A Short Story, Part Deux

Once upon a time in the land of a million hopes and a billion lost dreams, there lived a small, fragile girl   with big, icey-grey eyes, icey-blonde hair, and enough falsely contrived charm to captivate and entrance even the coldest of hearts.  She turned heads walking down the street, turned heads on the subway, and was never at a loss for dates out at the expense of whatever boy she was currently letting pursue her.    She lived with her boyfriend of five years in a tiny apartment in the East Village, and regularly cheated on him in the hopes that one day, one of the dudes she was fucking on the side would provide her with the break she had been waiting for since she was 18.  Her boyfriend, an aspiring musician, was consistently faithful and saving money wherever he could in the hopes that he could one day provide his girl with the life he believed she deserved.  He worked three jobs to pay the bills, take her out to nice dinners whenever he had a night off of work, and put money in his savings account for the engagement ring he was planning to buy her for their upcoming anniversary.  He was madly in love, and blind to her true nature, despite the fact that his closest friends saw right through her and regularly warned him as to their suspicion that she was not faithful in the least and a manipulative and conniving bitch.

 The girl was an aspiring actress who just couldn't get a break.  She busted her ass waiting tables and doing bottle service at hot club where she was regularly hit on by New York's finest douche bags, and often met the guys she let take her out and slept with in return for favors.  She was a slut in the most basic sense of the word.  While her boyfriend was up all night working at the 24/7 diner around the corner from her apartment, she could either be found flirting and dancing with an older gentleman getting bottles at the club where she worked, or out on the town at another club, grinding on some other old dude in return for lines of blow in the VIP section.  She didn't really feel much at all these days- it could have been from the years of rejection and having her hopes and dreams of becoming a star on the silver screen shot down time and time again, or it could have been from the grade A cocaine going up her nostrils on a nightly basis...either way, she was numb and lived her life in a blurred haze of drug use, alcohol consumption, and rich men that gave her what she wanted as long as she was hooking up with them.  She had learned years ago how exactly to shut off her feelings.  She couldn't remember the last time she cried, and she couldn't remember the last time that she was truly happy without the aid of synthetically manufactured drugs or the thrill of a ride in some investment banker's hot car.  There was no real punctuation, just a daily routine of sleeping late, working a little, and partying hard, the same routine day in and day out was growing old, just as she was growing old, and life as she new it was growing old.

Once upon a time, she had been sweet and her charm had been genuine.  Once upon a time, she had also been madly in love with her boyfriend, the way that he still loved her even now.  Once upon a time, she never could have fathomed falling so far from grace and cheating on him, she never could have fathomed nights of doing free lines in return for a BJ in the men's room.  Now, as she stood on the corner of 14th street on a busy Saturday in Union Square where she was going to meet with her agent to discuss an upcoming independent film she was going to be featured in, something triggered her memory.  As she stood waiting for the light to turn, cars and cabs and bikes buzzing by in a flurry of movement, she stared into space and remembered the very first time she had stood waiting to cross the street when she was going for her first consultation with her current agency.  She was a different person then; her dreams were so high, her standards were higher.  She was hopeful and not run down.  She thought with her heart and her mind, and she wasn't fueled so much as she was now by her desperate desire for fame and wealth.  These were the days when she didn't give a fuck about being able to skip the line at the hottest night club, these were the days when she didn't even know what a Birken bag was.  The days when her grey eyes weren't ice cold, but warm and sparkled with that brilliance that can only be seen in the eyes of someone who is pure of heart.

The crowd of people around her started to move forward across the street, and she awoke from her daydream and began to cross too without looking either way.  As she stepped off of the curb, a rogue bicyclist clipped her and she jumped back and gasped in shock.... "Jesus Christ, watch where you're fucking going!" she screamed after the mexican delivery boy whom simply turned his head to look back on her before he sped off down the street.

After her meeting, she went home to chill for the few hours she had before she her next appointment- a date with a 42 year old financial analyst who wanted to take her to dinner and out on the town in his sick Mercedes SUV.  She was sitting on the couch watching re-runs of Sex in the City, when her boyfriend came in the door, fresh from rehearsal with his band.  "Hey Babe, how was your meeting?" She turned to look at him, a vile look of disgust taking over her otherwise pretty face, "Take your fucking shoes off Jimmy, Jesus!  I am tired of cleaning up after you, I'm not your mother!" she said, and then went back to staring at the tv.  He leaned over to unlace his converse.  "So, are you working tonight?  If you aren't, my friend is playing a show at the Rosewood- we should go."  Again she turned her gaze from the tv and looked at him, the same look of disgust coming across her face, her grey eyes cold and steely, "I fucking told you- I work EVERY night this week.... I go in at 9."  "Oh, Excuse me for not remembering your schedule on top of my own..." he said as he opened the fridge and scoured it for an readily edible piece of food to fill the hole in his stomach after another long day.

Later that night, as our main character was getting ready for her 'date', she found a baggie of coke she had stashed away in her underwear drawer.  She looked behind her to make sure the bedroom door was closed and that Jimmy was occupied with his computer.  She unscrewed the hidden coke spoon pendant that hung around a gold chain on her slender neck and did a bump before placing the rest back under her collection of lacy thongs and heavily padded bras.  She put on her highest heels and took a look at herself in the mirror.  She stared at her own reflection; her eyes seemed dead despite the cat-eye eyeliner and metallic shadow she had used specifically to make them stand out.  She puckered her lips to apply a final coat of lipgloss and ran her fingers through her hair.  She thought about the fact that she was no longer 20 years old, and the late nights of partying hard were slowly beginning to take a toll.  The appearance of fine lines on her forehead and the dark circles she so expertly concealed under her eyes were a tell-tale sign of her frequent drug use, lack of sleep, and constant stress she felt at hiding the fact that she was regularly hooking up with other dudes all whilst trying to keep these secrets from getting to the attention of her naive boyfriend, who now sat playing Call of Duty.   "Fuck the Chanel bag, I better ask for botox and collagen injections later... " she said to her reflection before she turned to walk out the door.  "Will you be home late tonight?" her boyfriend asked without looking away from the tv, "I can wait up and make you your favorite mac and cheese if you want."  "No, I might spend the night at a friend's house since she lives right next to the place where I have that audition tomorrow."  I'll call you when I'm out of work though."  She turned to walk out the front door as Jimmy called after her, "I love you, make sure you have someone walk you out of work, I don't like you leaving the club with so much money on you alone."  "I will- see you tomorrow." And with that, she closed the door behind her and ran down the three flights of stairs to the street below where she expected her date to be waiting.

She looked around for the matte black SUV she expected him to be waiting in.  She got out her phone to send him a text and was looking down she heard a horn beep.  She looked up as the SUV pulled over to the curb.  She put her phone in her pocked and smiled as she headed over to climb into his car.


FAST FOWARD THREE HOURS....

She is drunk now, has already made three trips to the ladies room to blow lines of coke that her date happily provided her with, and is again staring into the mirror to reapply her lipgloss.  As she puckers up and pulls out the wand, she hears a group of girls behind her snickering and turns around to see what they're laughing at.  One of the girls in the group- a tall, model-thin brunette stops laughing long enough to look her dead in the face and say, "Whore."  She puts away her lipgloss and and walks out back into the blaring music and dark of the club.  As she approaches the table where her date has a bottle set up, she sees another girl sitting next to her date with her long legs draped over his own.  She panics at the sight of this as her heart begins to race.  "WTF?" she thinks to herself as she decides to turn around and walk away.  "Fuck him, I'll find someone richer and hotter to go home with."  She sees a promoter she knows from the club where she works and joins his table, smiling and dancing with a martini glass in her hand.  He gives her some molly, and she gets even more fucked up than she already was.  Her heart is racing and despite the fact that she is sweating profusely, she continues to dance.  She climbs on top of the couch with a bottle of Chandon in her hand, and takes a sip from the bottle as she gyrates and moves in sync with the heavy base of the blaring house music.  She feels her body overheating as she sways to the music, but she doesn't care.  Fuck it- nothing matters anymore.  She takes another swig from the bottle, and looks back over at the table where her date is still sitting, the same skinny bitch still draped over his lap.  He makes eye contact with her across the crowd, and she takes another swig of champage.  Suddenly the world starts to close in and everything around the edges goes black.  She attempts to sit down, but it's too late.  She collapses onto the bench, spilling champagne everywhere.  She is dead.


