September 2, 2009!
I got back from my SEN/SUN-sational trip to Cali yesterday circa 2 am. I hadn't worked in DAYS. I'm not a lazy person-I have two jobs and though I complain, I do it with flair. But I needed a BREAK. So, in order for me to hit up the left coast to visit my best friend, Ca$h Bird, and westside crew, I had to borrow 28 hours of vacation time. Also known as, I borrowed 4 days of vacation that I didn't have plus took off another day off with the few hours of vaca time that I actually did have. So, I get back yesterday. I could technically have worked considering I got back in the way early am. But instead, I decided to call out. The thought of going back THERE causes me high level of anxieties and I am not into it. I honestly always thought I ENJOYED working but during vacation, I came to the conclusion that I cannot picture myself working...at all...
Ugh.
In my defense however, I was quite tired from the hellish plane ride, change of time and having a solo dance party to Pitbull's ever catchy (and terrible) "Hotel Room Service" when I got home instead of going to bed.
Anyway, day off=success. Really a good time. I'm telling you, not working is definitely the way to go. My amigo Charlie and I rendezvoused without purpose all over NYC per usual, took in the super amazing "Inglorious Basterds" and went to hip hop you don't stop (dance class=0bsessed) and then walked home from dance because really, what's another 4 miles?! Ridiculous. After the walk we decided to hit up the local grocery shop where I purchased my weekly goods circa 12 am. Nuts.
Didn't really sleep too soundly. Working out late equals drinking liquids late which equals me peeing nonstop. At one point I got up and spied a huge-ass centipede gracing my walls. I killed that mother fucker so quick it is seriously unbelievable. Last year it would have taken me literally hours to kill it. I'd spray and freak out and then spray and then freak out and then spray and then feel sick inside, etc. This year, not so much. My killing skills have improved drastically. So good! I got up in the middle of the night and with one fatal SHWOOOP of my winter boots=DEAD. Score! So proud.
After the killing, I checked on my the status of my dying Ipod. Water damage, so lame. Especially considering I had just bought the most adorable Ipod case ever and they stopped selling the Nano 3rd Generation, totally lame. I bought the 4th Generation yesterday because I know that without my music I will seriously put a stye in someone's eye. Still, I had hope for my old guy...Plus, I really wanted to return the new one so as to save some dough. Eh, c'est la vie. Whoa, off subject shocker....
I pep talked myself all the way to work. My could-care-less attitude that stems from just being on vacation and also, really not caring, helped me bear the heat semi-well. My super religious (think: cult!) co-worker and I get to chatting. I tell her how I just got into grad school for counseling but I'm not sure what it is I exactly want to do anymore.
The conversation goes down as followed:
Me: I got into Fordham for counseling but I'm not really sure what I want to do anymore. I sort of want to interior decorate, have my own variety show, teach and event plan. Maybe I should just waitress full time? Ah, I don't know...
SRC: Have you ever wondered why you have so many questions?
Me: Well, I'm very indecisive.
SRC: But will you ever be satisfied, happy?!
Me: I am happy! I am always happy. I just have a lot of random interests. I'm a Gemini afterall.
SRC: You're obviously missing something or else you wouldn't have so many questions. I used to be like you until I found the way.
Me: I'm good, seriously.
SRC: Do you ever think about why we are here on Earth?
Me: Uuugh...
SRC: I'll have to bring you one Saturday (*referencing her church in NEW JERSEY), but only when you're ready. It may not be time for you yet, but don't worry, it'll always be there. One day, one day.
Me: I'm not so sure about that.
SRC: What do you have to lose?
Me: I'm very happy and content with my life. I'm not interested!!!!!
*CHANGE THE SUBJECT*
That whole scene actually went on for a bit longer but I can't remember EVERYTHING. A few moments later I talked about how I love doing crafts with the students especially around the holidays and she said that she is not into the holidays, that's all up to me. Of course she isn't. Also, a few weeks ago, I asked her on a Monday how her weekend was. She lit up, talked about her Saturday aka religious gathering all day and then how she preached on the streets Sunday..."So many people are living lies," she said. "Oh, um, not you though. I don't mean you."
Later on today...I'm at work and one of the school safety shows my co-worker and I an image on her phone of a dog dogging (if you catch my drift...sick) a woman, totally disturbing and I'm so not into this. I'm thinking that it's one of those digital doings but she goes off talking about how women (especially white women in Manhattan) are into crazy shit involving dogs. "Don't you see how all those women have big dogs, no men?!" And then she proceeds to tell me that a woman in Manhattan had been impregnated by a dog some 20 years ago.
Just another day.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Random Cat
August 13, 2009!
I got home from work today and am greeted by Slash who is waiting for me at the door of my apartment. I pet the little fellow and open the door. A RANDOM cat walks out of the bathroom. I roll my eyes. Figures. I look at Slash. His expression was very-are you dead serious meets this is not surprising at all, much like how I felt. I look at Random Cat and go: "Hey man. Can you please go back out through the window?" And he does.
Since then, I have started to SHUT MY WINDOW.
Why was I leaving my window open before? The doorknob to my front door fell off so I had been climbing in and out of my window every day. True story. Also conveniently serves as a Slash door.
