At approximately 7:09pm I ordered a Chocolate Steamed Nirvana from Dunn Brother's. Sadly, the "secret combination of coffee extract, chocolate and hazelnut with steamed milk and cream" not only burnt my tongue but also tasted burnt. I forget that I don't really care for Dunn Bros. I'll spare you the details of why I went there to begin with and will fast-forward to the point of this post.
It's now 2:40am and I'm wired. I mean, totally, completely awake. Certainly if I crawled into bed I'd eventually start fading into sleep, but I fear that it'll just be that foggy space that isn't awake but isn't yet sleeping either. Lingering in that space for too long wears me out more than if I only got three hours of good sleep so here I am, still up. And it's not only the caffeine that's keeping me up, but it's also the icky tummy ache I have going on too because not only did I have that medium coffee bevvie, but I also ate a sandwich fully loaded with banana peppers and Italian dressing which both give me heartburn. I know better than to put this crap in my body, but it tastes so good (with the exception of the Dunn Bros coffee, as previously mentioned...other coffee shops serve delicious drinks).
Earlier this week I decided that I was going to cut back on my coffee intake. It really hasn't been too helpful lately. If I have coffee in the morning, with or without the accompaniment of some breakfast, I end-up crashing before 2pm. When this occurs I need to either A: get more coffee or B: get a whole bunch of sugar into my system; both options make me crash by 7pm. It's an unfun cycle that I haven't quite gotten around to breaking, except I have stopped having coffee in the mornings. Lately I've been getting coffee in the evenings while I vainly take pictures of myself on Photo Booth while sitting in a coffee shop hoping that some cute girl will notice me and come over and introduce herself. Okay, I thought I wasn't really going to mention how I ended-up at Dunn Bros, oh well.
The odd amount of energy I have right now is utterly frustrating as tomorrow I'm planning on cleaning and re-arranging my room. I have so much fake fuel in me right now that I could have the whole thing done in about a half an hour and will be tired enough to fall quickly asleep, but as it's nearing 3am, I'm sure my housemates wouldn't appreciate me making a bunch of racket as I move stuff around my room. I'll wait until tomorrow then.
So what else is there for me to do? Blog until I have nothing left to say? Take more Photo Booth pictures? Upload more pictures to Facebook? Start chatting with friends who live on the other side of the globe who are awake at decent hours in their country? Or, mark this moment as the crucial point at which I realized that coffee and me don't mix well and vow to cut it out?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Thoughts: Keeping in Touch
Silence can be one of the most uncomfortable things for humans. It's strange, unusual, not something that we're used to in the world we now live in. If you walk for more than two city blocks in the afternoon, I bet you hear people talking to each other or they're on cell phones. If they're not talking, they've got earbuds crammed in their ears and they're drowning out the world with their new favorite songs.
I too find silence strange, but I embrace it. I enjoy it.
When I first moved into this house, I was having a really hard time breathing in my room, especially at night. I started to then realize just how dusty my room gets and there's no air circulation in here either. My mom had an air purifier that she wasn't using anymore and she gave it to me. Ever since the moment I plugged the thing in, it's been whirring away and I've seen a significant difference. There were two things about the purifier that I didn't enjoy. The first was that it's not silent by any means. In fact, it makes quite a racket. The second thing that I didn't like, and the reason why I turned it off for the first time tonight, is that it acts almost like a fan, sending a bit of cool air into the room.
It's already freezing in this room as it is, and I didn't want any extra chilliness in here so I turned it off and was immediately stunned by how quiet my room is when it is turned off. I can hear the fabric of my hood gently rustle when I turn my head to either side. I can hear the clicks on my keyboard but I'm partially convinced that now I can hear my keystrokes, I'm making a much more profound punch on each key.
But, when I sit perfectly still, the thing I hear most loud and clear is myself, my thoughts, me.
Think about all the things you do to busy yourself, how many ways you have of keeping in touch with people, how to stay informed with what your friends from high school are doing or what your sister's new cat's name is going to be. It is wonderful to have so many technologies that make it easier to stay in touch with others, though I doubt you have as many ways of keeping in touch with yourself.
