bitter guilt

I am inspired by MNS's Wednesday post to write about my own guilt.

My dad called me yesterday to ask if it was alright that he and my mom come up in a few weeks to visit. Back in December, my mom told me that they were thinking about a visit in late February. It would be right before my birthday and if they came during that time she wouldn't feel guilty about not being able to swing over to the city to see me during their annual July upstate NY trip. As a side info-thingy, the trip upstate is to see my mom's relatives who are fondly referred to as "the Italians" (well... because they are), and every year they stop by the city before or after going to see the Italians to see me and any other relative that's in the vicinity. This year my mom decided not to rush the July trip to upstate. Whatever. Anyway, I expected them to come in February.

Anyway, dad calls yesterday and asks if it's alright that they come up during my birthday weekend. If only I had a sound clip to add to my post. It would be of the sound of crickets because I was silent when he asked that question. As much as I sometimes like to hang out with my parents I don't want to spend my birthday weekend with them. They're fine in small doses, but they like to be really social and can party anyone I know under the table and they visit other relatives (who I'm not close with) when they come to the city when they are supposed to be here to visit me and for some reason I get so anxious around them. I think that I get anxious is because my mom wants certain things for me that I don't want and if I tell her otherwise she gets upset and tells my dad and then my dad and I have words and that causes conflict and drama and I don't like drama (unless I'm acting in one). The best (or worst) part about his phone call was that my mom already booked the tickets to come up here and didn't bother to call to make sure it was alright to come. It's like she's realizing that I'm starting to take a stand for myself against her and she's using guerilla tactics against me to get her way. Damn!

I find it very prophetic that today's word-of-the-day on my "Forgotten English" calendar is "gall of bitterness: the bitterest grief, extreme affliction." Hmmmm.

an incentive to stay young

What ever you do, make sure that you don't get old. Why? Because of this. Damn! I was beginning to look forward to turning 30, but after reading this I don't think I'm going to go through with it.

all by myself

My other is away from the homestead tonight. When the boy is out to play I have to fend for myself, which is fine. So, I spent my evening alone being pitiful. After eating a pound of Indian food for lunch followed by a shared bag of bbq potato chips and half of a chocolate chocolate chip cookie, in which I had the bigger half, I came home and finished off a half eaten box of uber-fancy chocolates, a micro mac-n-cheese meal, some pineapple, and a ginger ale. I should point out that the mac and the ale were organic before any of you get uppity on me.

Anyway, the even more pitiful moment came when I flipped through the channels and landed on Shall We Dance. When I saw Richard Gere, in full tux and rose in hand, ride up an escalator of a department store to his wife, Susan Sarandon, I started crying as if I were watching Titanic all over again. "I'll never leave you, Jack." What a wuss! Of course, I didn't watch the movie from the beginning. I only saw the part where he started to put on his dancing shoes up to the part where he came in the ballroom to dance the final dance with J.Lo. I immediately flashed back to Dirty Dancing, stopped crying, rolled my eyes, and finished off the last bit of chocolate that I thought I couldn't finish. Guess I found the strength, or at least the inspiration.

t-minus 72 hours and counting

Today is my last day off before school starts on Monday. "What will you do with your day?", you ask. Well, I'll start my day by leisurely drinking a cup of coffee, later I'll take my damn time in the shower, then I'll go out to dinner at one of my favorite Japanese restaurants, and finally I'll wind down the day by seeing a musical. What I do in between all of that I think I'll be spontaneous about. You never know what I could do next. I don't even know what I'll do next, but I'll make the most of it.

Ok, for reals, I'm sure some of my day will consist of posting another entry, calling a few friends, and finally cleaning up my pile of papers that have been looking at me since last semester's finals.