I got home from work today and am greeted by Slash who is waiting for me at the door of my apartment. I pet the little fellow and open the door. A RANDOM cat walks out of the bathroom. I roll my eyes. Figures. I look at Slash. His expression was very-are you dead serious meets this is not surprising at all, much like how I felt. I look at Random Cat and go: "Hey man. Can you please go back out through the window?" And he does.
Since then, I have started to SHUT MY WINDOW.
Why was I leaving my window open before? The doorknob to my front door fell off so I had been climbing in and out of my window every day. True story. Also conveniently serves as a Slash door.
Baby Bear
August 6, 2009!
I hardly slept last night. Too much excitement from the circus I suppose (sarcasm...maybe?). Anyway, I wake up after like 2.3 hours of sleep, a legit hot mess, so very out of it. Somehow I make it to the train. Mind you, I have to walk a mile to get there. I keep thinking that this is the longest train ride ever...is this the same train ride?! Is this JUST one day? What day is it?! Sometimes I seriously feel as though someone has drugged me and left my in strange places (aka every day I go to my ridiculous place of employment). Anyhoo, the train stops at Myrtle-Avenue and I get my hustle on, dodging the mother fuckers that simultaneously serve as slugs. In my head I am congratulating myself for being able to function at all. My confidence get the better of me and I am Rocky-style running on a semi-large flight of stairs. Of course I fall UP the stairs. Usually my running up large flights when tired coordination is pretty par, but whatevs, not gonna sweat it. Keep going. I figure that if I keep trucking and don't look behind me it's as if it never happened. Get to work. Sit in a chair, stand up. The chair is wet. What the fuck?! Then I realize that my dress is wet. I am so out of it that I ask my co-worker: "Hey, I'd know it if I peed myself, right?" I mean, I WOULD know and I obviously did NOT pee myself, but then again, what is this??!! And also, how is it that my bag/everything is ALWAYS wet?! Day is typical; semi-boring/semi-terrible. Get home, so excited to have survived. I'm determined to straight chill tonight. I hear this sound coming from my trashcan. Are you kidding?! I have a mouse?! I look at Slash (my cat) and tell him he's fired. Totally unacceptable. I get a random dude off the street to come and take the trash out. I am in no position to do this myself, pretty delirious as is. He kindly obliges, yet there is no mouse in the garbage. The strange sound continues from where the trashcan once was. I am losing it. I ask the gentle soul to please take a look back there and he does. He emerges with something in his hand. I squint, unable to bring myself to fully look head-on. Gleefully, he goes: "It's just a baby bird!" But with his Polish accent I kept thinking he said "baby bear". Thoughts going through my mind: A. Do Polish people refer to mice as baby bears? B. Is there some sort of miniature species of bears that has somehow made it into my home? So, to sum it up, no mice, no bear, live bird, straight chillen out in the corner of my kitchen. Seriously?!
I hardly slept last night. Too much excitement from the circus I suppose (sarcasm...maybe?). Anyway, I wake up after like 2.3 hours of sleep, a legit hot mess, so very out of it. Somehow I make it to the train. Mind you, I have to walk a mile to get there. I keep thinking that this is the longest train ride ever...is this the same train ride?! Is this JUST one day? What day is it?! Sometimes I seriously feel as though someone has drugged me and left my in strange places (aka every day I go to my ridiculous place of employment). Anyhoo, the train stops at Myrtle-Avenue and I get my hustle on, dodging the mother fuckers that simultaneously serve as slugs. In my head I am congratulating myself for being able to function at all. My confidence get the better of me and I am Rocky-style running on a semi-large flight of stairs. Of course I fall UP the stairs. Usually my running up large flights when tired coordination is pretty par, but whatevs, not gonna sweat it. Keep going. I figure that if I keep trucking and don't look behind me it's as if it never happened. Get to work. Sit in a chair, stand up. The chair is wet. What the fuck?! Then I realize that my dress is wet. I am so out of it that I ask my co-worker: "Hey, I'd know it if I peed myself, right?" I mean, I WOULD know and I obviously did NOT pee myself, but then again, what is this??!! And also, how is it that my bag/everything is ALWAYS wet?! Day is typical; semi-boring/semi-terrible. Get home, so excited to have survived. I'm determined to straight chill tonight. I hear this sound coming from my trashcan. Are you kidding?! I have a mouse?! I look at Slash (my cat) and tell him he's fired. Totally unacceptable. I get a random dude off the street to come and take the trash out. I am in no position to do this myself, pretty delirious as is. He kindly obliges, yet there is no mouse in the garbage. The strange sound continues from where the trashcan once was. I am losing it. I ask the gentle soul to please take a look back there and he does. He emerges with something in his hand. I squint, unable to bring myself to fully look head-on. Gleefully, he goes: "It's just a baby bird!" But with his Polish accent I kept thinking he said "baby bear". Thoughts going through my mind: A. Do Polish people refer to mice as baby bears? B. Is there some sort of miniature species of bears that has somehow made it into my home? So, to sum it up, no mice, no bear, live bird, straight chillen out in the corner of my kitchen. Seriously?!
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