Tuesday, November 29, 2005


"every time it rains...I know it's good to be alive"

I awoke and got ready this morning mentally preparing myself for a gray, monsooney day, full of discomfort walking to and fro work. You know how it is, wind whipping the rain under the umbrella, thereby soaking the legs. Getting the hem of your pants all muddy, and the water gradually seeping up to your calves. Stepping around puddles, until you realize the futility of it all, and just step into the oil-slicked, leafy puddle, thinking that you couldn't possibly get any wetter (but then you do, not realizing how dry you had been a moment earlier).

So when I got outside and it wasn't even sprinkling, just a tad windy, I was pleasantly surprised. I walked my usual route, passing NASA, then the police station, then as I was about to navigate around the dumpster, I stopped in my tracks.

That smell.

That wonderful smell. I don't know if I hadn't noticed it before because I usually try to avoid the whole germ infested area, but I got a whiff of my favorite tree/flower. I don't know what it's called, but it's a tree, and it has tiny white leaves/flowers. There are one or two by Hannan Hall, and walking back at night during the four years, I used to occasionaly catch it. Smells sort of like orange blossoms, only that doesn't make sense, since oranges don't grow in D.C. It's like a piece of heaven, floating along the air.

I feel so blessed to have smelled it this morning, now I know to watch for it on my way to work. It's something that is just so wonderful to me that it instantly lifts my mood, no matter how crappy I feel.

Work was fine, same old, although our new issue came in this afternoon, and the cover is brilliant. It's a picture of the sun setting behind cypress trees, and it's so peaceful. The exec editors might not like it because it has purple and pink in it, but whatever. It's beautiful. Then I went to happy hour with some people, and that was a good ole time as well.

I took the metro back, reading a couple pages of Memoirs of a Geisha. The book is very good, by the way. At first I wasn't too into it...but now it's one of those books that I think about even when I'm not reading it. You know how it is, turning the situations around in my head, picturing the setting, even saying the Japanese words in my head. Okiya.

I started marching up the escalator, doing my little faux sprint to pretend that I get exercise, then I got to the top, and stopped in my tracks. My mouth fell open.

In the middle of the courtyard, there's a big fountain. But it's more like a moat, because there is land in the middle of the fountain. Yesterday, when walking back from work, I had noticed some of those white light-up reindeer decorating the edge of the land. I was pleased.

But someone was very busy today. They put up Christmas trees, strings of lights, more reindeer. It was breath-taking. I couldn't believe that there weren't people sitting around it, staring. A girl in front of me bustled along, whipping out her cell phone to call someone named David.

The raindrops were still sparse, but they were becoming fat and the wind was picking up. Perhaps that would normally have irritated me - but it didn't matter tonight.

Suddenly, my commute doesn't seem so ordinary. I can't wait for a) the weather to clear up, so I can sit out there like a lovesick moron, gazing at it, and b) to drag all of my friends to the courtyard.

Sometimes things are so perfect.

Sunday, November 27, 2005


Have you lost weight?

That's one of the questions that always leaves me puzzled. Are people saying it to be nice (it's the 20th century version of "I love your hoop skirt + bonnet!") or are they saying it because they think it's true?

My mom usually says it to me whenever I come home. In fact, the one time she didn't say it, I was like "oh crap...I must look like I've gained a lot of weight. I'm a porker!" She'll say it once right when I get home, but then she'll ask again, later, as if to check up on me, since I brush the initial question off as one of those things.

This past weekend my dad also asked me if I had lost weight, as did one of my aunts.

Well, let me answer once and for all. No, I have not lost any weight. At least, none that I know of. I don't think I've really gained/lost a significant amount of weight/drastically changed shape since high school. Now, don't take that as bragging, because I've always been - well, not fat - but a solid person. In high school, I didn't have a lithe high schooler's body. (Damn that elusive Junior's Section!!) I'm not super strong, but I can lug crap with the best of them, and that includes moving boxes, carrying loads of groceries, shoving my bed (in its box) down the hall, lifting up my cousins to give them hugs/throw them into the pool.

By pulling, pushing, throwing my weight around, I've moved an awful lot of stuff. And for some unknown reason, I'm kind of proud of that.

And while it would be nice to fit into the jeans in the junior's section (yeah, I'm bitter, okay?) I do think that I much prefer my capable "physique," and being able to be described as "like a horse."

