Sunday, October 30, 2005


my day, in boring detail

Freezing!!! I'm at home, in the study, and it's reminiscent of my high school days (and of my winter vacation college days...). My parents turn the heat down at night, and it doesn't exactly blast in here, so when the night falls, so does the temp. The longer I stay in here, the less feeling I have in my toes and fingers.

But, yeah, that's just me complaining.

It's so nice to be home. I got in last night around 11:30, and I'm flying out tomorrow around 6. The flight here wasn't bad, considering that I had a layover in Philadelphia. But it was only 30 minutes, so it was more of a "bathroom and buy candy" pit stop. Which was a nice plus. (Except when I was in the bathroom and I thought I had stumbled into a van Damme movie because some WEIRDO started kicking open all the stall doors. While wondering if I should scramble on top of the toilet seat to evade danger, the person kicked mine, and the lock held. Thank goodness.) For the first leg of the trip I read the style, art and home sections of the Thursday NYT that I had taken from my office (with permission, FYI), so that kept me happily occupied.

During the second leg, I turned on my "sleepy time" playlist, and fell surprisingly deeply asleep. Now, I don't know if you guys have seen/heard that Jerry Seinfeld bit about flight attendants zooming down the aisles with a cart and hitting peoples' elbows...but it's true.

I was pretty much out like a light when I got smacked in the upperarm with something. I awoke with a jump and a dull ache, to see the the dark shape of a cart barreling down the aisle, fleeing the scene of the crime. And the jerks didn't even stop! But I stayed plenty dramatic, rubbing my arm, and looking around plaintively to see if anyone noticed the grievance.

(no one met my eyes)

So uh yeah, that story was pretty boring. My apologies. Now for another one. Today was really nice. Woke up at 10 (from a disturbing dream, how typical), had breakfast (coffee cake and milk + tea, how typical as well), read the good parts of the paper (yup, pretty typical), and, for a change in pace, went in the hot tub while it was SNOWING. Lying there with my eyes shut, I felt positive that I looked just like they do in those spa commercials. I had makeup on - only my eyeliner was smeared from a night of sleeping. My hair was up in a bun - but instead of the slick do, my hair was bumpy and clumsily done.

But honestly, since no one was there taking pictures, I didn't care. I was totally in the zone. Even if someone had been taking pictures, I probably wouldn't have minded. It was so pictoresque.

After buying a spectacular wig at iParty, and dressing up jussst like Paris Hilton, I went to my family party, where I saw most of my cousins, aunts, uncles, ate a lot of food, danced to the YMCA with some cousins, and then danced to it just with Bren. I also beat Bub and two of my cousins at ping pong (but don't get the wrong impression, I'm not very good).

On the game plan for tomorrow: hitting up bed, bath and beyond ("don't go in that Beyond section!") & possibly linens n things for a double-sized microsuede red, purple or green duvet cover, possibly buying a wallet or something at TJ Maxx, jam-packing as much winter wear as possible into my suitcase, having lunch, going to church, heading back to DC with a layover in LaGuardia.

Not exactly the stuff of movie stars (or Paris Hilton), or very glamourous. But this is exactly what I need. And I think it's what you guys need after my last total disclosure post.

And on that note, I have no idea who reads this blog. There are five or six solid people who comment on a frequent enough basis. Jacob is my shining star of commenters, and Bub, Jason, Melia, C-note and E make comments fairly frequent enough (whether via this, IM, in person or e-mail). And I know Tansy and Patty read it...

But the rest of you are such freeloaders! You know who you are, the people right now who are feeling indignant by that comment. If you read this, it would be cool to know. Not because I necessarily care if you know my business (hi, this is a public domain) but because I'm clearly an attention whore who loves comments. If I didn't want comments, I'd write in my journal. (Which I still do by the way, and I'm almost finished with my second book. Yay!! But more on that another day.)