The end.

Happy and wasted (aka, the way life should be)

Dear Readers,

I know that i have been negligent with my posts these last few months, but life is looking up.  I usually only prefer to write when I am the saddest, because that is usually when I am the saddest and I need to express myself because I will go crazy if I don't.  However,   I am currently very drunk, with my boyfriend, whom I very much like, having one of the most wonderful Sunday nights off.  You should be very jealous.    If you are not jealous, you should be.  Life is very good, minus the job that I hate.  But that is a minor detail that can be fixed.   I am just happy that I am not sad. I am happy that my boyfriend is awesome.  I am happy that despite the fact that I am crazy when I don't sleep (which is often), I am generally happy and not suicidal.  Despite the fact that I am probably 10 lbs. heavier than I was in the Spring time, it is because I am happy and eating great dinners with my bf.  And even if I am heavier, I don't care because I am happier.  Ps.  I need to update the general info I have posted in my profile, because that was my old BF... and my old life.  And life today is different and better.  I feel like an adult.  A good adult life. that is fun, and fresh, and full of possibilities.


Love Kelsey,



LOVEEEEEEE ME.

Winter is Coming

Time is moving at a rate that is entirely too fast for me to keep up with.  I have been working at Mollister for almost a month now, which blows my mind since it seems as though I just started last week.  I'm still doing door at Highline on the weekends, and spend days off catching up on cleaning and laundry and spending quality time with my boyfriend whenever I have a night off and/or don't have to be up at the ass crack of dawn to go to work in the morning.  I haven't written an entry in quite some time because I've been too busy to process my thoughts and lack the energy to sit here and write when there are better ways I could be spending my energy (ex. eating, going out, etc.).  Since I now have a slightly more reliable source of income, I am planning on doing some serious winter shopping for myself (I need approximately one billion items to make up for the lack of shopping I did this fall) and doing a few improvements around the good, old apartment (yes, a dreaded trip to Ikea is in the near future... thank God Red Hook has a lobster pound which makes the trip out there a bit better).  It's finally time to let go of the hanging star lamp above my bed that can only be described as a something that looks like a relic from a Calcutta brothel.  Furthermore, my down comforter has taken some serious abuse since I moved here.  It has had coffee spilled on it numerous times, and I've cried on it countless times, thereby staining it with black mascara.  So shameful.

Other than my messy bed spread, life has been going rather smoothly as of late, punctuated by awesome nights out, awesome dates, and the occasional not so awesome night of sloppy drunkenness (yes, ladies and gentlemen, I still don't know enough to eat before drinking).  I am no longer doing Pinterest boards for Renegadechicks.com due to the lack of free time, however, I am going to continue writing a weekly article for them since it is something I love to do.  I've also been doing a lot of cooking lately, which is also a nice change since I didn't cook anything for about four months of my life and lived off of salad, highline chicken tenders, and booze.  It's nice to have someone to cook with/for again, and he even cooks for me too... which is nice.

Work on my book is finally nearing completion, which is also pretty awesome since it has been a work in progress for the last two years of my life.  I am not even sure what I intend to do when it is finished, but I like to imagine in my little head that I can get it published and live off the royalties for a few years (I'll keep dreaming).  I am thankful that unlike Highline Ballroom, Hollister doesn't have a family meal with chicken tenders and french fries that tempt me on a nightly basis, and that the stairs I take in the store about 30 times a shift have been getting my buns back in shape.  I was nearing kardashian territory for a while it seems... don't want to go back to those days ;)  

I sadly don't think I am going to make it home for Thanksgiving this year, since Mollister is now open on Thanksgiving day.... looks like I'll be cooking my own fucking turkey this year.  So sad.  I don't even think my little oven can accommodate a proper turkey, so I guess it will have to be a stuffed Cornish Hen instead.  HOW FUCKING DEPRESSING.  I'm going to have to get wasted and/or high (jk... or am I...?   ) that night to forget how sad I am that I'm not stuffing my fat face with my aunt's brown rice stuffing or my pumpkin pie.  First I missed Easter, now Thanksgiving... what is next?  Christmas?  I'll fucking kill myself if I can't spend Christmas at home.  I am planning on going home for a couple of nights on the Sunday/Monday prior to Thanksgiving so I can finally see my friends and family.

Another Halloween has already come and gone; this year I was Lisbeth Salandar (from 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo').  I spent the entire day working at Mollister and then worked door at Highline, but at least I had the chance to dress up.  The costume was pretty awesome... no one even recognized me at first, so I'd say it was a success.  I haven't taken any gratuitous selfies lately, so unfortunately no pics of the costume will be posted... sorry, I know you all love my sexual selfies ;) jk.     I cannot wait to go home for a couple of days though... I haven't seen my friends in FOREVER, and I miss Bijou so much it's absurd.  The one thing I truly miss about Highline (apart from the chicken tenders), are all of my friends.  I haven't been out for a casual drink with girlfriends in weeks.  It blows.  Now when I have a night off or get out of work early, the friends I made at Highline are working there.  I just need some girl time... is that so much to ask for?

More Changes

I finally got a full-time job with benefits- and you'll never guess where ; )  :  I will be going back to my roots as a Hollister manager starting this coming Monday.  It's pretty ironic that the job that made me want to move to the city and pursue something more creative and never do retail again has been my saving grace exactly one year after the fact.  I guess desperation will lead you to do crazy things; like re-applying at the job you willingly left.  Despite the fact that work at Highline has been pretty dismal these past couple of months, and despite the fact that all I have wanted was a better, full-time position where I'm not taking people's food/drink orders, I am now feeling these weird twinges of fright, anxiety, and uncertainty over leaving the place where I've been working for the last ten months of my New York life.

Work at Highline has definitely been attributing to my crazy as of late; with my erratic sleep schedule, terrible nights where I make only enough money for a glass of wine and cab fare, nights where I am injured on the job or forced to do heavy, manual labor (lifting chairs up the stairs), or just nights when I am SO fed up of waiting on ungrateful customer's for shitty tips that don't nearly compensate for the degradation I feel as I fight my way through a crowd carrying a heavy tray of hors d'ouvres dressed like a little boy in a button up shirt and flats.  Despite all of these reasons for hating my job, I love pretty much every last person I work with.  It takes me a while to warm up to strangers, and it takes me months of working with someone for me to warm up enough to the idea of socializing with them outside of work.  It seems that I've just made friends with the majority of my co-workers, and now I will be leaving them and starting over.  I will definitely make an effort to continue hanging out with the girls I've made friends with at Highline in the future though.  Even on the shittiest nights at Highline, I took comfort in the fact that we were all in it together and I'd always have someone to go out with and commiserate over a drink when whatever terrible show or event finished.   I wonder if I will have that at my new job... probably not since I'm sure the majority of my employees are underage.  We will see what happens.

I am pretty stoked to have that sweet employee discount again.  Lord knows I need some new jeggings in my life lol.  And, I will probably lose a decent chunk of weight since I won't be binge eating out of anger after a long night a work, or because I have access to those nasty, Highline chicken tenders and pepper jack cheese that I love so much.  TG... I really need to get my former body back... I had a real wake up call the other night when a white dude shouted to me that he "liked a white girl with a booty."  I think the other reason I am so scared of leaving Highline is that despite the fact I've been dying to have a more consistent schedule, the schedule I am on currently allows me plenty of time for dates and outings with my boyfriend, and I have the same schedule as the majority of the people I am friends with at this point, since most of my friends are people from work.   I'm stoked to finally have a better job, but I don't want my relationships to suffer since things are going well right now.  Who knows though; in reality, I'm quite positive that this job will be better for my relationship, since I won't be such a crazy bitch after another bad night at work all of the time.  Seriously though, I sometimes leave my current job wanting to stab any person who gets in my way or looks at me wrong; that place makes me pretty miserable and I fear I sometimes take it out on the wrong people.

My sexified versian of Hollister.... ;) This is how I'd choose to fashion my Hollister clothes were it up to me. 

On a final note; I want to start making a little Rolodex of business cards I am handed from people at work and call it: "Business Cards from Perverts."  I will photograph the business cards and write the little story/pick up line that goes behind each and every one.  People have issues....