You are the only thing you have your whole life. Your body, your mind and your soul. Don't simply get used to what you have, transform yourself into the best you you can be! Take time to listen to what you need. Unplug the things what whir and blow cold air.
Relax and examine yourself in silence.
I too find silence strange, but I embrace it. I enjoy it.
When I first moved into this house, I was having a really hard time breathing in my room, especially at night. I started to then realize just how dusty my room gets and there's no air circulation in here either. My mom had an air purifier that she wasn't using anymore and she gave it to me. Ever since the moment I plugged the thing in, it's been whirring away and I've seen a significant difference. There were two things about the purifier that I didn't enjoy. The first was that it's not silent by any means. In fact, it makes quite a racket. The second thing that I didn't like, and the reason why I turned it off for the first time tonight, is that it acts almost like a fan, sending a bit of cool air into the room.
It's already freezing in this room as it is, and I didn't want any extra chilliness in here so I turned it off and was immediately stunned by how quiet my room is when it is turned off. I can hear the fabric of my hood gently rustle when I turn my head to either side. I can hear the clicks on my keyboard but I'm partially convinced that now I can hear my keystrokes, I'm making a much more profound punch on each key.
But, when I sit perfectly still, the thing I hear most loud and clear is myself, my thoughts, me.
Think about all the things you do to busy yourself, how many ways you have of keeping in touch with people, how to stay informed with what your friends from high school are doing or what your sister's new cat's name is going to be. It is wonderful to have so many technologies that make it easier to stay in touch with others, though I doubt you have as many ways of keeping in touch with yourself.
You are the only thing you have your whole life. Your body, your mind and your soul. Don't simply get used to what you have, transform yourself into the best you you can be! Take time to listen to what you need. Unplug the things what whir and blow cold air.
Relax and examine yourself in silence.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Vow
I'm a romantic person. I am also thoughtful. Sometimes what could be considered romantic gestures become cliche. Take for example: giving a bouquet of flowers. Now it's done all the time. Flowers are a kind gesture of thanks, condolences, etc, but it's no longer really all that romantic. They are however, thoughtful if given with a specific message or reason, or on an occasion that normally wouldn't warrant such a gift. Give me a few minutes and I shall calculate how many of these out-of-the-norm moments I've given someone flowers. Ah, yes. Seven. Each bundle beautiful and unexpected.
After the very last time I had flowers delivered to someone, I vowed that I'd never give flowers as a gift again. A portion of this thoughts that lead to this decision dealt with the devastation I was dealing with but also, it was during a time when I started paying more attention to my carbon footprint.
Do you ever think about the carbon footprint of sending a bouquet of flowers to someone? Think about it. The flowers are first grown somewhere in South America or Africa. I would imagine various pesticides and other chemicals would be deemed necessary to keep the flowers growing their best. So at the start, you have chemically infested blooming buds. These flowers are then trimmed and sent somewhere where they can be arranged or wrapped for delivery to a flower shop. So the flowers fly to Minnesota where they are placed in a cooler inside of a flower shop. The florist then spends time designing the arrangement you've requested and wraps it up for safe delivery by car or van to your sweetie's place of residence. It doesn't stop there. Once the life of her flowers have left, she'll certainly toss them into her non-biodegradable plastic garbage sack that'll she'll bring out next Monday morning. From there, the garbage bag will be loaded into a truck that will drive around the city collecting other bags of trash just to end up at a landfill where it will take literally years for the bags to break down, therefore taking up an unnecessarily immense amount of space.
I don't have exact figures or calculations of just how much of an impact sending flowers is, but I think from the previous paragraph, you should have a fair idea that sending flowers isn't just a simple sweet gesture. And if for some reason you do still think that way, then you might just as well stop reading this right now.
So my vow was to never again get or send flowers for someone. I did decide that any wildflowers I might come across, I'd gladly snip a few and after they've lost their life, I'd set them in my compost pile in my backyard.
Valentine's Day is coming up and I can't stop thinking about the amount of money and resources get wasted on such a commercialized day when probably over two thirds of the world's population either doesn't want to have anything reminding them of their loneliness or they don't have the privilege of sending their sweetheart a dozen roses that cost over $80.