I may make you laugh, I may make you cry, I may bore you to tears. But please try to drop me a line in the next week or so, just so I know if anyone is out there. Or not. And if I don't get any "lines dropped" I'll live in my fantasy world and be all like "oh, tonnnns of people read my blog. They just like to play-hard-to-get."

so it doesn't really matter either way. But on an awesome note - and I feel like mentioning this now, because who knows how long it will last - but if you google my name, I am the TOP FOUR ENTRIES. HOLLLLA!!!

But on an alarming note, this blog is the fourth thing. I wonder if my current boss or fellow employees have googled me and read this?

(As they drop me a line in the next week, haha)

I have some future blogging ideas, most specifically the idea of sense of selves and how I perceive myself differently depending on which car I'm driving, but I will delve into that another day.

Not to sound like I'm making a business proposal or outlining the plan for a meeting or anything.

On that note...I'm off to bed.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005're my kidney...

There are some things in life that are so hard to do, but you know that you have to do them.

(and for all of you out there thinking this is another post about moving, it isn't. so keep reading!)

You know that if you don't do this thing, take this painful step, things will not get better, and they will probably get worse. As much as this step is killing you, you know that it has to be done.

Last year in Glamour's "Jake: A Man's Opinion" section, Jake talked about breaking up with a girl he called Orange Blossoms. He said that he loved her so much, but that he knew it wasn't working out, and that breaking up with her was like removing his own kidney.

I removed my kidney tonight.

I love someone so much...but we both know that it's not working out. We're not quitters, we've given it a couple of tries. We are perfect in so many ways. But we're not for each other, not like that.

And I know that in my head, but my heart needs convincing. So I told him tonight that I can't talk to him for a couple of weeks. I need to get this love out of my system, I need to stop holding out for more.

And I know the only way for me to be a good friend to him in the future is to take some time and not talk to him right now, because I don't want to fall back in. Falling back in will just cause pain to both of us. I'll be bitter, sad, he'll feel guilty and sad because of the way I feel.

A friendship is not based on those feelings. We need to start fresh, to re-boot the relationship. While that's not entirely possible, we can do our best.

So if you're reading this (and does me writing a blog entry about you break my rule?) know that I'm hurting too. That I'm doing this for us.

And when I take my kidney and put it back in with the phone call I make to you in December, we'll know that it was worth it.

I love you.

Monday, October 24, 2005


LIAM is in-the-know

Saturday evening Liam (Mr. Walsh? I forget what I call him in here) called me up. I answered the phone while I was spraying myself with all of the new scents at the Gap, so our conversation was interspersed with the sound of me sniffing my arm.

But that's an aside. He asked me if I wanted to go to the public garden tour at the White House the next day, and I excitedly said "Yes!" I've walked by the WH a gazillion times, but I've never so much as stuck my fingers through the fence. (because that's a quick way to being shot in this town) So even though we weren't hobnobbing in the mansion, it still made my day.

After waiting in line outside the gate for about 15 minutes, we got to the metal detector, with one couple between us and elitism. The woman had a massive bag (holla!), and the security guard lifted this giant bottle of scented water/perfume stuff out, and told her that she could not bring it in.

Being the resourceful woman that she is, she asked if she could please bring it in? And was soundly rejected. Then she asked if she could leave it at the table, and come back and get it, but the guard was having none of it and succinctly informed her that she'd be leaving by a different exit. He told her that she could bring it back to her car, but with a little whine, she said that they were parked really far away.

At this point, she had to make a decision. The line was building up behind her. She looked to the White House, back to her perfume, back to the White House. Then told her boyfriend/fiance/husband that he could go in without her.

He was like "ARE you kidding me?!"

I understood her tough choice. There are some material possessions that you just do not want to separate with, whether because of monetary value or because of sentimental attachments. But the man in her life and the security guard just did not understand.

So I tapped on her shoulder and said "Don't worry. I would totally do the exact same thing." She flashed me a smile, grabbed her perfume and stepped aside.