Okay, so that was a bit of a blow. But the guy meant it as a compliment. I think.

So, since I've stayed pretty much the same for the past four years, that leads me to one conclusion - that I get fatter in peoples' memories.

Initially that may seem like a bad thing - who wants their features to balloon in the minds of their loved ones as time goes on? But it's definitely a positive, since I haven't actually lost any weight. Therefore, each time I see the person, they think that I'm looking better than the time before...without any output on my part.

Not that bad of a deal.

Thursday, November 24, 2005


*The Blabbing Blog

*what my dad calls my blog, haha

I was about to whine about the pain of coming home in this post, how I had to take plane, train and automobile. But I realized that no matter how I wrote it, it was coming off whiny and spoiled. Because um...it is.

Last weekend, I was that annoying (sober) girl at the bar asking all the employees what their favorite thing of the past week was. Two of them couldn't think of anything. Humph. One guy said that he was happy that he had worked a lot the past two weeks, so now he has a lot of money. I thought that was a nice way to look at not having a social life and getting up early and staying up late. Another guy said that he had gone to Buffalo in the past week, and some girls flashed him. He was still very pleased about that (even though they were fake, he said).

If someone asked me about what made me happy in the past week, I could list a billion things. A lot of them small - like finding that I still hadn't made a packet of rice in the cabinet, so it was an easy dinner on Tuesday. Or having enough change to buy a candy bar in the vending machine at work. So basically, all revolving around food (yup...sounds about right).

And since it's Thanksgiving, I'm sitting here trying to think of unique or clever things to be thankful for. Something that people read, and they go "wow, that's a good one."

But I'm coming up with nothing here. Nothing special, that is. So here's my boring list:

- my family. My immediate, and all the relatives around me. They're amazing. They're funny, fun-loving, responsible, young, old. They're all different. But all so loving.
- my home...an extension of the family. That I have this wonderful house to come home to, in what I think is the perfect town.
- my friends. Both in D.C. and here. I'm very, very lucky to have the friends that I do.
- my faith. I may disagree with the Church on a lot of things and that makes me worry, but one of my friends laid it down for me. He said that most of my issues seem to be with the institution, and not with God. And that's entirely true. God is why I'm here, and why I have what I have.
- my job. I'm very lucky to enjoy my job and to like my co-workers. I have never ever really enjoyed working (at a place of business) so I was quite alarmed about graduating. But then again, I've always had those crappy summertime jobs. But I'm very thankful that I like what I do, and who I'm doing it with.
- awesome quotes. Like stuff from reflectionfortheday.com, or "Just when the caterpillar thought life was over, it turned into a butterfly." or "Whenever you must, you can." And "Man has secret sorrows which the world knows not, and often times we called a man cold when he is only sad."
(that last one is from Longfellow, and I probably misquoted it by a couple of words. but you get the gist.)
- a great book, ones that make me think, ones that make me care about the characters. The Counte of Monte Cristo, Gone With The Wine, Fahrenheit 451, The Giver, Bridget Jones's Diary, The Most Dangerous Game.
- things like amazing sunsets, or flowers. Natural things that make the world beautiful. And I know that's corny, but I love that stuff. A great sunset rarely fails to make me stop and stare.
- great food. Like my mom's apple crisp, The Corner Bakery's pumpkin muffins, turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce, pepsi, my mom's "scrumptious chicken," richardi's chicken cutlet sub, and pineapple fried rice (no shrimp).
- Christmas. CHRISTMAS!!!! The lightly falling snow, Christmas music, the giving of presents (and okay, the getting of presents, I'll admit it), candy canes, cookies, food, the smell of spices, candles, white lights, snowmen, scarves, hats, gloves, little kids their eyes all aglow. Oh Christmas!! The promise of hope and love and goodness for mankind.

Oh, Christmas...

Monday, November 21, 2005



We get The NYTimes at work (don't know how long that's going to last though, because they keep sending invoices that accounting hasn't paid) - anyhow. We get The NYT, and today the front page had a lovely four picture stacked spread of President Bush. It was a shot-by-shot rundown of him walking to the door, trying to open it, making a face, and then turning around after the aide showed him where to go.

I mean, C'MON! That's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Don't get me wrong. I'm an idiot when it comes to politics, so I tend to admire anyone who knows what they're talking about, whether or not I agree with them. I can take dissent. But these pictures weren't about politics, they were about trying to humiliate someone.