Alright, the honest truth, I'm know that my day will consist of playing spider solitaire, watching Maury, and eating any and all of the left over chocolate in my house. Don't judge, any of you would be doing the same.

can I borrow your towel for a sec? My car just hit a water buffalo

Fletcherize. Does it mean...

a) To chew thoroughly.

or

b)

brush up your english

My mom goes all out for Christmas. Every year she sends the following: gift cards, one really great gift, one really awful gift, and a stocking full of small items ranging from the practical to the "what the hell." This year, one of those stocking items was a 366-day calendars for your desk. The one she sent me was titled, "Jeffrey Kacirk's Forgotten English: A 366-Day Calendar of Vanishing Vocabulary and Folklore for 2008." Uh, thanks?

Anyway, I though it was ok, but I don't have a lot of work space so what am I going to do with one of these calenders? So, I left the calendar on one of my bookshelves were it functioned beautifully as a paperweight. Wouldn't you do that?

Yesterday, my other got into one of his moods about cleaning up around the house and as I was walking out the door for work he gave me a bag full of left over holiday chocolates and my 366-day calendar. When I got to work I opened up the box the calendar was in, removed the plastic wrapping, and tore the pages leading up to Tuesday January 1st. The forgotten word of that day was crapulous. My inner 7 year old thought that word was funny. The definition of the word is "sick by intemperance connected or associated with drunkenness." My inner alcoholic that definition was funny. I guess this wasn't as bad of a gift as I thought it would be.

The words for January 2 - 5 & 6 (which were on the same page) were not as good as crapulous. Manners-bit - a portion of a dish left by the guests, that the host may not feel himself reproached for insufficient preparation, basket-fortune - a small fortune, said of a girl's marriage-portion, lamb's wool - a favorite liquor among the common people, composed of ale and roasted apples, and gipsying-party - a party who meet to frolic int he open air. Don't you feel ready to tackle the verbal portion of the SAT?

a what-cake?

If today was any day in the 3 months or so leading up to Thanksgiving I would be grabbing IPJ by his home-made knitted scarf and dragging him up to the UWS and standing amongst the throngs of hipsters to wait for this to open. However, we live in a post-cupcake "oh-my-god-I-can't-wait-until-next-week" apocalyptic world. It has been... wow, I don't know how long it has been since our last cupcake-off? I don't think I remember what a cupcake even tastes like. I used to be able to taste the sugar and butter residue left in my mouth after eating our little indulgences for at least 2 or 3 days. But now, I'm lucky if I remember what a cupcake looks like. It also helps that the cupcakes from that place weren't the miraculous experience they were hyped up to be. Don't remember? Refresh your memory here. Or maybe I wanted them to be bad. You decide.

bittersweet desires

Only when you've been really good about your exercise habits, and eating better than relatively well, and removing 99.9% of all of the soda in your life, that you find this!

Bastards.

march of the haggis

This past weekend I attended a Burns supper. Don't know what that is? Neither did I, for the most part. All I knew was what I could put into key terms: Scotch tastings, kilt wearing, and haggis processional. What the fuck????? It's kinda the same reaction I get when I hear that a beloved cartoon is being turned into a live action movie. But since the tickets for the dinner were already purchased and because I was intrigued by the thought of a haggis processional I was ready to put on a dress and enjoy the evening.

I know you are all asking, "what is a Burns supper?" Well, a Burns supper is named after the Scottish poet Robert Burns who's best known work is Auld Lang Syne (I always thought that the writer of that was anonymous). The entire evening is dedicated to "the Bard" (as he is called in Scotland) and to all things Scottish. Poetry written by Burns is read, scotch is thrown back, and there is a lot of blathering over a haggis. Sounds exciting, right?

I was at work before the supper, and Kansas and I spent a little time making fun of the upcoming haggis processional. "All hail the haggis!" "Bring forth the haggis!" "Hail ye, hail ye, move your fat asses out of the way. The haggis is coming through!" OK, I took some liberty with the haggis announcements, but you get the idea. The point being, it helped liven the day. So, thanks Kansas!