On another note, I wonder if I will ever get to go home again.... I haven't been home since the first weekend in September and probably won't be able to request time off of work since I'm starting a brand new job.  I miss my son (Bijou) and baby (Ceely).  I wish I could carry Bijou around all day in a baby bjorn.... what is wrong with me?!


And on one last note, I MUST finish my book.  This has been dragging on too long now.  I need to get it finished, published, and live happily ever after on the royalties like Elizabeth Wurtzel before me.... the end.

Fuck the L train... and the JMZ too

I know I've said it in pretty much every entry that has been written since I moved to NYC last October, but Jesus Christ... I have reached the end of my rope.  I apply for about 5 jobs on average each day; more when I am home doing nothing, and less if I am busy... but, regardless, when you consider the average number of jobs I apply to each day, that is a lot of job applications that have been going out over the course of weeks and months and the past year of my existence.  Half the shit I apply to isn't even a job that I really want (ex:  all of the terrible retail jobs I've been applying to); it's just something slightly better than my current shitty job as a server (I am going to need benefits come February when I'm off the rent's insurance....).  I am pretty sure I've caught pneumonia in the last week from work, and I am currently running a low-grade fever (ie. I'm feeling crazier than normal), so it only adds to the misery (and the humor) of my situation.  The entire thing is truly comical at this point.  I cannot even cry anymore; when I consider the entirety of my current living situation, all I can do is laugh.  I am truly living a modern day Dicken's Tale (granted I have a roof over my head and food in my fridge).  I was forced to stand in the rain for four hours this past saturday in a pair of five inch heels as I inhaled the fumes of a hundred cigarettes and tried to stay dry under the scaffolding of a Western Beef grocery store, all the while getting hit on by a disgustingly, muscular meathead.  Now, if that isn't humorous, I don't know what the fuck is.  I now feel like my lungs are filled with fluid, and my head is on fire, but at least my morale is high (relatively speaking).  I have shit to live for.... regardless of whether or not I have a decent job.  Yes... there is more to life than a job.  I have come to the realization after listening to Maya Angelou's poem, Phenomenal Woman on repeat one night (don't ask... I was PMSing and the only thing that could calm my frazzled brain was that poem), that I am a woman whom is worthy- worthy of love, worthy of a decent job, worthy of everything I am willing to work for.  I don't care if I'm not 5'10" and 90 lbs anymore.... I don't care If I don't go out to the coolest night clubs and do lines of blow in the bathroom and hang out with low grade rockers and models and actors, I don't even care if I work at such a shitty job, because I know that somewhere down the road, something is bound to pay it forward if I keep trucking onward.  I am like a modern-day Cinderella.... just waiting to be saved, but not by a man... by a fucking JOB.

 It has been a tumultuous couple of weeks since I last wrote (but who am I kidding?  My life is always pretty tumultuous, at least in my mind... ;)   ).   My weeks have been punctuated with random job interviews, nearly landing a paid internship that I REALLY REALLY wanted, getting absolutely wasted (although I'm convinced it was actually roofied) after finding out I did not get said internship, working at my shitty little job about two nights a week (SO many dark days), and going out for drinks to forget about my shitty little job.  Yes.... I am living the American dream ladies and gentleman.

Other than the ongoing job hunt, things are good.  Things would be nearly perfect if my job situation were better.  There is always tomorrow for dreams to come true though.  Sigh.  Work at Highline has been utterly depressing as of late.  The place is windowless, and now that the weather is growing colder, coming out at night into the fall air makes it that much worse.  I feel so repressed when I am in there.  I constantly feel like I'm someone's bitch when I'm waiting on rude and cheap people... busting my ass for a 15% tip on a $40 bill is not worth my time.  I know, I know, I know... I should be thankful that I even have a job.  And, I am fortunate enough that I adore pretty much every person that I work with... however, I feel as though I'm losing a bit of my soul with every shift I work at that place (yes, I am dramatic... nothing new there).  I have to get out before my soul is gone completely.  I feel myself becoming meaner and angrier every day, and I don't like being that way, because that is not who I am (a little bitchy sometimes, but not mean).

On a nicer note, Halloween is quickly approaching, and we all know that I LOVE dressing up.  This year, I have decided to be Lisbeth Salendar in 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo."  I want to be someone totally badass and still sexy.... but sexy in a non slutty way.  Plus this is a fun departure from my normal, ultra feminine look.  I am stoked... I just need some plans ;)

A little bit of stage makeup wax goes a long way.... What a chore it is to wax out and conceal brows as dark as mine!

Now I just need to lose about 15 lbs (jk), acquire some fake piercings (I wonder where or how I can fake a nose ring...) and get some TEMPORARY black hair dye (you know... the kind that washes out). 

A pretty severe departure from my normal, girly self and from the Halloween costumes of Yore.... I love it. Halloween costumes of Yore

A Modern-Day Dickens Tale

The year is 2013 and the location of our story is New York City, but it may as well be the year 1837 in a grimy section of industrial London.  The rich get richer as the poor get poorer, and everywhere one walks, it is increasingly evident that in a city where the streets were once-upon-a-time said to be 'paved in gold,' poverty and filth have reached a modern-day high.  There are vagrants of all ages; old veterans missing legs beg for money in broken-down wheelchairs on street corners, and young, twenty-somethings addicted to heroin sit in the doorways of empty storefronts with cardboard signs begging for help.  Even in borough neighborhoods where there is new wealth and gentrification has wiped out the indigent populations and places of business that are being replaced with major names like "Whole Foods," "Starbucks," and "Urban Outfitters," homeless people and drug addicts have made there way out of Manhattan and into these neighborhoods to beg for money from the nouveau-riche.

There are mothers addicted to crack and dads dealing weed toting around their 18-month old child with them on late night drug runs.  People who live on welfare and food stamps producing more babies that they cannot afford to take care of because they lack the education to make good decisions regarding birth control and their own bodies.  There are educated people with college degrees who were promised that if they did everything correctly (ex. graduate high school, go to college, get a degree, and get a decent job upon graduation), they'd make it just fine in the "real" world.  These are now the majority of people who are not employed and find themselves not only looking for work, but also lacking health insurance.  These are people from decent families, who did everything that they were "supposed to" do, and now cannot afford to go to the doctor for something as simple as a case of strep throat because they don't have health insurance.  Without insurance, a person is fucked.  People without health and dental insurance go untreated and get sick since a doctor's visit is around $300 out of pocket.  Health insurance is hard to come by too, since it is only offered through a full-time job with benefits, and those types of jobs are few and far between.

Despite the fact that it is the year 2013, and modern technology has eliminated the open sewers of the 1800s and half of the diseases that once addled the population, dirt and germs are rife.  Antibiotics have made certain strains of bacteria resistant and cancer and heart disease are on the rise.  Foods are sprayed in pesticides, genetically modified, and packaged in plastics.  Preservatives and manufactured additives cause disease and obesity.  The streets are lined with rotting, festering garbage bags where disease carrying flies breed and swarm.  There is litter all over the sidewalks and streets despite there being a garbage bin on almost every city corner.  Sewer stench rises from the grates on every street corner, and the metro is one of the filthiest and most unreliable in the world- a dark, underground world of filthy, crumbling tunnels where legally insane vagrants accost the riders of the metro, perverts masturbate publicly on late night trains, and a young women is not safe after the hours of 12am, unless she is armed with pepper spray or a switch blade.

It is also a day and age where jobs are few and far between, let alone the types of jobs that can lead to actual, lifetime careers.  An entire generation of young people freshly out of college are unemployed, underemployed, or employed at jobs where they cannot possibly make ends meet.  Many of these young people are forced to move back into their parents homes because there is no way they could survive on their own given the state of the economy.  A loaf of bread costs $3.40, a gallon of milk is $4.00, a gallon of gas is $3.80, a one-way ride on the metro is $2.75.  The average cost of a shitty, studio apartment is $1,500 a month.  The only way that these young people can make it on their own is if they went to school for medicine or law.  They will also be fine if they were born into a wealthy family where they inherited money, were passed down a lucrative family business, or were able to afford a top school like Yale or Harvard, or if their family has connections to people in the industry of their pursuit, or if they one the genetic lottery and therefore make a living modelling. If you were one of the unlucky ones that was born into the working class, went to a state school, studied a field in the creative arts, or has no business connections upon which to get you started, then you're fucked unless you have good luck or the drive or Bill Gates.  Simple jobs that anyone could land in the 1980s are now highly competitive.  In New York City, a restaurant service job usually requires an applicant to submit a headshot in addition to their actual resume.