Here are some pics of me and Liam and our White House garden experience. And I know the one of me is awfully dark, but honestly, I don't feel like fixing it. So there!

Sunday, October 23, 2005


This is me.

Emotions are a funny bunch. They can get you motivated, put a big smile on your face, they can make you want to crawl under the covers, or if it's really bad, drop to the ground and curl into a fetal position, regardless of where you are. During those moments, no matter how old you are, you just want to run to Mommy.

There are some super emotions, like feeling love towards someone, or having the feeling that you are on top of the world. When you're full of love, it seems like you're just in the most fantastic place - and that you want to stay there forever. Gazing into someone's eyes, caressing their cheek, feeling safe and sound. If you ace a test, you're full of smiles, saying hello to random people that you usually don't enthusiastically greet, such as the man who gives you the free paper at the metro every morning.

And there are those other emotions - the ones that make you wish you were feeling anything but what you're feeling at the moment. Feeling sad is horrible - there's nothing like your heart sinking as you realize what you hoped for isn't going to happen. Sometimes life is just terribly unfair. And being angry is not conducive to anything. Working, driving, decorating a cake, nothing works when you're angry.

But the emotion that I hate the most is...jealousy. It's one of those things that is sneaky, it lies latent in your system, and you think that you've possibly grown out of it. You feel self-confident, knowing that your little stage of insanity has come and gone. Then something happens and it just tears you up. And it brings with it such self-doubt. I'm not talking about "oh I love her shoes, I'm so jealous!" But the kind that makes you feel like you're going to throw up, the kind that makes you cry in your pillow.

Other emotions are more clear-cut. When my dog died, I was very sad. I had a lost a wonderful companion, a friend that excitedly greeted me everytime I was in her sight (or hearing). When I do well on something, I am happy, and feel satisfied in a job well done. If I am falsely accused of something or if someone is terribly rude, I become angry. And it's okay, because those situations call for specific, pre-determined reactions.

But when I'm jealous? It's such a mix of emotions. Jealousy is made up of sadness, anger, insecurity, indignation, loneliness and fear. The combination rises up in my throat, makes me dizzy. It's consuming. And when in the heat of jealousy, when you feel like you're feeling the worst, another thought comes up.

It's along the lines of wondering if you're just being a fool, or if your emotions are justified. And that's what makes jealousy so bad for me. When something tragic happens, I know that it's okay to feel sad. When I see someone that I haven't seen for a while, I know it's okay to feel happy.

But when I feel left out, unimportant, disposable - I don't know if I'm just being "a stupid girl" or if I'm right to feel that way. It's a battle between feeling like crap, and wondering if I'm imagining the whole thing, thereby making me feel crappier.

I don't know how to beat being jealous. Maybe this emotion just means that I'm still immature and have a lot to learn about the world. Maybe it comes from not having trust, and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Or maybe it's not so much me, but how I'm treated. One time in the throes of jealousy and sadness, I asked my mom if I was being unreasonable. And she said to me something that I haven't forgotten - "Meghan, you are very rarely unreasonable."

Perhaps this is true. But I do know that I have a problem with that emotion, and that I need to work on it. I just wish that the process of working with this was easier. And caused a little less heartache.

"A jealous man always finds more than he is looking for."
- Madeleine de Scudery
French writer (1607-1701)


Feeling at the bottom of the list

"Making Memories Of Us"
-keith urban

I'm gonna be here for you baby
I'll be a man of my word
Speak the language in a voice that you have never heard
I wanna sleep with you forever
And I wanna die in your arms
In a cabin by a meadow where the wild bees swarm

And I'm gonna love you like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust making memories of us

I wanna honor your mother
I wanna learn from your pa
I wanna steal your attention like a bad outlaw
I wanna stand out in a crowd for you
A man among men
I wanna make your world better than it's ever been