I went to the supper with my other, Mr and Mrs... uh... Smith? (just in case they are reading) and Mrs Smith's father who kindly purchased the tickets for the dinner. I arrived a little late (work) but got to the venue with enough time to enjoy the reception portion of the evening. I wasn't even there for 2 minutes when some very nice man, in full kilt dress no less, asked me to dance. So, off to do a Scottish jig I a-go (or a-went). As soon as the dance was over I ran (sprinted) to find my company. After a few minutes of waiting around, watching my other trying to grab another thimble full of scotch, dinner was announced.

I'm going to skip a few things to get to the exciting part of the post... the processional. This is the thing that I waited patiently for (not really). The parade was about to start. We were all asked to stand up. The bagpipes began. Guess who was playing the pipes? Yup, my dance partner. Anyway, the haggis was marched around the dinning hall with much seriousness and pomp. The haggis was finally brought to the front table. Once placed upon it final resting place, the master of ceremonies began to recite a Burns poem, Ode to the Haggis (or Epitaph to the Haggis or Lament of the Haggis or something like that) and then began to wave a dagger and swoon over the haggis. Then it was cut and opened. About time, cause I was getting hungry.

Dinner included kale, mashed turnips and potatoes, meat pie (which I couldn't finish and which may or may not have had anything to do with a certain demon barber) and the haggis. I didn't try the haggis. I wasn't feeling adventuresome that evening. I didn't even feel much like connecting with my Scottish heritage after I got a whiff of the haggis when it was passed around me. Thankfully, the wine was plentiful that evening.

After some more poetry reading by people with not-so-awful Scottish accents, some fiddle playing, and a Scottish juggler who also sang Gaelic ballads, the evening came to a close. I wasn't drunk enough, so we had to go out afterwards to the closest Irish pub we could find. After some Magners, I was soused good and plenty. Ready for bed time.

All in all, it was an experience. And it was fun. For next time I have learned the following: always look like you are busy having fun or else you'll be asked to get jiggy, be sure to eat a large lunch in case you find a little bit of priest in your meat pie, and be sure to begin drinking earlier in the evening so when the haggis is being passed around you'll be too drunk to care.

5 things to know about me

1. I love laughing. I even make myself laugh. I think it's hysterical when I think about someone or something that was funny in the past and I can recall it and laugh again. Also, I love it that I can say or write something funny enough to make myself laugh. Every now and then I'll try to say something funny and I can't get it out with a straight face. I can't help it. It may be a bit conceded to say so, but I think it's one of my best qualities.

2. I don't know how to dress for winter. Seriously. I get it wrong everyday. I grew up in the greater West Palm Beach area where there are only 3 types of weather: humid and hot, hot and rainy, and the occasional freak cold spell. I lived in Florida for all of my formative years and never once owed a sweater, scarf, mittens, long underwear, etc. I only owned one pair of closed toed shoes (tennis shoes) but they were rarely worn, jackets were for fashion purposes and usually stayed in my car, and when it got cold (in my terms that means below 60 degrees) I put on a sweatshirt. Since I moved up here I have reluctantly bought winter appropriate wear, but I either layer too much or not enough and I can't...figure...it...out!

3. I cry every time I watch the movie Forest Gump. I hold it together really well until Forest is standing at Jenny's grave and tells her that Little Forest wrote her a letter and that his daddy wasn't allowed to read it. The waterworks get turned on at that point and I loose my snot. I've seen that movie at least 30 times and I still turn into a goober by the final 10 minutes. I try to be so tough, but I'm a girl on the inside.

4. I love coffee in a bad way. I have a ton of memories that surround coffee. For Christmas this year I received at least 5 Starbucks gift cards. My favorite roast is French. I loath flavored coffees. I am willing to give up sugar in my coffee but never the cream. I own a "Grind and Brew" Cuisinart coffee maker that grinds my beans, filters my water and keeps my coffee warm for hours (but brewed coffee is only good for up to 30-40 minutes at most before it gets bitter). I love that coffee maker so much that I consider it part of the family. I also own a french press for those days that I only need a small amount of coffee or when my beloved Cuisinart is not well.