Yes, this is the setting of our story, and the heroine is a young women named Clarissa.  Clarissa works three jobs just to make ends meet.  She pays for rent, transportation, basic food and occasionally some entertainment... just so she doesn't kill herself from living such an exhaustive and mundane existence.  She was forced to put her student loans on hold... the student loans she took out to go to college, in order to get the degree she thought would help land her a decent job.  She is now $30,000 in debt for seemingly nothing.  Clarissa is one of the many twenty somethings that did everything by the book: she had a top GPA in high school, belonged to several extracirricular clubs, did sports, went to a decent college, maintained her top GPA throughout college, graduated with honors, and found herself FUCKED.  She was lied to by parents, teachers, and mentors who promised her that if she worked hard and received good grades and involved herself, life would pan out just fine after college.

Since graduating, she has worked a series of dead end jobs just to pay her basic bills.  None of these were jobs that were particularly relevant to her career in fine arts, or jobs that allowed her any creative freedom at all.  In fact, they were jobs that had no benefits, paid a less-than-livable hourly wage, and made her want to commit suicide behind a desk or at a check out counter in a retail store.  She has applied for upwards of 500 jobs since graduating college 2.5 years ago.  She had a handful of internships while she was still an undergrad, however, since graduating, half of the "jobs" she comes across are unpaid internships in art galleries.  She would love to work in an art gallery, however, she cannot work another unpaid job when she has to eat and pay rent.  She works in a popular retail store, where she is stripped of her identity and instructed what to say, what to wear, and how to do her hair and make up on a daily basis.  She works weekends as a bartender, where she is hit on by all sorts of douche bags and made to feel like someone's bitch as she pours drink after drink for all of the lucky ones that get to party on Saturday nights.  She also submits weekly articles on modern art for an online art publication...however, she doesn't get paid for that, it is merely for personal gratification and so she can continue doing something that is creative and relevant to the field she wants to end up in.

Clarissa is constantly financially stressed and always considering a lucrative career as a stripper in the back of her mind when everything else seems like a waste of time and energy for hardly enough money.


Now for Clarissa's happy ending:

Clarissa goes to Wallstreet to apply for a new job as day time bartender.  She gets hired and works two days a week at said bar.  She meets a rich investment banker on his lunch break one day who is smitten with her naivety and innocence and her mind.  She goes out on several dates with him and she is smitten with his money and his charm.  He buys her breast implants and proposes marriage.  She also realizes he is an unstable, emotionally abusive asshole with a serious coke problem and he is never home since he's always working (aka... fucking his secretary).  Clarissa is able to quit her shitty jobs and do art, however she hates her life more than ever.

Clarissa has a seemingly perfect life to friends and family back home- she is beautiful, gets to work from home doing what she once loved, and is provided for by her intelligent and hard-working husband.  They have a sick apartment, a sick car, and take vacations around the world.  However, behind closed doors, Clarissa is in a state of turmoil.  She sold out on finding real love just because she new that by marrying him, she would be taken care of in this uncertain world.  He belittles her everytime they fight because he went to Yale and she went to a state school.  He reminds her of how she looked before her nose job, lip injections, $600 hair treatments and breast implants.... and how she was working as a day time bartender.  He goes out and fucks 18 year old models and club-coke-whores while she sits at home on saturday nights crying over a bottle of wine with her paintbrush in hand and a blank canvas before her.

Clarissa looks in the mirror and wonders what happened to the sweet, naive, hopeful dreamer she once was.  When did she become a materialistic, plastic bitch who sucks dick for Chanel bags and champagne dinners?  Poor Clarissa.

Clarissa goes in for liposuction after she finds nude photos from an 18 year old Russian model on her husband's iphone and dies while under anesthesia.

The end.

Where has the summer gone?

It is hard to believe that it is already the end of August... where the f*ck did my summer go?!  Just yesterday it seems as though I was home for Memorial Day weekend, binge eating hamburgers in the woods around a fire.  It's been a great summer, despite the fact it flew by at lightening speed.  I have made a lot of changes this summer, all for the best.

The foster cats that were formerly the bane of my existence are FINALLY gone... THANK GOD.  They left on August 3rd... and what a glorious day it was.  It is so nice to come home at night and to not have to brace myself as I approach my door in angst, awaiting the foul odors of the litter box that once upon a time, knocked me off my feet.  It's so nice not having to spend $100 a month on cat food and litter.  The nicest thing, is not having to vacuum cat fir off of my furniture every day though.... such a time saver.  I have decided I never want another animal until I have a huge apartment, or a house with a back yard some day.  No more litter boxes... NEVER AGAIN.  I still can't believe I had those cats for EIGHT MONTHS... and they didn't even let me pet them.  So sad. 

I have three job interviews lined up for this next week, which is very exciting...hopefully one of them works out in my favor.  I will try not to get my hopes up, since that is when my hopes get shot down.  I have an interview for a visual merchandiser with Billabong (better bleach my hair and hit up the tanning salon), then I have an interview for a showroom assistant with a european designer, and finally I have an interview for a PAID (yes, you heard me right.... PAID) intern position with a social media/advertising firm that is right next to Highline.  Something has to work out soon right?  I mean I've been here for almost an entire year now and nothing has come along in terms of a better job.  I'm at my fucking wit's end.  I'm still applying like a mad woman on craigslist... it's just so difficult to not be a little bit selective when you've already been through the wringer as I have.  I refuse to work any more service jobs (I'm sorry, I didn't go to school to be someone's cocktail bitch),  I don't really want to work retail anymore, but if there is a chance for promotion or a chance to branch out into a more creative branch within the company, I suppose it is better than nothing (especially if it pays well).  I really just want to do something creative- or at least something that will open up some doors for a paying, creative position.  I'm really hoping that the social media internship works in my favor.  

I'm in a happier place personally than I have been in a while, so now my 'professional' (as professional as it can get anyway ;) ) life needs some tweaking and I will be golden.  I will leave you with some inspirational shit I've come across in the last month.  I have such a love/hate relationship with this city (if you haven't already noticed)... but finding random scrawlings of drunk people or strange stickers is one of the little things I truly love.  I wish so badly I could have gone home this weekend for my friend's birthday, but when I do get a chance to go home... I need to have a major end of summer party to compensate for all of the time I didn't spend home (like I originally intended to do at the beginning of summer). 

"Good dick will imprison you."   Were truer words every spoken? lmao. 

This little gem I spotted while using the facilities at Johnny's Bar (aka 'Bar' Bar) one night after work.  As you know, I went through my first major relationship and subsequent break up and despite the fact the break up was months ago, my ex has been dragging shit out trying to convince me to come back.  There have been a lot of phone arguments, savage words (on my behalf) and some anger and resentment.  However, in my tipsy state, I read this... and it spoke to me.  "I'm ready for a man that's good enough for me or to spend the rest of my life living happily and looking for one."  I don't know what drunk bitch wrote this... but she was spot on.  Cheers to her. 

One of my favorite shops in this city is a home/cookware store called Fish's Eddy, just outside of Union Square.  They always have the coolest stuff... I must own this cheese plate.  How cool would it be to serve cheese to your friends on a ceramic artist's palette?! 

Reality Bites? Only sometimes.

Ohhhhh Myyyyy.  Yes, that is the only way to describe my life as of late.  You know how it goes... it's like an old, rusty set of scales that are never quite in balance.  One area of life goes up and the other goes down.  Well, one area of my life has been rather promising as of late, and then suddenly my hopes and dreams of having secured a new job for August abruptly came crashing down when I was informed the project was pushed back so they were not hiring.  See what I mean?  I was almost 100% sure I would be starting a new job at the end of August and then a quick email severed my precious heartstrings and sent me into a state of emotional distress and mental anguish over my future finances.  Never EVER put too much stock into anything, no matter how assured you are that it will come to fruition... one never knows what tomorrow will bring.  It has been the biggest learning experience of my adult life not getting my hopes and dreams up.  It is very hard for a dreamer like myself who loves to imagine the best scenario in every situation.  Never ever let those fairytales get to your head; whether they are fairytales of romance, fairytales of wealth, or fairytales of a kick-ass career.  At the end of the day, you can only rely on yourself in this world (even though I rely on pretty much everyone at any given time).  It's once again back to the old grind of craigslist job searching for me.  Jesus christ... will I be poor forever?  Not if I can help it...