Where is the journalistic integrity in that? Aren't there tons of other pictures that would be better served by being on the front page of one of the most read/most seen papers in the nation? In the world?

In fact, I was close to jumping out the window today at work because I was looking for pictures for next month's articles. The topics? "Poverty" "Sadness in Africa" "Rural poverty in America". I saw a picture of a young woman whose lips were cut off by some crazy army in Uganda. I saw a series of pictures of a toddler crying at the side of a road, tugging on his dead father's shoulder.

How dare The New York Times waste so much space on such a stupid, meaningless event? How dare they forget their duty?

Sunday, November 20, 2005


ch ch ch changes

Right now I'm struck by how much the world is constantly changing.

And I don't mean in other countries, or the ebb and flow of politics, or basically any world other than the one that revolves around me and the concerns of my loved ones. As Mark Twain once said, "If you don't like the weather in New England, just wait a few minutes."

I feel like that's my life, and the lives of all the people I know right now. Don't like your life at the moment? Wait 15 minutes, or 15 days, and it's bound to change. My older brother just got a new job - and that's a very exciting change. My little brother just got his license - another exciting change. My friend Lisa got a job that she's been hoping for. Another friend got a preliminary acceptance to his dream school. I know a girl who just met a cool guy. I have friends waiting on jobs, the opposite sex, grades, hopes, dreams.

Around me, everything is changing. The world isn't apathetic, and I dare anyone who says so to just open their eyes. There are people, who, on the surface, they seem to be doing nothing special. Take your bouncer at the bar. Or you know, my favorite bouncer at my favorite bar. You may look at him, and you think "This is his job." Little do you know that his dream is to help the impoverished and disadvantaged - those who feel little hope. And it's not just his dream, he's taking steps to get there. And there are people just like him, working their asses off to make things happen.

So if you don't like your life right now? Plant some seeds, work hard, and watch for the results in just a few minutes.

Friday, November 18, 2005


It's been a few days

My room has progressed in leaps and bounds the past couple of days. And on that note, Mike B (C-note's bf) is my hero. He came over for dinner Weds night, and earlier in the week C-note had joked with him, asking him to put together the bed.

Apparently he was cool with it, and for two hours on Wednesday night we could hear hammering and putting stuff together. Because of Mike, I HAVE A BED!!

And speaking of C-note, she is the reason I got the said bed. We crammed the dbl frame into her Focus, and had a slightly nervous trip from College Park to D.C., because we had to leave the trunk open and tie down the latch. She was especially careful about the bumps, but I didn't feel the bed shift at all.

Supposedly the bed was "Really easy to put together, takes 5 minutes" - according to the IKEA man - but I know that I could not have done it myself. No way in heck.

SO, FOR THAT: C-note and Mike B. are the STAR COUPLE OF THE MONTH!!

Yesterday I took a couple of hours and put together the nightstand. It looks awesome, except that the cabinet door is pretty much swinging off the hinges. I put together the $10 dresser tonight, and it's absolutely perfect except that I put the top on backwards, so the unfinished side is facing the front. I think they lend to the room an especially homey feel. Kind of like leather jackets, how if there are marks on it, it's only a sign that it is an original work.

I'm thrilled that it's the weekend. I'm planning on sleeping in tomorrow - and by that I mean 10:30 or 11. I just want to wake up, feel rested, and lie there, staring into space for about 20 minutes. Relishing my soft pillows and the way that my head sinks right into them. Loving the color and warmth of my blanket.

At work I have a Jack Vettriano painting as my background (The Singing Butler). While scrolling through JV pictures on the Internet, I was seized by this burning desire, an idea that I hadn't had before. I thought "Someday...I WILL own a real Jack Vettriano painting."

The moment the thought filtered through my brain, it gave me alarm. I want one of his paintings, and while they're cheap for amazing, famous person artwork, one could definitely buy a house for the price. What is the purpose of owning an original painting?

Is it truly that much better than a reproduction? Is it an investment? A really strong case of materialism? Is it a way of showing off to people?

Or perhaps it's idol worship - the idea of owning something that a great master created. Of being a part of, of owning a piece of history.

I don't know. But all I know is that when I go home next week for Thanksgiving, I'm going to be bringing back my two pictures, buying frames, and hanging them up in my room.