Some people I know say that they don't like thinking about how their actions have an impact on everything around them; they say that it's too depressing to think about all the things they're doing "wrong" and all the things that they'll no longer be able to do if they focus on reducing their carbon footprints. Well, to be honest, I think that's very selfish but also completely inaccurate. Sure, there's an adjustment period, but once you've gotten past that, you start feeling proud of the impact you're making.
Acrush friend of mine is in a play next month. Though I'm sure some of her fans/friends will be waiting for her with flowers after the show, I have just enough time to learn how to make origami flowers to give her after her amazing performance. Still thoughtful and slightly less cliche. And what's more romantic than someone taking time to create something just for you?
UPDATE (February 26th, 2010):
My not-review of the play has been posted.
No origami flowers were made.
I am using some of my tactics on "How to Stop Liking Someone" and they're working.
After the very last time I had flowers delivered to someone, I vowed that I'd never give flowers as a gift again. A portion of this thoughts that lead to this decision dealt with the devastation I was dealing with but also, it was during a time when I started paying more attention to my carbon footprint.
Do you ever think about the carbon footprint of sending a bouquet of flowers to someone? Think about it. The flowers are first grown somewhere in South America or Africa. I would imagine various pesticides and other chemicals would be deemed necessary to keep the flowers growing their best. So at the start, you have chemically infested blooming buds. These flowers are then trimmed and sent somewhere where they can be arranged or wrapped for delivery to a flower shop. So the flowers fly to Minnesota where they are placed in a cooler inside of a flower shop. The florist then spends time designing the arrangement you've requested and wraps it up for safe delivery by car or van to your sweetie's place of residence. It doesn't stop there. Once the life of her flowers have left, she'll certainly toss them into her non-biodegradable plastic garbage sack that'll she'll bring out next Monday morning. From there, the garbage bag will be loaded into a truck that will drive around the city collecting other bags of trash just to end up at a landfill where it will take literally years for the bags to break down, therefore taking up an unnecessarily immense amount of space.
I don't have exact figures or calculations of just how much of an impact sending flowers is, but I think from the previous paragraph, you should have a fair idea that sending flowers isn't just a simple sweet gesture. And if for some reason you do still think that way, then you might just as well stop reading this right now.
So my vow was to never again get or send flowers for someone. I did decide that any wildflowers I might come across, I'd gladly snip a few and after they've lost their life, I'd set them in my compost pile in my backyard.
Valentine's Day is coming up and I can't stop thinking about the amount of money and resources get wasted on such a commercialized day when probably over two thirds of the world's population either doesn't want to have anything reminding them of their loneliness or they don't have the privilege of sending their sweetheart a dozen roses that cost over $80.
Some people I know say that they don't like thinking about how their actions have an impact on everything around them; they say that it's too depressing to think about all the things they're doing "wrong" and all the things that they'll no longer be able to do if they focus on reducing their carbon footprints. Well, to be honest, I think that's very selfish but also completely inaccurate. Sure, there's an adjustment period, but once you've gotten past that, you start feeling proud of the impact you're making.
A
UPDATE (February 26th, 2010):
My not-review of the play has been posted.
No origami flowers were made.
I am using some of my tactics on "How to Stop Liking Someone" and they're working.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Operation Aoy
www.OperationAoy.com
Please go to the site and read the mission.
Aoy is one of the most caring women I have ever met. When I lived in Marquette, Michigan I frequently went to the Rice Paddy and loved chatting with Aoy while she made my special order vegetarian egg rolls. “For you, girlfriend, I make them special. Take more time, but taste good for you, vegetarian girlfriend,” she’d say. I’d wait two hours if I had to (and sometimes honestly did) because I can honestly say, her food was made with love.
Out of all the men I’ve met in my lifetime, Kyle is one of the most genuine. Life and brilliance radiates off of this man, spreading joy and contentment to each and every individual with whom he comes in contact. His photography skills are amazing and how he came to be co-owner of his own photography business is phenomenal. Being able to be a part of that process is so humbling.
I can honestly say that my life has been truly blessed by having these two people in my life. Passing the word on about their mission is one way that I can give back for the joy they’ve brought into my life.
Please, please read the mission of OperationAoy.com.