I was talking with one of my best friends yesterday and we came to the consensus that one of the only expenditures you don't have guilt over when it comes to dropping money (despite the fact that you are broke as a joke) is alcohol and entertainment.  One would think that if you are poor, this is an area of life where you should be spending the least amount of money... WRONG.  When you are living pay check to pay check, you know for a fact that there is no way you can afford a vacation or a large purchase that would make you otherwise happy (like a sick mint-green beach cruiser with a little woven basket in the front, or a new bag, or some new heels... hey, a bitch can dream).  Therefore, despite the fact that your fridge is bare-bones, and you are sad you are a woman because you have added expenditures like boxes of tampons and mascara, you have no problem spending $16 on a bottle of wine or $60 at the bar to forget the fact that you are so poor for a while.  Forgetting you are poor IS the vacation.  Jesus christ that is soooo pathetic.  I can't stop saying "Jesus Christ."  What has my life come to?! OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG (<----- said in manner of blonde valley girl).  sigh.  At least I am young (for the time being).  At least I am smart (in some aspects).  At least I am healthy (aside from my emotional instability... just kidding).  I am thankful for that.

Now for some promising news, my foster cats will be leaving the weekend of August 3rd/4th.  This is a major relief for me since they have been the bane of my existence since they arrived on February 1st.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard right:  I've had these foster cats for approximately EIGHT fucking months now.  I feel bad that I'm so sore over the subject- but the previous fosters I had only stayed with me for one month each.  It has been so taxing taking care of two cats.  Their poo and pizzle is soooo smelly I want to occasionally die when I walk into my apartment if they have relieved them selves while I'm away.  There have actually been a couple of nights when I was so depressed about life that coming home and having to scoop cat shit at 1:30am has been the breaking straw that sent me into uncontrollable sobbing.  Do you know how pathetic it is to come home to an empty apartment and sob uncontrollably as you scoop cat shit at 1:30am?!  It's just wrong on every level.  They only ever let me pet them when it is meal time, and they wake me up in the early hours of the morning knocking shit around and meowing (and possibly having gay, cat sex).  I know it's not their fault that they are the way the are... but for heaven's sake, I can't go on living like this.  I honestly believe they should have been neutered and returned to the streets from whence they came.  I'm sorry, but some cats can't be domesticated, especially after living their entire lives on the streets without human owners.  Agreeing to foster two cats without a set, end-date was possibly one of the most uninformed decisions I have ever made.  I am also OCD about the cleanliness of my apartment and I am CONSTANTLY vacuuming, sweeping up litter, lint-rolling black cat hairs, etc.  I cannot wait until I don't have to do this anymore because it is very time consuming.  I mean, for fuck's sake- I had a two hour break in between shifts at Highline last Sunday, and I spent it running back to Williamsburg to make sure the cats were fed dinner and to scrub my floors.  Furthermore, going home for even a couple of days was a real pain in the ass if my sister was going upstate too,  because then I felt guilty leaving the cats and would always return back to an extra smelly apartment.  NOT COOL.  I hope for their sake they find a good home with a true cat fanatic who doesn't care that her/his apartment smells and gets dirty.  I am not the one.

Last night I went out with another one of my friends and it was so good to have a discussion about life with someone who is in the exact same boat as me (so to speak).  I am happy to know that I am not the only twenty-something who is confused about life, stressed about work/finances, and scared about the future.  It's good to know I'm not the only one who loves going home just for the full fridge of food at my fingertips, or that I'm not the only one who hates having to spend money on necessities like razors, shampoo, dish soap, and paper towels when there are so many better things to spend money on.  If I knew what life in my twenties would have been like 6 years ago, I wonder if I would have prepared differently or made different decisions.  Probably not.   I suppose there is nothing I really could have done differently to prepare myself for the present.  However, It sure as hell would have been nice if the economy/job market hadn't crashed a few years before I graduated.  That really fucked over pretty much everyone in my immediate age group.  Now I'm just getting angry about things I can't control.... changing the subject:

I think I should throw a party and get back to my roots as an entertaining goddess this month.  I need to make the best of my summer while it is still here and I really feel like cooking/baking/decorating (I am such a woman).  Not that I haven't been having a fair amount of fun ;)  I definitely have been having a pretty decent summer in the city.  I recently acquired a small table from a friend that I plan to turn into a sick mini bar.  I am going to paint and lacquer it black (sings: I see a red door and I want it painted black, no colors anymore I want them to turn black... lmao; that's my motto for any piece of furniture I get... everything looks better in either lacquered black or stark white).  But, anyhow, I'm painting it black and then i am going to get a mirrored tray for the top and some sort of little wine rack for the second shelf.  I lovvvvee having physical projects to keep my busy.  It's so therapeutic to keep your hands busy sanding, painting, or sewing... it is like a mental relaxation technique which is great for a person like myself whom never stops thinking.  Goddamn, I love life even if it is a real bitch sometimes.

Laying on the terrace, contemplating the meaning of life one evening.  I'm so fucking deep it kills me... ahahahaha.  JK 

It's a vicious cycle

Now that summer is in full swing, things seem to be looking up.  I'm not planning on getting complacent, because I doubt this high will last (they never do), but I will enjoy every good moment for what it is worth.  I have a job lined up for this fall (99% sure... I'm banking on absolutely nothing 100% until papers are signed), but it definitely gives me something to look forward to and has put part of my mind at ease (the part constantly worrying whether or not I should stay in NYC and renew my lease).  I had a decent week at Highline so I treated myself to some American Apparel trash and new sneakers from Urban.  It's a good thing I purchased them when I did, because I threw out three pairs of shoes in the last week.  My favorite Espadrilles bit the dust one day when the entire sole detached from the wedge.  My suede Vans that were once white, had turned a dingy shade of grey, so they got chucked, and then my pink, cheapo sneakers got the chuck after they tore my feet up for the last time. Just another excuse to go shopping!  Why oh why oh why do I love clothes SO much?   I just wish I could play dress up all day, every day.  This is exactly why a costume shop is where I belong....

I am so excited to go upstate next weekend for my niece's one year birthday party (we're celebrating her birthday in the city this weekend, but next weekend will be family!!!!).  I miss my sweet Bijou and Ceely so much, and am dying for some peach sangria with my friends.  Hopefully I won't regress back into another upstate binge since I just ended a six-week binge and am finally back on track to recovering my body after drowning my sorrows in alcohol and San Loco at 4am.

Finally starting to see my man-V again.  It was missing for a while there.  And no, I don't work out.  I just stopped eating after 8pm, because late night dining was bringing me down. 

I was playing in my closet when I decided that next year for Halloween, I'm going to be a Spanish Seductress.  I bought this from Victoria's Secret two years ago and have yet to wear it.  

I'm surprised that Victoria's secret didn't have to pull this costume because it's offensive to Spaniards... they had to pull the Japanese inspired one from the site last year after too many Asians complained.  

Despite the fact that I've been wearing less clothes than ever now that the weather is warm and treating myself to the highest of heels, I have been on a real feminist kick lately.  I don't know what spurred it; probably the fact that every Saturday night I get hit on by douche bag jersey-shore trash while I do door hostessing at Highline.  It's so sad the way that some dudes think that because they're mildly attractive and compliment you that they think that they'll be able to take you home if they invite you out for drinks.  The new video for that song "Blurred Lines" really pissed me off too, not to mention the song's lyrics.  I know a true feminist strives for equality, but sometimes a violent, suppressed part of me really wants to retaliate by making a music video where I talk about degrading a dude during sex (that he may or may not want in the first place) and making him parade around naked while I sit there taking in the beauty of his naked body while I remain fully-clothed.  It's just that I feel like there is this continual perpetuation of rape culture in today's world, and it is reaffirmed over and over again by simple things like song lyrics or common jokes or things we see on the internet.  Yes the song is catchy, and yes, everyone is welcome to freedom of speech, but as a woman who has been put in situations I did not necessarily condone in the past,  I hate the idea of a guy saying he knows that 'someone wants it.'  