And for those of you who aren't familiar with his work, or want to know more, here is a link.


I not only love his style, but also the topics he paints about. Love, lust, loss longing. (today is apparently sponsored by the letter "l") I technically don't have a favorite, but for happy/love prints, I love "Something in the Air", "Waltzers", "Back Where you Belong" and "The Singing Butler". In terms of sadness/longing, I love "Cocktails and Broken Hearts", "Thoughts of You"...and there's one that I can't find the name. It's a picture of a house on a still lake, and the bottom is dark, but the sky is still a blue. There's a light on by the front door...and it's just very eery.**

I bought it a couple of years ago at the poster sale. When ringing it up, the guy at the register said, "Oh, so you found it!" I was puzzled, since I hadn't exactly been looking for it - I had never seen it before - but I said "yeah!" just because I didn't want to make waves.

He sensed my confusion, and said "You came here yesterday and asked for it. You described it to me, right?" I said no...and he looked really weirded out, and said that he was sure it happened, but that it must have been a dream.

I don't think it was a pick up line, since he didn't ask for my number or did anything like that. And we parted a bit unnerved.

So there, that's my Jack Vettriano story. Since that acquisition, I've been obsessed and mesmerized by his works.

** Post note 11/25/05: I'm home now, and looking at the poster, I see that at the bottom it says in fairly large letters "Rene Magritte" - so...uh...that's why I couldn't find it in the Jack Vettriano collection. I should have known, since it seems like all of Vettriano's paintings have people in them, and this one is just of a house. oh well.

Monday, November 14, 2005


We Bounce

One thing I love about E and I is that we bounce back. We're optimists when it comes to boys and relationships. (C-note is included in this category as well, but since she has a bf, she's an inspiration at the moment, as opposed to a partner in crime.)

We meet a new guy, we give it our all, he's not interested, we receive a momentary blow, and then we're up and at 'em the next day, looking for the guy who will think that we're all that and a side of chips. And 100% amazing.

Now, don't get me wrong. We give the real things the emotions and attention that they deserve. Our hearts get devastated. We cry the tears. But if it's a quick flirtation, a text message here, some witty repertoire there...we get over it quick.

That might alarm some guys, say if we flirt with their friend...and then go to them. Or if we, you know, flirt with one of their co-workers, and then go to them. It doesn't mean that you're Plan B. You're Plan A, in a long string of Plan A's that failed, and led us to you.

And on that note, since when did text messaging become the sign of "coming on too strong"? A couple of weeks ago, I met this person, and it was just nice to meet someone new, who is nice. I sent him a text message the next day. Not like "will you marry me?!?!" but a hello. Z, my advisor of game, informed me that that was a major faux pas.

I'm sorry, but if you're going to get creeped out by a text message, I don't even want to be your friend, never mind try to be your girlfriend. I accidentally do a lot of awkward, silly things on a daily basis. (plug for elle's blog - elleobeirne33@blogspot.com) You would feel too uncomfortable being my friend if a text message unnerves you.

So here's the deal. When E and I do one of the following things:

-say hello
-add you as a facebook friend
-e-mail you
-text message you
-call you

Don't freak out. Don't take it as "oh, we want to marry you." Don't be all like "oh my God. They're such stalkers." Don't flatter yourself.

We're friendly people. Both of us right now are at this stage where we want to meet tons of people, make lots of friends, etc. Sure, we're open to relationships. But please don't think we're falling in love, fast.

Sunday, November 13, 2005



I walked to the Mall today for a little quiet time. After seeing an exhibit at the Hirshhorn, I went outside and saw a bunch of scattered debris, surrounded by police tape. The things on the ground were black and mechanical and rather large, and clearly from some sort of aircraft. There was also a news truck around - I didn't know the channel, but I figured it was some obscure crappy local cable news thing.

I could see signs posted on a barrier, so I walked over to check things out, expecting to see an explanation about this new exhibit, or perhaps read some exhortations made by some crazy demonstrators.

Instead, there were signs memorializing the space shuttle "Patriot" and its crew. They were touching handmade posters, saying that people will never forget the day. There were also batches of flowers at the foot of the barriers.

I looked around, befuddled. What the hell? Did something happen? Further alarming me, when I turned around, I saw that a fairly bad car wreck had occurred earlier - a small Nissan thing had plowed into another car, totalling the Nissan. The people were gone, but the cars had yet to be towed.