And I'm gonna love you like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust making memories of us

We'll follow the rainbow
Wherever the four winds blow
And there'll be a new day
Comin' your way

I'm gonna be here for you from now on
This you know somehow
You've been stretched to the limits but it's alright now
And I'm gonna make you this promise
If there's life after this
I'm gonna be there to meet you with a warm, wet kiss

And I'm gonna love you like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust making memories of us
I'm gonna love you like nobody loves you
And I'll win your trust making memories of us


Is this too much to ask for? I know it's a lot. But it's not a crime to want someone who feels that way. Everyone wants to be adored. I'm no exception.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005


my instincts are HORRIBLE

Well, to amend that, I have pretty good instincts when it comes to people and social situations. But when it comes to guessing the amount of items in a jar, or directions, or other things like that, I am totally way off-base.

In middle school my seventh grade teacher would have candy in a jar every month, and we'd get to guess how many of that item was there. Each time the size and shape of the jar would change (in addition to the type of candy), but no matter what, I always off by at least 100. Sometimes I overestimated, and other times I was totally under. And the delusional thing is, each time I would think "This time, I am SO CLOSE. I am totally going to win." I'd be sitting there at my little desk, all full of hope and picturing running home, eating the candy all the way down the street. And maybe sharing with people.

But really, I was never even close. Ever.

The same "way off-base" concept applies to the metro station where I'm living. This stop has about five exits, all quite a few blocks from one another. The closest one to the apartment is five blocks. So if I get off at the furthest exit, it's about a 10 block walk back here. So at the end of the day, when I'm tired and not in the mood for running around lost and cursing my lack of direction, I'm pretty invested in leaving by the right exit.

So as a way to leave by the right exit, I remembered one day that the one I wanted has a circular picture of a dog wearing an astronaut outfit over the archway. Good enough. I mean, how many pictures of ugly dogs are there in a metro station? After a couple of days of leaving by the dog astronaut, and realizing each time when I got outside that I was at the wrong door, I realized two things.

1) There are actually two pictures of ugly space dogs, and I want the one with the black background.


2) My instincts, every single time, lead me to the wrong exit.

I'd get off the train, not know where I was on the platform, and think "okay, which way do I go?" I'd then follow those instincts, and end up at the wrong dog picture. I also have a poor short term memory (much like a parrot, the key for me to remember things is to repeat it over and over), so for a while, I couldn't remember if I wanted the black or gray background. In fact, I'm pretty sure I didn't realize that there are two pictures - I just went with the flow.

So every evening now when I get off the train, I step out of the doors, hesitate, and ask myself:

"why way are my instincts telling me to go?"

And then I immediately head in the opposite direction. And I haven't been wrong yet.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005


my dearest E

E as in my friend, not the drug.

Having a job has been cramping my social life. It some ways it's helped it - I've met some new people, I meet up with friends for dinner occasionally, I'm just out and about and that opens up more contacts. But in one of the ways most important to me, it's really been stinking.

But dear E works the night shift at your friendly national (international?) super brilliant TV station. When I didn't have a job, we talked online all day...and all night. Basically. But now that I can't go on IM at work, and she's gone when I finally get home, and I'm usually in bed when she returns, we never get to talk and shoot the breeze. And that totally stinks. So we catch up when we can, spending little snippets of time together. But really, a snippet of E is not enough.

E, I miss you!!

Saturday, October 15, 2005


So...20 minutes ago?

Tonight we went to the Times and there were TONS of people there. It was so crowded, no one could move, feet were stepped on (most importantly, my left foot), elbows were being thrown. Drinks spilled, people shouting. An absolute mecca to some.

So of course I was outside, trying to avoid it all, and in the meantime striking up a conversation with two guys sitting in the corner. I must have been dazzling, or one of them must have been desperate, because after we had to move back inside (the patio closed at 2) he began some hardcore flirting. Asking me to dance (I turned him down), complimenting me, asking enthusiastically about my rather unspecial shoes.