It takes 5 minutes to donate. If you read this please take the time to either donate or spread awareness.
Thank you.
Please go to the site and read the mission.
Aoy is one of the most caring women I have ever met. When I lived in Marquette, Michigan I frequently went to the Rice Paddy and loved chatting with Aoy while she made my special order vegetarian egg rolls. “For you, girlfriend, I make them special. Take more time, but taste good for you, vegetarian girlfriend,” she’d say. I’d wait two hours if I had to (and sometimes honestly did) because I can honestly say, her food was made with love.
Out of all the men I’ve met in my lifetime, Kyle is one of the most genuine. Life and brilliance radiates off of this man, spreading joy and contentment to each and every individual with whom he comes in contact. His photography skills are amazing and how he came to be co-owner of his own photography business is phenomenal. Being able to be a part of that process is so humbling.
I can honestly say that my life has been truly blessed by having these two people in my life. Passing the word on about their mission is one way that I can give back for the joy they’ve brought into my life.
Please, please read the mission of OperationAoy.com.
It takes 5 minutes to donate. If you read this please take the time to either donate or spread awareness.
Thank you.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Friends Over Thirty
Life dealt me a couple hundred decks before I was able to play anything other than Crazy Eights. And somehow with small hands, I've been able to play the cards rather well, but it's taken a lot of practice. Bluffing, cheating and quite a bit of luck have helped me on my way. I had a pretty interesting childhood. I've seen and been a part of things that would probably shock you and I'm not going to get into too many details right here because that's not the point of this entry, but believe me, shit went down.
I started taking care of everyone in my life because I knew that I could, I knew it was my purpose to heal them, to smooth the edges of rough conversations and situations and I got really good at it. I got very good at expressing myself, but not in the minute things were happening but rather later, discussing how I felt and how I'm feeling about future catastrophes. I grew-up talking to councilors and teachers. Those who were not immediately connected to the chaos of my life were easily trusted and became my confidantes. I could tell them anything.
The thoughts I had were unlike those of my peers, they were deeper and warranted more discussion than my friends' attention spans could muster. It started in middle school, staying after to chat with teachers and by the middle of high school, I would rather hang out with teachers in the lounge than sit with my peers at lunch.
It's not surprising to me at all that now some of the people that I consider my closest friends are at least in their thirties. Spending time with peers isn't difficult, but what I consider important in life rarely coincides with their thoughts and I can only handle going to clubs or sitting in crowded bars for about two hours before I feel that my intelligence has diminished.
On Christmas Eve day I was chatting with my dad's ex-wife who is now a very close friend of mine. What I've discussed in this entry came up and I told her how some of my friends think that I am "too serious" and to that I reply: "I'm not too serious, I just think about things that need to be thought about." It really is as simple as that.
Feeling, both mentally and emotionally, about twice my age really is strange sometimes. There's a part of me that wants my body to fast forward to catch up, so I'll be an established career person doing my thing with a house and dog and who knows, even a life partner and kids? And then there's my inner child that goes: "What are you even thinking?! You've got so many things yet to accomplish before you settle." And then I think, you know, I don't know if I ever want to settle.
Whether I settle anytime soon or not, I'm going to continue to enjoy my time with my friends, both young and less young and I'm going to enjoy the heck out of everything. Why not?
I started taking care of everyone in my life because I knew that I could, I knew it was my purpose to heal them, to smooth the edges of rough conversations and situations and I got really good at it. I got very good at expressing myself, but not in the minute things were happening but rather later, discussing how I felt and how I'm feeling about future catastrophes. I grew-up talking to councilors and teachers. Those who were not immediately connected to the chaos of my life were easily trusted and became my confidantes. I could tell them anything.
The thoughts I had were unlike those of my peers, they were deeper and warranted more discussion than my friends' attention spans could muster. It started in middle school, staying after to chat with teachers and by the middle of high school, I would rather hang out with teachers in the lounge than sit with my peers at lunch.
It's not surprising to me at all that now some of the people that I consider my closest friends are at least in their thirties. Spending time with peers isn't difficult, but what I consider important in life rarely coincides with their thoughts and I can only handle going to clubs or sitting in crowded bars for about two hours before I feel that my intelligence has diminished.