I was wracking my brain for some Patriot disaster, but I couldn't think of any. I wondered if, possibly, some horrible thing had happened on the Mall yesterday and I hadn't heard about it. Which was frighteningly entirely possible - I don't think I read the paper yesterday, watched the news, or listened to the radio.

A man was hanging up posters, and while I didn't want to appear to be totally uninformed (or you know, reveal that I was totally uninformed) I asked him what was going on, prefacing it with "Apparently I've been living under a rock...?"

Perhaps sensing my anxiety, he helpfully explained that they would be filming a movie there later today, and that all that stuff was part of the set. Including the cars over there? I asked. Including the car, he said. And he added that Nicole Kidman was starring in the movie.

I had received all the info I needed, so I went over and sat down by a tree to read. It was just a movie.

But some odd reason, the feeling of simmering panic, of unease, has stuck with me. Was it because I didn't know what was going on? Or was it because it's not that absurd to think that something had gone on, and I didn't know about it?

It's just a movie. But the set was just real enough to give me pause.

Friday, November 11, 2005


Sweet like a kiss, sharp like a razor blade

Once frozen, does yogurt lose its "good for you" bacteria? On Monday I was taking a yogurt out of the fridge for my lunch (don't be too proud of me, I also grabbed a pepsi, brownie(s) and some tootie roll pops), and the stupid thing was frozen. I had stacked them in the back of the fridge, and apparently it's really really cold back there.

So, doing the elementary thing, I put all of them in the little vegetable drawer. And they defrosted.

But I just had one, and it must have been one of the previously frozen ones, because its consistency was that of cottage cheese.

Sunday E and I went on a lovely tour of Georgetown with Liam. Neither of us had been to the school, so it was neat to walk around and pretend we're students, drinking stuff at their coffee shop. We even got the full library tour (and they actually have my magazine!!). And we felt right at home, stalking random guys.

After saying goodbye to Liam, E and I decided to go to CVS in Dupont Circle. After getting lost and turned around about three times (not too shabby) we end up on a side street close to our destination. This being a city, one of the only spots to park was in between two cars.

AKA Parallel Parking.

AKA always a trip.

So E gave the first go, and we were in between the two cars, but about four feet from the curb. So she tried again, same result. She asked me to help, and I was all bravado, but on the inside, well...this is the girl who only got her license on the provision that she promised to work on her parallel parking.

I hope that State Trooper isn't reading this blog, because I definitely did not keep my promise.

So I got in the driver's seat, E got in the "curb director" position. I swooped in, and landed four feet from the curb. Lovely. Then E got the great idea that I should just pull into the spot (since it was probably at least one and 1/2 car lengths) but that didn't work either.

At this point, E decided that she'd try again, and I'd be curb director. A few more failed tries (but at least we hadn't hit anything - a notable feat for the both of us) and we had an audience of two guys at this point. I had said "Hey, can you parallel park?" and one of the guys was going to give it a try. But for some craaazzzy reason, E isn't cool with random guys driving her car.

I decided to give it one more go. I was totally confident after seeing the huge space. So I get in, E got out, I pull up next to the car in front of us, and BAM

I parked.

(no, I didn't hit anything)

And as I was doing those little "backing up moving forward" adjustments, the people who owned the car in front of us....came out, got in their car, and left, making our spot a good...oh....20 feet long?

Now our new "parallel parking in the city" strategy is just to wait it out until people come and move their cars.


Ever have one of those days where you feel like this?


I've totally lost all sense of cohesiveness.

(I've decided that I write better in the mornings. It's now midnight, FYI.)

Guess whose air mattress days are numbered?!

MINE! I officially paid off the mattress today, and they are delivering it Saturday. During the transaction we hit a slight roadbump...aka they rejected my check since either a) it's a new account or b) my check was a low number (the kindly man who tore up my dreams of a good night's sleep reassured me that I didn't have bad credit. Mattress Discounters just hates newbies).

I almost pulled a UPS move and started crying, but the tears didn't make another pitiful appearance. Thank goodness. Sadly, I think I'm used to getting checks denied now. Resigned to my fate of being doomed to another week of inflatable fun, I called my mom...yes, my mom, and she told me that I should try to take money out of the ATM.