As a woman, I have been in situations time and time again where I was just being myself and someone made assumptions that were incredibly inaccurate.  Just because I am making out with you, doesn't mean I 'want it.'  Just because I invite you in so you can take a piss, doesn't mean 'I asked for it."  I think maybe I just need a chill pill.  Society just infuriates me so much sometimes.  I also hate how it has become normal for guys to refer to girls as bitches amongst the members of my generation.  To me, the term 'bitch,' is like the N-word is for black people.  Like, if a friend calls me a bitch in a joking manner (ex. "where my bitches attttttt"), then it is acceptable.  Or, if I was truly acting like a nasty person and someone was like, "why are you acting like such a bitch?" it'd be one thing; but for guys to openly refer to women as 'bitches'... it's just not ok.  Oh well.  I guess the fact that there are musical artists out there like Lil' Kim and Khia talking about dudes as purely sexual objects, compensates somewhat for all of the songs by male artists where women are made out to be purely sex objects.  

I started getting very nostalgic a few days ago when I was on facebook and looking at photos from Cliff Street.  I miss having my girl friends in the same town so we can hang out nightly.  I also miss throwing outrageous parties.  Being an adult is not all I thought it was going to be when I was young.  I just wish I could go back to acting like a wild child for a few weeks and get it out of my system.  Seeing my former self dancing on a stripper pole in my living room, throwing a white trash themed party, and generally being out of of control makes me think that it is time for me to get a little bit out of control.  It's just so hard to get out of control when you aren't living with your best friends whom will keep you in check if you take it too far.  I'm tempted to post pictures... but there is a reason those tagged photos are private on FB.  Pretty sure my friends would not want there faces splashed about my blog either since they all have fairly respectable jobs. ahahahaha.  Ugh.  Maybe at the end of summer, I will throw a blow out party at home.  There will be tubs of home made sangria, jungle juice, far too much vodka, colored lights, a huge fire, and the resurrection of Jasper (he currently resides in a plastic tub underneath my bed upstate, along with the vintage David Bowie photograph, a few very special wine bottles, and other cliff street mementos).  That is something to look forward to.... :D    I know I should be proud of myself for having not thrown up or cried after drinking in a long time... but part of me misses the time in my life where that was a normal occurrence.  Watch out world... I'm feeling wild.

In a perfect world (for me, anyhow, not for others)

I grew discouraged while searching for jobs and started dreaming about my ideal life.  I don't even know if my ideal life would involve a career anymore... sadly, the reality of my situation means that no job is not an option at this point.  But It didn't stop me from imagining a world of six inch stilettos, a plethora of Motel bodysuits, a hubby who supports my creative endeavors, and weekends entertaining friends at my seaside mansion.

I daydream far more than any person should; I think I do it to give myself hope and something to look forward to that is built into an attainable fantasy of my anticipated future when I have nothing else in my immediate future to look forward to.  I see no harm in it- after all, if I am not hoping for something, I have no hope, and what is a life lived with no hope?  Life is full of surprises- it's hard to plan anything down the road when you don't even know if you will be working tomorrow.  It's hard to know if anyone will get back to you from all of those jobs you applied to.  It is hard to know if you will wake up with a clear face, or three new zits.  I'm not sure where all of this is going; I'm just saying that in moments of life when everything around me seems to be crumbling down, relationships, my bank account, my ego, (yes, I am dramatic like that), I like to look forward to what I anticipate my future will be if I work hard enough.  The following paragraphs will document what I would find to be a perfect future.

I would have a beautiful house in the Hamptons on the water.  It would have a huge backyard and a sun room that had perfect views of the beach.  I'd have a huge kitchen where I would cook awesome meals and bake awesome desserts, and that kitchen would have windows overlooking the water.  I would have lilac trees, and hydrangea bushes, and maybe even rose bushes in the front and back yard.  I would have a pool, and a mint-green vespa to get around town on, with a basket in the front to put my fresh produce when I visited the local farmer's market.  I would also be the proud owner of a vintage jaguar and some other luxury car, like that sick Mercedes SUV that looks like a Range Rover (I'm not a dude, so I don't really pay attention to the specific names of cars... I just know that I want it).

I would have a husband.  He would be a hard worker, but he would know how to have fun- he would be down to earth and far from stuffy or pretentious.  We might do recreational drugs on the weekend... nothing crazy though.  He wouldn't be an addict.  He would have a full head of beautiful hair, a big, warm smile, and beautiful eyes.... oh, and beautiful hands (hands are one of the most important features on a man for me).  He would be sweet and thoughtful and charming.  I could hold an intellectual conversation with him, or just be my crazy-ass self and he would love every minute of it.  He wouldn't be a lumberjack or have huge muscles, but he would know how to fix the faucet or change a tire and build me a fire.  He would enjoy grilling and manly things like fine whisky and soccer matches. But he would also like to go to concerts and be spontaneous (like drinking germ-x or smashing wine bottles on trees... jk... the past is the past).

I would pursue writing and costuming, and hopefully provide some portion of the income doing so.  But I would have a schedule that allowed me to be home for dinner; and I would make awesome meals to relax at the end of the day, while I had a large glass of Rose.  I would also throw many parties in my huge house.  I would string fairy lights in the back yard and have a copper, screened-in fire pit for summer get-togethers.  I would be like Ina Garten and make picnic baskets full of yummy pasta salads and baked goods and bottles of wine for get-togethers with friends on the beach or a romantic date with my husband.  If my creative endeavors did not provide me with much money, my husband would be happy to provide for me.  And I would be happy to be dressed in some sexy little number with dinner ready whenever he got home (yes, I know this goes against what I should stand for as a feminist, but I fucking love heels and tight dresses and lingerie and cooking for others).

I would have enough time and money to travel the world- we would take an annual vacation to some far off location.  But I would also take weekend trips around the East Coast and stay in ideal locations on lakes or the water.  My husband and I would go on weekend get-aways to vineyards or maybe even hiking.  We would go to art galleries and museums and concerts all over and discover new restaurants, stores, and bars along the way.  We would own a sail boat and spend a good portion of the summer on it.  If we were wealthy enough, we would have a yacht.  A girl can dream, right?

How I would spend my days:

Taking "artistic" photos.  I am really good a photographing human subjects, because I know my angles (I spent 12 years of my life taking dance and growing up in front of a mirror, I know what makes a bitch look good).  This is an old photo of my brother... I'm so talented. jk. ahahahahaha

Making my shitty, emo paintings would be another past-time in my fantasy future.  Maybe I would even sell them in local galleries (I doubt anyone would ever want to buy this shit though) haha.  If my future husband was supporting me, I would certainly have more time to paint. 

Refurbishing vintage pieces of furniture and decorating my mansion.  I laquered this little gem.  I'd have the sickest house ever with my great decorating sense. 

Sewing Costumes!  I sewed all of the costumes in this pic.. and they weren't even completely finished here.  Please ignore the blurred out faces- I didn't want to post pics of people without their permission :)  I would sew custom costumes from home.  I'd have an entire room for sewing and painting in my imaginary mansion. 

thoughts

1.  dont drink at work....youll get drunk

2.  dont ever give anyone your number...theyre all douche bags.

3.  stay away from french dudes, theyll scar you so bad you wont even be able to listen to daft punk.

4.  do treat yourself to some jeffrey campbell booties...theyre the comfiest 6 inch heels known to man.

5.  dont eat san loco...your stomach will hate you and youll wake up fat.

6.  do enjoy the smell of the spunk trees in june...they lose their spunk scent and start to smell like lilacs.

7.  do visit your ex boyfriend in the hamptons because life is 1000000x better when youre near the beach.

8.  dont self tan.

9.  embrace your white skin.

10.  never ever ever get your hopes up.  they will always be shot down.  its only when youre least expecting things to go well that they actually dom

11.  dont ever take your health for granted.

One Year, Two Years, Three Years ago

TODAY

Today I am sitting here with a part-time job that doesn't even make ends meet.  I haven't bought myself something nice in a long time because it's all I can do to pay my bills and afford essentials like toilet paper and coffee.  My New York State taxes were filed incorrectly so instead of getting back $400, I now owe $233 (after a three month pending period following my accountant resubmitting forms and New York State dicking around deciding if anything would change).  I hate my job.  It would be one thing if I were making a decent salary and was able to afford some fun in my life, but I bust my ass waiting on assholes who may or may not tip properly, and feel degraded as fuck.  I have a college degree (two degrees, actually), retail management experience, costuming experience, writing experience, and yet night after night, I wait on demanding customers and carry heavy trays of alcoholic beverages through packed audiences who don't have enough empathy to move out of my way.