On Christmas Eve day I was chatting with my dad's ex-wife who is now a very close friend of mine. What I've discussed in this entry came up and I told her how some of my friends think that I am "too serious" and to that I reply: "I'm not too serious, I just think about things that need to be thought about." It really is as simple as that.
Feeling, both mentally and emotionally, about twice my age really is strange sometimes. There's a part of me that wants my body to fast forward to catch up, so I'll be an established career person doing my thing with a house and dog and who knows, even a life partner and kids? And then there's my inner child that goes: "What are you even thinking?! You've got so many things yet to accomplish before you settle." And then I think, you know, I don't know if I ever want to settle.
Whether I settle anytime soon or not, I'm going to continue to enjoy my time with my friends, both young and less young and I'm going to enjoy the heck out of everything. Why not?
I've Been Cured
My first semester of college was transformational. I know people say stuff like this all the time, but for me it really was, especially musically. Since I was making friends with people who had very different music tastes than me, I was discovering new artists daily. I remember a specific day when Jackie, my prissy, anal-retentive roommate from Chicago came back to our dorm room one day saying: "Today's song of the day is Jack Johnson's 'Better Together.'" Having never heard that guy's name, but not wanting to let Jackie know that, I simply nodded and agreed that it was a great song. When she started working on her homework, I started downloading the song (illegally, I'll admit, but I've since quit), plugged in my headphones and gave it a listen. How had I never heard of Jack Johnson before that moment, how had I survived?
There isn't a really great answer to that question, but I was thankful that Jack was now in my life. Since I couldn't stand heaping doses of Jackie, I'd spend the majority of my weekends at Mandy and Ashley's (Mashley's, if you will). Their dorm room was well-equipped for my weekend get-aways and we always had a lot of fun even if we were just watching movies and eating too much ice cream from Cat Trax, the "convenience store" on campus. Sometimes we'd lay around reading or we'd do something creative, like painting the wood supports that lofted their beds. We'd listen to The Postal Service or Modest mouse and I'd never heard either band before then.
During my sophomore year (which has since been referred to as "The Best Year" of college by many of my friends), I started spending more time with Courtney as she lived just across the hall from me. We learned of each other's musical interests and started sharing our favorites with each other. She once made me a CD that had Katie Melua's cover of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" and I fell in love with the song. Certainly I'd heard The Cure's version before, but I hadn't really taken to it I guess.
It's been a few years since then and I've come across other very talented bands and artists but perhaps the most exciting discovery was a rediscovery. Over the past couple of weeks I've discovered just how much I love The Cure and am amazed that I've gone so long without being absolutely addicted to them. This morning I decided that if ever someone were to ask me what my favorite band is, I'd confidently answer: "That's easy, The Cure."
So, for your viewing and listening pleasure, I give you a studio version of The Cure's "Close to Me." ENJOY!
There isn't a really great answer to that question, but I was thankful that Jack was now in my life. Since I couldn't stand heaping doses of Jackie, I'd spend the majority of my weekends at Mandy and Ashley's (Mashley's, if you will). Their dorm room was well-equipped for my weekend get-aways and we always had a lot of fun even if we were just watching movies and eating too much ice cream from Cat Trax, the "convenience store" on campus. Sometimes we'd lay around reading or we'd do something creative, like painting the wood supports that lofted their beds. We'd listen to The Postal Service or Modest mouse and I'd never heard either band before then.
During my sophomore year (which has since been referred to as "The Best Year" of college by many of my friends), I started spending more time with Courtney as she lived just across the hall from me. We learned of each other's musical interests and started sharing our favorites with each other. She once made me a CD that had Katie Melua's cover of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" and I fell in love with the song. Certainly I'd heard The Cure's version before, but I hadn't really taken to it I guess.
It's been a few years since then and I've come across other very talented bands and artists but perhaps the most exciting discovery was a rediscovery. Over the past couple of weeks I've discovered just how much I love The Cure and am amazed that I've gone so long without being absolutely addicted to them. This morning I decided that if ever someone were to ask me what my favorite band is, I'd confidently answer: "That's easy, The Cure."