And lest you all think I was flashing my wares, so to speak, I was wearing flat shoes, a shortish jean skirt (but not indecent), a rather baggy sweater and a collared shirt underneath. Standing in front of the mirror while washing my hands, I realized that I was horribly overclothed. I definitely looked out of place and very nerdy.

After his overtures had been rejected, he noticed that I was standing in a tense position, with my arms crossed up in front of me (because I had just pushed a guy who had stepped on my foot, actually). So, he said, "You look like you could use a massage."

Me, mildly alarmed by this turn, said casually, "oh, I don't know if that would help." He replied "Of course it would!"

One might wonder how I would respond to that. I mean, hi, everyone loves a massage. Just not from random guys at bars.

So, in a flash of evil genius, I replied: "No, I don't know. What if I have deep-seated psychological issues that can't be cured by the sense of touch?"

Unfortunately the thought of deep-seated psychological issues didn't deter him, it just made him want to know more about my traumatic past. I ran off with the excuse that I wanted to "make the rounds," but unfortunately I had to run past him on my way out. He said that I couldn't leave because he still hadn't gotten my number, and me (summoning my courage and heartlessness) said, "No, I don't think it would work out...There's too much of an age difference." he didn't reply. So I babbled "I'm too immature!!"

(says the girl in the sweater and high collar)

And then I said that I'd definitely see him around, because we go to the bar all the time.

Note to self, must change bars.


Thursday, October 13, 2005


my life is a movie. a cliched one.

I'm sorry I've cut down on the daily postings lately - it's a combo of being pretty busy (whether because of work or going di da) and also having the feeling that I won't be able to write what you guys want to hear.

This week has been tough. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Oh, and tonight I went to a Caps (hockey) game with C-Note, her bf and others. One of the others had gotten up to get food, so being at the end of the row, and being a kind and courteous person, I stood up so that she could get by without dropping her arms full of food.

I kind of heard a "hey! hey!" in the background, but being a wild and raucous hockey game, I didn't think much of it. Then I sat down, and a rough and tumble camera man who was five feet away on a platform started yelling at me, saying "HEY! HEY! YOU WERE IN THE WAY! YOUR HEAD BLOCKED MY SHOT! YOU MESSED UP MY SHOT!"

apparently I was channeling Elaine from Seinfeld. This is just absolute proof that I have a ridiculously large head.


Tuesday, October 11, 2005


you know what I mean

"Don't you feel so grown up?" C-note's voice wafted out from the kitchen, cheery and optimistic.

And I had to answer in this whiny, un-grown up like voice, "Umm....not really"

She was surprised, said that I'm going to my real job tomorrow and we're sitting in the apartment and we're just chilling. We are so grown up!

And I don't know, I pictured grown-upness to be totally different. Sure, I'm still in the freshman year of the real world, but it's just not what I pictured, and still find myself imagining occasionally. My picture of this mysterious real world is rather hazy - I think I'm actually conjuring some tampon commercials or something - fit, beautiful girls wearing white pants and sexy yet classy tops and laughing at the bar with handsome, mature gentlemen.

And then I see myself in the mirror and I'm wearing my sweatshirt from senior year of high school and my windpants from freshman year of high school (Okay, I feel kinda psyched that they still fit, but it does have an elastic, so it's not that big of a deal...). And I see my face and that annoying zit that just showed up today, how mature. But then I notice my hair. It's in an elastic, and it's loose and messy, but it looks okay. And my dangly earrings. They're not super mature, but they work. I suddenly feel like a grown up.

And it seems like while I feel like a 12 year old, sometimes I feel like a capable, mature adult at the same time. Sometimes I think that deep down, I feel as though one day I'll wake up and be like "Oh! I am 30! I am ready for this!" As if I'll be a different person, one mindset exchanged during the night for another. But seems like life is about taking steps that you don't feel ready for. Of doing things, and thinking "wow, I totally don't feel like I'm 18/20/22. I can't believe I'm a senior in high school/walking around college/living in an apartment."