(I didn't think that my check was cleared, that's why I hadn't thought of going to the ATM. Usually I'm a very astute problem solver, I assure you.)

Let's just say that I didn't stop on my way from the ATM to MD, for fear of being robbed. And funny story, someone was actually robbed around the same time I was walking by there, because when I went into a nearby store a few minutes later, the clerks were talking about it.

So it was by the Grace of God that I am getting a mattress Saturday.

At any rate. Enough about that.

I don't have work tomorrow. And while I'm absolutely, positively thrilled about that, part of me feels guilty for profiting off veterans. Like, hi, these people went to war and fought for our country, and all I can think of is getting some extra Zs?

I might go to Arlington tomorrow to pay a little tribute. Now, that's not to say that I'm going for sure, so don't go all thinking that I'm making you look bad for not going, but it's a possibility.

And Arlington on Veteran's Day is the hotspot. It's like...an Irish bar on St. Patrick's day. The tree on Christmas. Random houses on Halloween. So I would be remiss not to go.

And hey, if you're reading this (now doesn't this placement make it seem like I'm talking to a veteran? I'm totally not.), I miss you terribly. I hope you're doing well. I talked to my boss, and she totally said you can talk to her if you get into her alma mater. AND she knows someone at the State Dept who majored in what you might want to major in. How's that for good news?

If you guys have the day off tomorrow, enjoy it! But during your day of fun and laziness and simple pleasures, think of the favorite Veteran in your life.

My fav? My Grandpa - lost his hearing in tanks during the Korean War - while stationed in Germany. Ain't that a kick in the head.

My other fav? My Great Uncle (my grandma's bro) - died when he was 18 in a sub during WWII, MIA. I saw an old man at the airport a couple of weeks ago, he was going to a WWII submarine reunion. Looking at him in his wheelchair, flanked by his pill bottles, attended to by his wife, I couldn't help but think that my great uncle would have been around his age. And sadly wondered what his life would have been like. All I know of him is a handful of memories, his handsome picture and his purple heart.

Hugs all around.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


I love the old guys in this city!

*As I'm taking an old bandaid off a blister and putting on a new one...on the sidewalk*
Older guy walks by, gives me a look
Me: I'm sorry, I know this ranks on your top 10 things to see today.
he laughs, walks away, then RUNS BACK and says
old guy1: Oh yes, but for some people here, this would rank in their top three!

*E and I are walking, and a random man on a Segway almost hits us, then he's followed by his fellow (in control) tour companions*
Olderguy2: Hey! Sorry - He's drunk!!

*I'm on the metro, and for the past two days I've seen this older guy who wears awesome clothes. Both days it was a gray suit, one day there was a red pattern shirt, and then next day it was a purple one, both with that triangle thing in the pocket*
Me: Hey! I really like your clothes
Old guy3 makes a dubious face
Me (excitedly): You wore red yesterday, right?...not to um...scare you or anything...
Old guy3: *thinks* Yes, Yes I did. Thank you!
He walks out the door, says as he passes me
Old guy3: I don't scare easily :-)

And on that note, I slept too late to take a shower, and now I have to get dressed. bye!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005


As Jacob once said...this is a blog about nothing.

So I spend free moments of my day thinking of things to write in here. I'll craft sentences in my head, mentally writing and re-writing different phrases so that they sound just right. I'll think of it when I'm in the shower, but only if I've already figured out what I'm going to wear. I'll think of it while I'm going to and fro work. I'll possibly even think of it when I'm sitting on my lunch break, avoiding eye contact with sketchy looking people in the Circle.

But when it comes down to actually writing? I'm such a slacker. The evening rolls around, and after being at the computer all day for work, and then coming back here and doing my fun little internet things, like reading random blogs, checking up on people on facebook, I can barely summon the energy to type a few lines, nevermind stitch together some coherent sentences.

The Internet is such an energy and time waster.

(and as if to prove my point, I had to type the above sentence twice because I accidentally highlighted and deleted it the first time.)

Not like I found the cure for cancer or anything while I didn't have access for two weeks - in fact, I didn't do much of anything productive, other than read a mediocre book (The Secret Life of Bees. It was okay.) and clean one night. Who knows where the rest of the time went?