I live alone.  I come home to an empty apartment and two, smelly-ass foster cats whose poop I'm constantly scooping.  I wake up alone.  I can take time off from my job whenever I would like which is great, except I need money so I can't really take time off without guilt or worrying how I will pay my rent the next month.  My hourly pay is $5 an hour, and thanks to New York City taxes, about 1/3 of my paycheck is taken out, so even when I make awesome credit tips... it doesn't matter.

I spend my days off scrubbing my apartment, which gets surprisingly filthy due to two cats with shedding black hair.  I also scour craigslist.org for better jobs, either in or out of NYC, since I'm not so sure that I even want to live here anymore.  I have really been considering going to Grad school, but I'm not sure where or for what.  Life is more confusing than ever before, and it seems that due to rent, my lease, and bills, my options are pretty limited at the moment.

I am still broken up with my ex-boyfriend, though we now talk on a daily basis (this was after I said we couldn't communicate at all and I slowly realized you can't just cut one of your best friends entirely out of your life without serious consequences).  I have been out with a handful of dudes since breaking up with him about 4 months ago (after we went on numerous breaks and got into numerous fights over the last year of our relationship), and every guy I went out with just didn't do it for me.  I've been out with assholes who only wanted no-strings attached sex, guys who admitted to throwing cats against a wall and might be deported due to DUIs, dudes I met while they were rolling on molly, and I am now throwing in the towel.  If I have to be alone for the rest of my life, it will be better than dating a dick bag.  I have only just recently given up on dating and seeing other guys; I think I was just using it as a distraction from my otherwise stressful and and mundane existence, so now I am back to focusing on just me.  I don't need any distractions- they aren't worth my time, energy, or emotions.


ONE YEAR AGO

One year ago, I was a visual assistant manager at Hollister Co.  I was living at home and driving about 30 minutes to and from work in Binghamton each day.  I hated my job because of the politics of the company and the emphasis on physical appearance, but in retrospect, at least I had a steady pay check every two weeks and worked with a great team of people (not that I don't now- the people I currently work with are also great).  I sometimes had to be into work at 6am, but in retrospect, it's a lot better than my current job of going into work at 10pm and not getting out until 4am.

Living at home didn't always seem like the greatest thing, but now that I live alone, it was awesome to have had someone considerate enough to put a plate of food in the fridge for me when they new I wasn't going to be back from work until midnight.  It was nice to have a built-in friend with my brother also living at home, so I had someone to talk to and watch a movie with at 10pm.  It was really nice to have a car, and not have to rely on someone else's time schedule for transportation as I do these days (the L train is NEVER running the way it should be, and I have spent so much money on cabs as a result that it makes me feel sick thinking of the money I have wasted in the last few months).  I didn't have to pay rent, which saved me a shit ton of money, and I also didn't have to spend money on food... or toilet paper... or coffee.. or fucking foster cats who will shit their brains out if I don't buy top-of-the-line, $40 bags of hard food. Life was pretty fucking good looking back....

I had $10,000 in my bank account.  I was planning on quitting my job with Hollister to move to NYC in the fall, and I was hopeful that finding work in the city would be relatively easy.  I was so full of hope.  I also had grandiose plans to spend a portion of my money on a trip to Barcelona.  I was on a break with my then boyfriend, and had so much time to just focus on me and MY future.  I spent days off making elaborate meals for my family (it was nice to have people to cook for), walking my dogs, taking a raft out in Guilford lake by myself, or just planning my future and applying to jobs in the city.


Two Years Ago

At this time two years ago, I was madly in love with my boyfriend.  We were still doing long-distance after a year and a half of being together, but each time we saw each other, it was like three days in heaven.  I would look forward to visiting him in the Hamptons (where his family lived) and going to the beach and for long bike rides by the bay and out to eat.  I looked forward to nights of star-gazing in his hammock, and cooking awesome meals with him.  He would come visit me upstate, and I would show him around my innocent, sleepy little town.  We would have a fire in the woods, or go for walks, and I would bring him to all the coolest restaurants Binghamton had to offer.  We would hang out with my cousin and brother and cook meals for my family.  We were so happy and in love back then.... it almost makes me sad to think back on these days.

I worked part time at Macy's in the cosmetics department.  I worked with some truly awesome women, and I had so much free time on my hands since I worked about four days a week and the hours were pretty decent (no late-late nights like I am doing now, or super early mornings like I had to do for Hollister).  I was still living at home back then and commuting via car to Binghamton.  My paychecks weren't that big, so it sucked that a large portion had to go towards gas, but it was still better than taking the subway or paying for a cab.

I spent my free time cooking for my family, or catering to the feral cats in my backyard (this was the summer that Bijou and Pot Pie showed up as kittens).  I built tent city for them and would spend hours outside playing with them.  I hung out with my friends for drinks at Jerry's or the occasional bonfire party.  I had just graduated from Oneonta so I was not in any major rush to find an adult job with benefits etc.  Time was on my side back then and I was not stressed about much.  I think the biggest stress in my life was making time to see my boyfriend.



Three Years Ago

Three years ago, I had just had the most tumultuous and amazing year of my young, adult life.  The summer after the year of Cliff Street was an interesting time.  I had a new boyfriend (we had been together for about six months back then), and that summer was the beginning of what would turn into a 3 year long distance relationship.  It was a hard transition since we had seen each other daily while college was in session.  I was so in love back then.  I would bake him cookies and mail them to him, and I looked forward to visiting him in the Hamptons or him visiting me upstate.

I was so sweet, and young, and innocent and hopeful it almost pains me to look back on that time in my life.  I would cry because I missed my boyfriend, but other than that nothing really stressed or upset me.  I was working part-time at Claire's, which was a pretty sweet and innocent job in itself.... selling tiaras and tutus to little girls or piercing an 8 year old's ears.

The highlight of my summer back then was having my Albany friends drive to Oneonta for a night out with the girls, or taking a trip to Albany to visit them and go to my friend's family's restaurant and Crossgates mall.  I went on shopping trips with my mom and grandma that summer- I bought my first $90 bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier perfum, and SO MUCH lingerie... I must have spent about $2,000 on lingerie over the three years I was with my boyfriend.  I fucking miss the excitement of it all.  Now I wonder if I will ever feel those butterflies and that newness ever again.  


Four Years Ago

Four years ago, I was a virgin, I was single, I was having so much fun and acting out doing all sorts of crazy shit.  It was the summer of rage week, and my best friend and I were inseparable.  I'm convinced we hung out pretty much every day, whether it was deciding to drive to binghamton to do drugs and see a movie, or sitting on her mom's deck with the caged in fire lit drinking wine under the stars.  We listened to a lot of Jeff Buckley that summer, and usually ended up quoting his lyrics when we were wasted or emo.  We listened to a lot of shitty and awesome music like Def Leopard and Metallica and other assorted crap we thought was amazing because it fit the mood.  We spray painted the pavilion in a park and had to jump over a bank in the pouring rain to hide from the cops, we got wasted on the football field at night with our group of guy friends and had to run from the cops when they showed up... we did a lot of running from the cops that summer.  We went out in Oneonta a lot- our favorite bars that summer were the Black Oak Tavern (I loved skeevy, hipster types) and the Fox (my friend loved karaoke), and drank a lot of cocktails.  I made out with a lot of boys that summer... it was a fun summer.  I don't even think I had a job that summer... which is probably why it was so awesome.  Oh wait, that's right- I cleaned houses for old ladies. ahahahahaha.  What a great job.  It was only like $120 a week for about 6 hours total work, but it was enough to buy drinks at the bar, since I really had no other expenditures.  I still had my shitty Nissan Altima that summer; that was the summer I drove it into a 4 ft. ditch completely sober.  It was still fine after that.... it was a good car.  The summer of 2009 led into the greatest year of my life, the fall of 2009 and the year I spent at Clif Street.

This was the year that would change me forever.  I met some of my closest friends that fall, drank far more than I should have, did some crazy and stupid shit, which NO, I don't regret at all, and met my boyfriend.  Summer of 2009 was amazing, even though I was in emotional turmoil.  Life was promising and the future was wide open (to quote Tom Petty).

