeah," he said, then pulled the left side of my face toward him.  I pulled away while subsequently saying no, wondering what in the hell sign I had given him throughout the entire trip that told him I was willing to kiss him at any point, much less on a grimy bus.
"Bad Sebastion?"  he said, reminiscent of a child.
"Bad Sebastion," I affirmed.

He remained seated for a few minutes, then wandered to the bathroom in the back of the bus.  When he returned minutes later, he sat down and turned his body 90 degrees toward the aisle, his back to the right side of my body which was now laid down in the seat in a final pseudo-attempt at bus-sleep.  The remainder of our bus trip was spent in complete silence.

When we finally pulled into South Station in Boston, he popped up out of his seat and darted out of the bus, no final looks or final words.

The past nine days have been so ridiculous that I don't have words right now.  It's taken me about an hour already to just catch up on internet stuff, which is stupid.  I am so certainly going to bed in the next 30 minutes and will share some stories in the upcoming days.  Please note that none will be embellished or fabricated, which clearly indicates that my life is a fucking joke most of the time.

Kisses.

Dear Guy Who Came to Work All Week With Pneumonia,

Fuck.  You.

Because of your dire need to come to work and sit in the next room over heaving like an eighty-year old veteran and coughing like your lung is only milliseconds from detaching itself and projectile exiting from your mouth, I am now sick.  You had better be thankful that I'm too impaired to walk and that a massive snowstorm has decided to envelop New England, thus rendering me unable to hit New York for the weekend, because otherwise the blame would have lain entirely on you if my weekend was shot due to my feverish state.  You, asshole, are the reason that I cannot think, save for this diatribe because I am so fueled with anger, because my head is so heavy.  I am sentenced to a three-day weekend in my bed mashing up chicken noodle soup to drink down since my tonsils are the size of Montana.  Thanks to you.  And all of this means that I will lose three more days of my life feeling like I would welcome death for a moment of relief all because you thought it necessary to bring to my place of work your cesspool of germs.

In closing, I hope one of your testicles is somehow dismantled from you body in the upcoming days.  You are a selfish bastard, and fuck you.

Kisses,
The Pretty, Un-Pregnant, SICK Girl from Work