Sometimes I feel grownup. Like when I'm on the metro with all the other faceless people, heading back from work. But then sometimes I feel like a kid, like when I sat down today in Dupont Circle and ate a PB & J alone.

But what is "feeling grown up," exactly? Because I just said that I felt grown up when I was feeling all tired and sort of dead inside. Part of the "faceless crowd." And I felt like a kid when I was sitting on a slightly rainy bench, throwing my crusts to the birds.

I think being grown up is finding a mix between the mature and the immature. The practical and the fun. Going to work, but doing your job wearing a hot pink skirt. Getting the coffee, but grabbing a doughnut along with it. Crossing the street, but being goofy enough to help a guy who is sitting in the back of a minivan cab at a crosswalk shut the sliding door because he has his hands full with architecture tubes and his cell phone.

Okay, that really just happened yesterday and I wanted to say it. That's not really related to being grown up and acting like a kid.

on that note...I'm out. Sorry this is so disorganized!

Sunday, October 09, 2005


What's in a home?

A lot of things have been going on, most of them fun and good, but I'm not going to mention them because I want to avoid making this a "let me recap my day!" blog.

Even though today is the fifth day that I've been in D.C., and I worked two days, it still feels as though I'll be going home in a couple of days. I obviously know that's not true, especially seeing as how I've worked two days (therefore already different from my past visits), but I can't get it through to my inner thought processes. I think it's probably similar to re-programming a computer.

For example, E and T's bro is visiting this weekend, and he's returning to his school in Boston on Tuesday. I almost said to him "oh, we should hang out when I get back!" I'd love to hang out with him, but when I was thinking that, I was thinking in terms of "sooner" as opposed to "later."

A part of this feeling probably stems from me not having an apartment yet. For as long as I'm sleeping on E, C-note and T's sofa, I'll still feel like I'm down here on an extended vacation. They are so welcoming - and they are absolutely amazing - but it's a bit of an awkward situation. It will be cool when I live somewhere else, and we can hang out, and most likely have sleepovers, but I won't be taking advantage of their hospitality. I'll be able to give, in addition to my non-stop taking.

I saw an apartment yesterday in Chinatown and I loved it. Loved it. LOVED IT. The location is perfect, right on the line I need for work. Annnd it's only two stops from E & C-note. Not to be a downer, but I probably won't get it, just because that would be too perfect. The two people looking for a roommate seem to be really nice - a girl and a guy, both 23. I met with them yesterday, and they both appear to be (I keep saying "seem" and "appear to be" and like language because I don't know them for sure) responsible, friendly and good roommates.

So, we'll see. Who knows, maybe even I after move into my mysterious new place, I still won't feel at home. Maybe the only place I'll feel at home at is in Braintree, Massachusetts.

And I'm definitely okay with that.

Thursday, October 06, 2005


day 1!

I had my first day of work today! It was wonderful. Quick schedule rundown of my day (since I know everyone is fascinated by the minutaie of my life): I met with Boss, she talked about the magazine and the position and tons of details that I forget, then I talked to my officemates (I share a room with two other people, a guy and a girl. they are very nice and approachable), was shown the very important vending machines and kitchen in the basement...

okay, so I just wrote out the rest of my day, read it and realized that it was boring even ME. The important thing is that they were very nice, I met a lot of people, and only did about a half hour of actual work. The office uses iChat to talk to one another, and it's especially useful because there are two deaf people working somewhere in the building. I was disappointed that no one sent me a hello, though.

While setting up the iChat for me, the IT guy asked if I had AIM. (hahaha if only he knew) I told him yes, and he SET IT UP for me. After my mom and dad talking time and time again about IM use and the office, I was shocked and thinking that this was some kind of sneaky trick. I hesitantly ventured "oh...but do they mind if I use it?" and he said "Ha! not at all!" On that note, Jason, I'm sorry I didn't respond when you IMed me! IT guy was still giving me the Mac tour.