So, for your viewing and listening pleasure, I give you a studio version of The Cure's "Close to Me." ENJOY!
Breaking News
There was an extreme earthquake in Haiti yesterday. I found this out from the television at the restaurant where Anna and I were consuming bevvies and tasty snacks for my birthday. While I watched the close-captioning scroll across the screen, absorbing the images that came with them, I suddenly realized that I couldn't pinpoint the last time I watched a news program. I then remembered that it was while I was home for Christmas and the time before that I was home for Thanksgiving and wouldn't you know?--the time before that was when I was home for Halloween.
Watching news shows really get under my skin. As a highly sensitive person, I can't handle watching or hearing about violence, disaster, or tragedies without first protecting myself. Instead of watching the news, I choose to read articles online which allow me more control over the information I'm taking-in. Unfortunately, I'm not actually getting my news from highly validated sources. I get my news from Tumblr. If something really intense happens, someone posts it on Tumblr and within an hour I know about it. Usually it comes with a link to a valid article and if it doesn't I might search to find more information. But that's not always the case.
I've realized that I stay informed with current events that are of interest to my immediate social sphere. For example, Elizabeth and I will discuss the new product gossip we've read about on the Lush Portal while we're at work. My lesbian blogger friends, lovingly called Tumblesbians and I keep each other updated on which celebrity has just come out of the closet and any new relationship news we've heard. My housemates and I will talk about new restaurants opening or bands that are playing shows in upcoming weeks. Politics, healthcare, global happenings are not things that my social groups discuss frequently, at least not with me.
When I used to be involved with organizations geared towards spreading awareness of same-sex couple injustices or environmental impacts, I was much more aware of how I discussed those things with other people in my life. I wanted to keep up to date on those topics because I wanted to contribute to those conversations, I wanted to have a definite position on topics that could arise and I wanted to ask constructive questions.
Regardless of the fact that I'm temporarily not working with any organizations, I should still keep myself up to date with the ongoings in this world. I am a part of this intricate Universe and if I am to positively add to it, I should know what I'm working with.
Watching news shows really get under my skin. As a highly sensitive person, I can't handle watching or hearing about violence, disaster, or tragedies without first protecting myself. Instead of watching the news, I choose to read articles online which allow me more control over the information I'm taking-in. Unfortunately, I'm not actually getting my news from highly validated sources. I get my news from Tumblr. If something really intense happens, someone posts it on Tumblr and within an hour I know about it. Usually it comes with a link to a valid article and if it doesn't I might search to find more information. But that's not always the case.
I've realized that I stay informed with current events that are of interest to my immediate social sphere. For example, Elizabeth and I will discuss the new product gossip we've read about on the Lush Portal while we're at work. My lesbian blogger friends, lovingly called Tumblesbians and I keep each other updated on which celebrity has just come out of the closet and any new relationship news we've heard. My housemates and I will talk about new restaurants opening or bands that are playing shows in upcoming weeks. Politics, healthcare, global happenings are not things that my social groups discuss frequently, at least not with me.
When I used to be involved with organizations geared towards spreading awareness of same-sex couple injustices or environmental impacts, I was much more aware of how I discussed those things with other people in my life. I wanted to keep up to date on those topics because I wanted to contribute to those conversations, I wanted to have a definite position on topics that could arise and I wanted to ask constructive questions.
Regardless of the fact that I'm temporarily not working with any organizations, I should still keep myself up to date with the ongoings in this world. I am a part of this intricate Universe and if I am to positively add to it, I should know what I'm working with.
My Birthday Week
This is the twenty third year of my life. It started about twenty three hours ago. For all of 2009, though I was twenty two years old, I always seemed to tell people I was twenty three instead. I don't know where this idea came from and it didn't bother me, but when people ask me how old I am, I honestly have to stop and think about it.
This week has been dubbed my birthday week. Each day in some way shape or form I am celebrating my birthday:
Sunday wasn't too thrilling, but I did get a lot of reading done and I went to the grocery store, two of my favorite things to do ever.
On Monday I made an omelet for the first time ever. The excitement of this outstanding accomplishment, I knew, would be hard to beat.