5. I'm a huge flirt. Okay, that's not a surprising thing to know, but I didn't title this post "5 NEW things to know about me." I'm usually confidant, and outgoing, and social, and open to new things, and friendly, and (as someone recently told me as one of the things they like about me) forward. Isaac always picks on me for being flirty at the box office with all of the older gentleman patrons that come to pick up tickets from me. You should ask him to do his impression of flirty-me. It's hysterical and so inaccurate and involves breasts squeezing but it's worth seeing it. So far, my flirting hasn't gotten me into trouble. But then again, trouble at 20 is different than trouble at almost 30; so by that statement... flirting hasn't gotten me into trouble that I couldn't get myself out of.

how forgetting got me to think today

As I sit on my couch, typing this post and listening to girly-rock on pandora, I am reflecting on the events of my day and thinking about my life as I fast approach the age of 30.

I slept in a little late, but I wasn't in a rush to hop out of bed as it was my day off. I had a full day scheduled with a new yoga class, finishing up the closets, and getting laundry done. I felt the day was off to a good start when I smelled the coffee brewing while still under the warmth of my blanket. After a little self motivation, I finally rolled out of bed, drank my one obligatory cup of wake up juice, and preceded to shower. Things going well so far.

I compiled all of my day's essentials into my backpack this morning, grabbed my yoga mat, grabbed my key chain, walked out of the apartment, shut the door behind me. SHIT! Right then and there I realized that I forgot to put my apartment keys back on my key chain (last night I attempted to go out for a jog and had placed a few keys in my shoe for safe keeping) and I found myself locked out of my apartment. Thank goodness I had my phone and wallet on me. I preceded to call the landlady for assistance and she said she's was White Plains but would be back by noon. No problem since my class was scheduled to end at 12:30.

Yoga was amazing. I haven't taken a yoga class in many moons, but it was a wonderful experience nonetheless. I felt so good and confidant (especially since IPJ taught me so well in our pilates sessions) and I required little assistance from the instructor. I rocked that class! I can't wait to go back on Thursday.

So I came back home around 1pm to find my landlady not yet home. It seems she thought if I wasn't going to be home anytime soon that she wouldn't be either. I didn't have to wait long for her arrival though. I also didn't have to wait long to find out that she doesn't have the key to my apartment. Off to lunch and then a leisurely train ride to midtown to obtain my other's keys.

The rest of the events are not as exciting. I got the keys and came back home. Easy, breezy.

Though my day is far from over, I still want to report my day's reflections. The yoga instructor mentioned a couple of times today about making the resolution to take care of our bodies and to take things easy. What does my body need? What can I let go of? I know that I have the power to change anything in my life and I'd rather change than make the resolution to change. As I am to turn 30 soon, I will take better care of my life (physically, emotionally, spiritually) so I can live well the next 30 years. Nothing is worth the bad stresses I feel in life (as opposed to good stress like school and a busy social life). Nothing is worth the fighting I engage in with others. Nothing is worth me loosing or forgetting about myself in order to make others happy. I want to be happy. I want to live in the moment. I want to feel good about myself. I want to be active and alive. I want to turn my wants into wills. And I will do anything to achieve my wants.

So, hopefully I can get through the year without hearing about what my life is lacking from my 'rents. Hopefully I can improve those relationships that need the work. Hopefully I can get back onto the track that I was on when I first moved to New York. Hopefully I won't find myself in the situation of being locked out of my apartment ever again. Hopefully.

I would totally have sex in exchange for a pedicure

These primates have the right idea. Click here to find out more.

closeted exchanges

Background info- I have only 2 closets in my apartment and both of them are pretty user un-friendly. They are long and narrow and tall and one has to be creative when thinking about how to organize them. My other has asked me to go through the closet in the 2nd bedroom, that we use as our office, so he could schedule a pick up from a charity organization that would take our old junk. Seeing how I have organized the rest of the apartment, how I am more tidy than he is, and how I even like to do this type of chore, I accepted this challenge.