So for a lesser girl, there were two potentially cripplingly embarrassing moments of my day, but I handled them with ease.

During situation one, I was sharing a space with Girl Co-worker because IT guy was sitting at my desk still working on my computer. We were having lunch, and I had my plate on the edge of her desk. I did a fantastic job of being neat, keeping my taquitos on the plate, not dripping sour cream everywhere.

Just as I was mentally patting myself on the back, I put on the cover. And turned the plate over, spilling rice onto my lap and the ground. I passed it off by going "whoops!" then picking it all up. After watching the train wreck that is me, girl co-worker said something that instantly told me that we'd get along just fine.

Her: Are you going to have the rest of your guacamole?
Me: No, but I double dipped, is that okay?
Her: Are you kidding? I don't care!


okay. And to preface the next thing, let's just say that I NEVER DO THIS. I'm practically a fanatic. I never forget.

But this time, I forgot to pull up my zipper. It must have been my hurry to meet my second boss or something, I don't know. Or maybe I was just distracted by the still fresh rice spilling incident.

It was down for approximately five minutes, during which time I saw Girl Coworker, Male Coworker, IT guy, and boss #2. I'm fairly sure that the first three people saw nothing, because there is a pretty good overlap of fabric and zipper. But looking back, I'm imagining them averting their eyes uncomfortably, avoiding looking at me.

Boss # 2 (a woman) DEFINITELY saw, since I realized after I was sitting down. Luckily I'm wearing dorky pink hawaiian flower undies, nothing too skanky. And I noticed about 10 seconds after sitting down, so I recovered fairly fast and pulled my sweater down over the area. And then when we stood up I *casually* held my folder over the problem area and pulled it up.

Very suave. Flash the boss on the first day.

But, my friends. Perhaps I'm so cool about this is because I was witness to one of the most embarrassing things ever right after coming in the door.

There was a girl sitting at the front desk and she clearly isn't the usual secretary. She was wearing jeans (it's not Friday!) and was a little unprofessional - didn't ask my name when I told her that I was there to see my boss. She goes to lead me to the elevator and while we're waiting for the ancient thing to lower itself down the shaft, I'm looking down at the folder she had just handed me. I'm conscious of someone else waiting with us, but I didn't even give the person a glance, I was so wrapped up in my nervousness. All of a sudden I hear something horrible. A horrendous breach of etiquette.

"Oh, are you pregnant?!"

The words left her mouth with such excitement, such stupidity. I looked up, aghast. I swiftly and surreptitiously cast a glance at the "pregnant" woman. She was wearing pink stretch leggings that went to her knees, and this flowery tentlike t-shirt. She definitely looked pregnant, but was OBVIOUSLY NOT.

oh, the horror.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

To be honest, I haven't had many deep thoughts lately, perhaps it's because I've been preoccupied with myself and the things that I'm doing. Self-absorption doesn't allow for much reflection. My thoughts are all just day-to-day stuff, making lists of things that I have to do, then crossing them off. A sample: pack, write thank you letters, open one bank account, close South Shore Savings.

Not exactly the stuff of philosophers and great kings.

The Boston Globe has this Quote of the Day feature...well, every day. Sometimes the quotes are duds - in fact, it seems like nowadays most of the quotes stink. Before they used to really speak to me, and I'd occasionally tear one out and stick it in my journal.

After that grand introduction, here is the quote from today:

"Whenever you fall, pick something up." - Oswald Avery.

Simple, but it says so much. With that one sentence, I picture those times when I feel as though I've fallen flat on my face. I'm lying there, nose in the dust, wallowing in pity. Then I notice something next to me, that I wouldn't have seen if I had strolled along as I had planned. I pick that thing up, put it in my pocket and take it with me.