But, thinking about it, it's not the Internet that is the time waster. It's totally me. For example, during my school career, I'd occasionally get a project that was just so inspiring, and I was extremely excited about it. When I was in middle school, I'd walk home, lost in my grand plans for the A+. In high school, I'd chat excitedly with my mom on the drive home, detailing my...grand plans for the A+. And then in college? I was a bit more realistic then and knew of my procrastinating tendencies, but I'd still hope that I'd change.

So the Internet is kinda like that. I'll go on it with these fantastic (okay, so-so) plans. For example, tonight I was going to go on the IKEA website to check out their bed selection, find a DC adult volleyball team and help with the evites for our party this weekend.

Well...I looked at the beds on ikea.com. So that's kind a bust. The volleyball team can wait another day, right?

I just started Farenheit 451 on the metro this morning. Other than some weird moments where I feel like Bradbury was on drugs when he was writing it, it's pretty good. Very promising. Wearing the green pom pom hat that Tans gave me (even though Eric the security guard/my fashion consultant told me it wasn't cold enough for it), I felt very uber dorky cool. Like, "Look at me, I'm reading a weird book AND wearing an unconventional hat. And I'm secure."

oooh, the bottom of someone's car just scraped the ground outside. What an unpleasant noise.

Anyhow, there was a good quote in the book that described how I feel when I'm torn by two conflicting desires. Here it is:

"He felt his body divide itself into a hotness and a coldness, a softness and a hardness, a trembling and a not trembling, the two halves grinding upon the other."

okay, so maybe that's a bit dramatic. But I like the imagery.

and on the last of the random list..our apartment is once again a sauna. For a couple of days it's been almost chilly when I've woken up, but now the neon palm tree doesn't feel that out of place. Guess it's time to (temporarily) retire the fleece.

Monday, November 07, 2005


I'm hooked on a feeling

5, 4, 3, 2, 1....Kiss Me at Midnight!

Riding back from work today, I kept alternating between a straight face and a loony smile. Anyone seeing me struggling for seriousness may have thought, "Wow, she must have a great guy" or "she must have rocked that big presentation today."

Oh no my friends, it's something much simpler. I just listen to really embarrassing songs on my ipod. Songs that if other people could hear, they would laugh at me (and that's part of the pleasure). Leaving work I was in a neutral mood, focused on doing the whole commute thing. When "All by Myself" shuffled onto the scene, I let it be and was transported elsewhere. Listening to Jamie O'Neal's over-inflated pity party, I pictured Bridget Jones sitting on her sofa, an empty bottle of wine. Then I pictured me in a couple of hours, sitting in front of the TV, eating a stinky dinner, belting out my sorrows, with no one to hear but the crying babies next door.

But the "Getting into the music" feeling was transient and remained on the inside, the outside world had no idea what was playing in my ears. Then I heard the opening bars of "Holding out for a Hero" (the Shrek 2) and I knew that I was in for trouble. By the time "somewhere after midnight, in my wiilllldest fantasy" played, I was so tempted to just start dancing and prancing away. Instead I settled for speed walking up the escalator - it was a poor substitute. And when "If you Can't Dance" by the Spice Girls began, my neutral mood was entirely vanquished, I was the sixth undiscovered member of the British sensation.

My mood showed in my walk, I was clearly saying to the world "IF you can't dance, if you can't dance, if you can't dance to this, you can't do NOTHING for me baby." And one of these days, I'm not going to be able to help it, and I am going to make a fool out of myself.

Okay. I'm talking as if I haven't started singing along to my headphones. But that was just once, and it was like, 2 am, so no one was around. And it was a touching medley. And if anyone was listening, they would have been touched, and not amused. okay?!

*20 minutes later*

I've been making a "goofy commute" playlist, and this is going to be very dangerous to my cool, smooth professional image. A sampling: "hooked on a feeling" (neil diamond? really") "In His Kiss" by Cher, "Bananaphone" by Raffi, "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston, and "Just Died in Your Arms Tonight" by Journey.

Oh, and not to abruptly switch gears or anything, but just in case you are ever wondering what those red lights on the top of the Washington Monument look like from the inside (because you know you are), here you go!

and here's the view looking on to the Capitol...you can actually see our church and apartment building (kinda) in this picture.

Thursday, November 03, 2005


Flashback City

Here I am...at The Tower....Yes, at The Tower. Looking at my reflection in the shiny window, thinking "what the hell am I going to write?"