Day 1- (Friday) The closet in my office has been purged save a few items. I removed everything on the floor, saved whatever clothing and shoes I planned on keeping while bagging the rest, combined the items within a couple of storage boxes into one box, removed one of the clothing rods, and vacuumed. I left a few old suits and a box full of t's for my other to go though.

Before...



After...

Not great pics but you get the idea. I had planned on putting a tall & narrow dresser we don't use much in the closet. It was to be for seasonal storage. It was a perfect plan. I measured out the space in the closet and the width of the dresser and I expected to have a 4 inch clearance on the sides. I asked my other to remove the dresser out of the bedroom (it was caught in a tight space) and put in it the back of the closet, as well as go through his share of the clothing that was left in the closet. By Saturday, all I had left to do was put back what we wanted to keep in an efficient and organized manner.

Results- Dresser didn't fit. I didn't measure the door frame. The other removed his box of t's and the suits but just placed them all on the first open surface he could find instead of sorting them. The dresser is smack in the middle of the office where there is only enough room to get around the piece of furniture if you don't mind straddling it. Kinky and annoying at the same time.

Next time- Other reasons why I'm doing this project (and I promise you it's not for the fame and glory of it all), more pics (hopefully), and the continuation of the story of my decent into the dark recesses of my closet.

afternoon delight

Why is it, that on my days off, I get sick. "cough, cough." It's like my body knows that I want to go out and enjoy the city when I have loads of free time and it retaliates because I want to have fun. Sucks!

And speaking of sucking... did any of you see Die Mommie Die? I did. Last night. And I'm sorry that I did. The theater building was amazing. It was at New World Stages (which I hadn't been to before) and all of the theaters were underground. It was converted into legit theaters from a series of movie theaters. You have to walk down this long flight of stairs to one level, have your ticket scanned, and then walk down another long flight of stairs to get to the theaters. I felt as if I was walking down the direct route to hell. Little did I know that in hell you spend your time watching revivals of Charles Busch plays staring Charles Busch. Perhaps I'm sick because my body is punishing me for having sat through the entire thing. Damn my theatre ethic and manners!

Anyway, I'm spending my day cleaning out a closet. I'll have to take pictures and make a little closet-log for you in another post. But I'm happy to report that I have cleaned out enough of the closet to be able to walk inside of it. I have been in and out of the closet all day. I'm sure that this statement is no surprise to any of you. More later. It's exciting stuff.

In between closet-purging duties, I've been keeping myself distracted today. The usual. Writing a post, doing dishes, doing my Risky Business impersonation while I have the apartment to myself, prank calls, (oh wait! I'm having a flash back to when I was 13). I'm enjoying it.

The banging and hammering and drilling in the apartment next door to my apartment has, for now, subsided. Now the contractors are talking in the hall way and running in and out of my building (it's really small) and walking up and down the stairs and it's really annoying. I guess I can't have it all if I stay at home all day. Perhaps my prince will come (or at least call) and take me away to where there are less people and noises and keep me distracted until my real life punches out it's time card for the day. Nice thought.

how was your new year's?

I would like to say that this wasn't me on January 1st. But alas...

stupid is as stupid does

I mean, seriously, why?

resolving not to make resolutions

I've never been one to make resolutions for New Year's (like how I'm not one to sit at the table during Thanksgiving and exclaim what I'm thankful for in front of everyone). I think that one should be reflective all year long. Take me for instance. I often remind myself that smoking and drinking is not good for me after I have had a 5th of Jack and a pack of Marlboro's. (just kidding, I don't drink Jack).

I'm not trying to change myself. Rather, I look at it as I am trying to acquire better habits. Eat healthier, get more rest, reduce my amount of lying, stop whoring around. They are the sort of things all of us want to improve. Of course, you have to recognize that you have a problem (or 10) in the first place. I have to accept that I'm a Patsy (go figure).

My genuine year-'round resolutions tend to be along the lines of resolving to try harder, take chances, don't take things personally, and go after my dreams. I think that day after day I'm improving little by little. And that's all I can truly hope for. So, I hope all of you had a great New Year's and I hope that your resolutions become realities.