Today, my actual birthday (technically I am writing this very early on Wednesday morning), was full of puppy chow and other good foods. I hung out with Anna, a friend I met from Tumblr and we had a great time at Hell's Kitchen. If you haven't been there, I highly suggest going, especially during happy hour when it's not crowded and the appetizer and drink specials are going on. Don't get the Tequila Mockingbird, even if you're tempted by it's clever name, it will not only taste sub-par but will also leave you wishing you'd just asked for straight-up tequila. And I never get just straight-up tequila. Flirt with the server, if her name is Rachael. And when you overhear that she does trapeze work, feel free to fantasize about that while she goes to get your check.
Tomorrow I'll be spending part of the afternoon with Tracy, a friend I met from work. She no longer works with me, but that's a long and not really explainable story. Anyway, she's got some soap for me, a part of my Christmas present that was en route to her when we had done our gift exchange. She'll probably have something for me for my birthday too, I'm not sure.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday I've got some long shifts at work but I'm gladly accepting the hours as I had too few offered to me during the holiday season. The hours that I'm home during those few days I'll probably never leave either the tub, my bed or my new desk that my dad got me for my combined birthday and Christmas present.
And technically this upcoming Sunday doesn't count as part of my birthday week, but I'm making the rules, so it does count. I'm having lunch with Mandy that day. I haven't seen her since right after she got back from Australia and since then she's had a trip to England to visit her boyfriend. It'll be good to see her again. That evening I'll be headed to my work's holiday party. We're having it a month late because it was impossible to schedule during December. I'll eat too much pizza and smile a lot. Depending on how late I stay at the party, I might meander down to the Gay 90's where I'll have a gay ol' time watching the ladies of LaFemme do drag. If I can convince Anna to dance a bit, we might get our groove on too. Who knows? I'll have to leave earlier than I did last time so I don't end up spending nearly twenty dollars to take a cab home. That was absurd.
And there you have it, my birthday week.
This week has been dubbed my birthday week. Each day in some way shape or form I am celebrating my birthday:
Sunday wasn't too thrilling, but I did get a lot of reading done and I went to the grocery store, two of my favorite things to do ever.
On Monday I made an omelet for the first time ever. The excitement of this outstanding accomplishment, I knew, would be hard to beat.
Today, my actual birthday (technically I am writing this very early on Wednesday morning), was full of puppy chow and other good foods. I hung out with Anna, a friend I met from Tumblr and we had a great time at Hell's Kitchen. If you haven't been there, I highly suggest going, especially during happy hour when it's not crowded and the appetizer and drink specials are going on. Don't get the Tequila Mockingbird, even if you're tempted by it's clever name, it will not only taste sub-par but will also leave you wishing you'd just asked for straight-up tequila. And I never get just straight-up tequila. Flirt with the server, if her name is Rachael. And when you overhear that she does trapeze work, feel free to fantasize about that while she goes to get your check.
Tomorrow I'll be spending part of the afternoon with Tracy, a friend I met from work. She no longer works with me, but that's a long and not really explainable story. Anyway, she's got some soap for me, a part of my Christmas present that was en route to her when we had done our gift exchange. She'll probably have something for me for my birthday too, I'm not sure.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday I've got some long shifts at work but I'm gladly accepting the hours as I had too few offered to me during the holiday season. The hours that I'm home during those few days I'll probably never leave either the tub, my bed or my new desk that my dad got me for my combined birthday and Christmas present.
And technically this upcoming Sunday doesn't count as part of my birthday week, but I'm making the rules, so it does count. I'm having lunch with Mandy that day. I haven't seen her since right after she got back from Australia and since then she's had a trip to England to visit her boyfriend. It'll be good to see her again. That evening I'll be headed to my work's holiday party. We're having it a month late because it was impossible to schedule during December. I'll eat too much pizza and smile a lot. Depending on how late I stay at the party, I might meander down to the Gay 90's where I'll have a gay ol' time watching the ladies of LaFemme do drag. If I can convince Anna to dance a bit, we might get our groove on too. Who knows? I'll have to leave earlier than I did last time so I don't end up spending nearly twenty dollars to take a cab home. That was absurd.
And there you have it, my birthday week.
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