I love the idea of making something better than how it was, of seeing something when you're down and bringing it up with you to the better place, carrying it with you on your struggle to get there. Sometimes that thing is literal, like finding money underneath the sofa. If you hadn't dropped the clicker, you wouldn't have found that dollar. But other times you gain so much more in experience, like keeping a good point of view, or knowing that even thought you felt like dying or crying, you kept going and you persevered.

From now on, when I'm down, I'll try to take a look around and see what I can take from the experience, instead of just trying to jump up and forget my embarrassment, pain or dismay. I'll pick something up.


just so you know I haven't forgotten about you...

hey guys! sorry, I've been really busy with pre-leaving preparations. There was a family party Sunday, a lot of packing yesterday, then tans and pat came over. I'll try to blog tonight.

Saturday, October 01, 2005


cell woes and ghosts

Today I called E. She picked up, going "heelllooo?" "Hellloooo?" Thinking she was just joking, I responded in kind. However, the joke ended when she hung up. Realizing that something was terribly wrong, I called my house phone. My brother picked up, and he couldn't hear me. In denial, I called it again, and my mom couldn't hear me either.

Entering the stage of acceptance, my mom then used my cell phone to call the house, and I picked up. I could hear nothing from that end, not even static. I was horrified. My cell phone? Not working? That means that no one could call me! I couldn't call anyone! Not like I really get that many phone calls, but I greatly enjoy the ones that I do receive. And with moving in four days (yikes) how would I function without a telephonic device?

Everything is working fine on the phone except for the microphone. It rings, I can get text messages (I think?), I can even answer the phone, but no one can hear me.

I went to TMobile in the plaza, hoping against hope that the neanderthals who operate the booth could help me out. The stellar advice that I was given? "Best thing for you to do would be to steal someone's phone and put your own SIM card in it, heh heh." Thanks. I asked if he's heard of other models doing this, and he said "no, some phones just time out."


I walked back to the car, dejected. As if directly taunting me, some woman yelled over my shoulder to her friend going into a store,


No, no I don't.

Well, sorry to be whiny, because this problem is actually going to be solved rather soon. Er has an extra phone, so I'm going to see if that will work. It probably won't, because she has Verizon and I have TMobile. But still. And as a last resort, I'm going to be taking back the phone that my parents had let my cousin borrow, because we had an extra line on the family plan. (Sorry BoBerrin!!) But until then, if you want to talk to me, call my house phone!

(and fyi, during this whole time, not one person has actually called me to shoot the breeze. So basically, the lack of a working cell phone has not been felt other than in my mind.)

On a random note, Bub, my dad and I watched "MOST HAUNTED" on the travel channel last night. Basically these four people, along with a gazillion cameramen, explored a supposedly haunted mill that is located somewhere in England. I was hoping for swinging chandeliers and splitting floors (what can I say, I'm an optimist) but the most dramatic occurrences were floating orbs and a table that slightly shook on its own accord.

The floating orbs, indicators of ghosts to those in tune to the ghostly world, resembled "specks of dust," according to my dad. And it was very frustrating, because the people would think they saw something rustle in the woods, but the camera was NEVER pointed in that direction. A few times you could hear heavy breathing, but it sounded too much like the cameraman has had a few too many doughnuts and not enough exercise.

At one point, they brought in this cute little dog that visits the mill a lot with its owner. Apparently the dog, once he enters one doorway, takes off up the stairs barking his head off. Clearly proof of supernatural visitors.

Well, the night they decided to tape the dog, he kinda walks in, sniffs around, then sits down. For quite some time. Enter female British narrator "I must confess, we are confused by our calm canine companion."

I was quite disappointed, although pleased with her alliteration. Even though there wasn't much action, I love the whole mob mentality experience of becoming frightened. If I have the travel channel in my new locale, I will definitely be catching the show at 9 on Friday nights. woo!

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