Of course, this time it's for fun and 5,000 people won't be reading it, but I'm feeling the same type of stress. I think it's because I just made a student loan payment, but I couldn't remember my ID, so I had to call Sallie Mae, and they re-routed me to India or something, and I was on hold for eight minutes and the whole time I was thinking "MY MINUTEESSSS! MY MINUTESSSS!!!"

And I also forgot my Gap credit card (seemed like a good idea at the time?) so I can't pay that off. Or even access my account. I have no idea when that payment is due. Here's hoping that it's 30 days after the purchase. But even then, I'm halfway through to that guillotine date.

And Verizon hasn't charged me for my phone! Ah! And I have to buy a mattress! Ah!

Happily (luckily, thankfully, fortuitously) I'm getting paid Thursday (yes, as in a week from today). So then I'll be living high on the hog again, until the next time when I'm counting my pennies and my minutes.

(you think I'd learn my lesson? ehhh.)

I'm sorry for whining. Especially after such a long break.

So last Thursday I went up the escalator at my metro stop, and I noticed a new ad hanging on the wall. It was this beautiful blue, so it caught my eye. And there was the back of a bald head. Which is ugly.

And then in white print, across the beautiful blue, it says "Trust your instincts."

I shit you not. Right after I wrote an entry about how I need to go against my instincts to leave by the right exit, a sign goes up that says "trust your instincts." I took a picture, and once my computer is back online, I'll post it in here.

Last night C-note and I were dragging groceries from her beautiful car to the elevator to the apartment, and a nice young man got in the elevator with us, surrounded by our sea of bags (well, to be truthful, I had about 15 bags, court had about 2). When getting off, he started talking to us, and introduced himself. Stunned that someone our age lived on our floor, we were psyched, and found out what his apartment number is.

Little did he know that we'd be knocking on his door 25 minutes later, inviting him and his roommates to have tacos with us.

Chef C-note prepared yet another wonderful meal while I ran around trying to clean up. Our apartment isn't thaaatttt bad, but when we had knocked on neighbor's door, we saw how fantastic his was. They had framed pictures, a tapestry, a cool liquor thingy, etc. We have a beer pong table, a lovely neon palm tree and plaid sofas. All nice things, but suddenly we felt apartment envy.

At any rate. The guys brought with them a bottle of wine, so we opened it up (after one of them had to go back to his apartment and get the corkscrew) and drank away. The food was great, and I brought out the halloween candy and we (okay, maybe just me) feasted on Reese's.

So that was fun. And random. Yay for new friends!

And the other night E and I stayed up late, chatting away. It started out with stuff like "SO....BOYS!!" and then ended up with me resolving to start a new religion. Today in church I decided that it would be called "American Roman Catholicism". While asking E all these questions, like the ranking of sins and if we're cannibals since we believe that we eat the Body of Christ, she got up, and said "Meg, I think you'll find a lot of answers to your questions in here," and pulled out the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Well, unfortunately they don't deal with our questions, so I'm going to have to ask a priest. Fr. Beal, you can be expecting an e-mail sometime soon!

Oh, and in other good news, I'm now in the room! I've moved from the couch to the air bed. The room is so nice, I can't wait to accessorize! (does buying a bed and lamps count as accessorizing, or is that too basic?)

And on that note, I should head out. I've been taking advantage of the Tower's hospitality long enough, and I think the Krispy Kremes that I brought are almost gone.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


gr blogspot.

um hi. Blogspot is malfunctioning. The apartment internet is broken. I need a new phone.

(I just wrote a nicer post, and supposedly it worked, but then it didn't show up in my blog. So I apologize if this is superfluous)

I'm aiming to go to CUA this week to write some entries.

Yeah, I'm that addicted/dedicated.


surreptitious posting

you guys are probably all like "sure she tells us to comment, and then she leaves us high and dry. she really IS an attention whore!"

I'm posting from behind enemy lines - the internet is down in the apartment. My phone is also broken, so you can imagine how adrift I'm feeling.

I'm getting a new phone today, and I'll try to e-mail the new number to people this afternoon. (because I get soooo many calls. La di da!) It's looking right now that the internet won't be fixed until Monday. A week from yesterday.


I'll probably go to CUA sometime this week after work to make a real post. Probably tomorrow. Would be today, but I got stuff to do. Now that this outlet has been blocked, I'm full of ideas and dying to spread the good word of meg throughout the world wide web.

Until we meet again!

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