Post from a Bus

I am currently sitting on a greyhound bus back to my shitty, New York existence.  My ipod is dead as disco, I am about 15 lbs heavier than I was just a month ago, I'm having severe anxiety over my future, and I am 100% positive that my apartment will smell heavily of cat shit and piss upon my return.  Furthermore I can't even use proper punctuation without a great degree of difficulty on my outdated Android.  But hey life could be much, much worse.

Despite the fact that I spent the majority of my time home eating and am now 15 lbs fatter, home was most enjoyable...even if it rained 2 out of the 3 days that I was home.  Anyone reading this whom actually knows me will probably think I am insane for thinking that I gained 15 lbs, but the scale at the doctor's office doesn't lie.  Neither does the fact that my belt doesn't fit without having to suck in, or the fact that I have chafed the hell out of my inner thighs and love handles when I wear my black work pants.  I have to take immediate action before this gets out of control.  It reminds me of my freshman year at FIT.  I lost a ton of weight that Fall and then when I went home for Christmas break, I gained all of it back and then some over the course of the six weeks we had for break.  Upon returning to the city that January, my sister took me on a death march across the city to go to the Apple store and my too-tight jeans chafed my love handles and inner thighs so severely, that I had rug-burn like abrasions that lasted for a week.  I can never let that happen again, because then it spurs this vicious cycle where I throw in the towel and start eating cookies out of sadness and failure and make the situation even more devastating and hard to bounce back from.  When I am back in the city I will also have to post a proper blog with photos, since my phone also won't let me post pics.

I have been thinking a lot about grad school these past couple of weeks.  I cannot believe that I have been in NYC for 9 months now and still only have part-time work at Highline.  I will be off my parent's insurance next year, which has really made me start to freak out about the thought of a life without insured doctor/dental/and optometry visits (I refuse to ever live a life without insurance and become one of those people whom have to pay $300 out of pocket for a basic doctor's visit or one of those people who just stop going to the dentist because they have no insurance).   So now, I am REALLY freaking out about an adult job that comes with proper benefits and a 401K.  My health is super important to me since I freak out over little things and visit webmd.com more than any person should.  If I can't find a "proper" job, perhaps my best option at this point would be to immerse myself back into academia.  I do love writing papers and attending classes.... It is definitely something I intend to look into this week on my days off.

Speaking of health, i had my annual lady appointment (the primary reason i went home) and every time I leave that office, I cannot help but think  to myself how lucky my 72 year old OBGYN is.  I mean, the dude is 72 years old and gets to feel up 25 year old breasts all day.  I bet his geriatric friends are all jealous... hahahahhaa.  Ew.

View from the dock at CowFish in Hampton Bays... I think I could have a cocktail sitting on this wrap-around deck every day and life would be good. 

Beach on Dune Road.  

Bouquet of wild flowers I picked while at home... I'm so fucking fancy... NOT. 

The highlight of my trip home.. Bijou, my pride and joy.  He is the best cat in the world.  And the cutest. 

Pleasant Thoughts

After a week of eating my feelings, I suppose it is time to get my shit together and get back on the saddle.  I swear to God I've gained about 15 pounds over the course of the last 7 days thanks to a trip home last weekend, coupled with severe boredom and a less-than-conducive to eating regular meals work schedule (going into work at 5pm and getting out at 4am.... not good).  Ugh.  It always seems that just when everyone else is shedding winter weight and getting fit for summer, I balloon out just in time for shorts season.  It doesn't help me feel any better that when I go on Pinterest to do my pinning for Renegade Chicks and all of the street fashion photos seem to feature girls with twigs for legs.  What gives?  It's almost as bad as lookbook.nu where every person looks like they're suffering from anorexia (I'm sorry, I know an eating disorder ravaged body when I see it as opposed to someone who is naturally thin).  Come on, I know that not all stylish people of the world are under 100 lbs.  It's so annoying and frustrating that no one with any mass to their body posts pictures.  I'm not advocating a plus-size lookbook or pinterest fashion page, but it'd be nice to see some varying body shapes.  I see all of these outfits that look awesome on a girl with a thigh-gap and bony ass collar bone, and then I picture myself wearing them and realize that because I have an ass and thighs they won't look nearly as good on me.  It is thoroughly depressing.  And I'm not saying I'm big, because I'm far from being fat, but jesus... if these photos make a person of my size feel inadequate that's an issue.  It's just not healthy.  Another thing I hate about summer is the fact that heat makes me swell.  So does working out.  I can't even take walks without my calves and thighs growing in size.  No lie.  I'm better off not working out at all.  I took a walk across the bridge last week and my calves doubled in size.  It's so sad.

I have been so much better at not taking anything for granted since living on my own, but the one thing I've realized that I take for granted far too often is my health.  Whenever I'm sick, I realize how awesome it is just to feel 'normal' and well.  Last week, I started feeling a bit off and decided a doctor's appointment was in order.  After searching my insurance's directory page, I realized the nearest doctor that accepted my insurance plan (MVP, hmo), was an hour and forty minute commute away.  "Ain't nobody got time for that." hahaha.  It was so frustrating.  And on top of the fact the commute would have taken the better part of a day, they couldn't even get me in for like 3 days.  UM, HELLO????  If I'm making a doctor's appointment for an issue that's currently going on with my body, I'd really like to be fucking seen ASAP to get said issue resolved.  So, I was forced to make an appointment with an office in Manhattan and on top of spending $90 out of pocket for a routine check up, I waiting for an hour and 45 minutes.  What would I do if I had had to get to work and they made me wait that long?  I was so fucking frustrated.  I have an actual doctor's appointment scheduled at home next week, which I am SO looking forward to.  I don't know who looks forward to a doctor's appointment like it's a holiday, but let me tell you, I am.  I can't wait to see my regular doctor, and be treated like a human being, not just another random patient they need to get in and out.  My abdomen has been feeling seriously wonky.  Last summer I had gastritis and made a midnight trip to the ER after throwing up at work and crying all night from the stabbing pain under my rib cage.  I ended up needing a double IV and narcotic drip followed by a series of antibiotics and prescription pain killers.  However, I've been having intense stabbing pains in my lower, right-side this time, and I don't know what the fuck is going on.  Naturally I've hopped on webmd.com and have concluded it's probably some sort of ovarian cancer.  I'm sure I'm being dramatic and a hypochondriac, but only time will tell.  At least this doctor's visit will give me a chance to go home for a couple of days.  I can't fucking wait to see my friends and Bijou and have some peach sangria.

My sister was out of town this weekend and I was responsible for feeding Emma, so I have been taking full advantage of cable.  I watched some truly sappy shit like 'Nights in Rodanthe' and then I went on a Dolly Parton kick and watched '9 to 5' and own of my favorite girly movies, 'Steel Magnolias.'  Dolly Parton used to be so f*cking pretty before she jacked her face up.  hahaha.  I also watched a lot of Food Network (probably why I my hunger was never satiated and I devoured upwards of 20,000 calories in two days).  I decided one of my new goals in life is to mature into a less-fat version of Ina Garten (Barefoot Contessa).  I someday aspire to own a huge, shingle-sided mansion in the Hamptons where I make delicious food and cocktails to serve to my friends and guests all year long.  I think that'd be a lovely life- picnics on the beach at sunset, beautiful brunches for two.  Sigh.  A girl can dream, right?

I have also decided to be a nerd and list some of my favorite little things in life (apart from the basics like friends and family), to remind myself of all the small things that I should be grateful for:

1.  Lilacs in the spring.  I have decided that when I get married some day, I will need luscious bouquets of white lilacs at my wedding.  I don't care if lilac season is over, they will be had even if I have to spend mad money to import them.

2.  Bijou.  He is the best cat I know... all sweet, and fluffy and gay and doing is business in the outdoors where I'm not subjected to the foul scents or having to scoop his shit at 2am.

3.  A great cocktail with my best friends; whether it is the perfect cosmopolitan (my local bartender surprisingly makes the best... I like a lot of triple sec), or the $5 peach sangria from Highway 7.  Nothing is more relaxing than a good cocktail and some girl talk.

4.  Fires- I love bonfires in the summer and fires in the winter.  Nothing is more comforting than the smell of wood burning, the glow of the flames, and the direct heat.  I also love cooking hotdogs and s'mores over an open flame.

5.  The beach.  I can't wait to make a trip to the beach some time soon to bask my pale body in the dangerous UVA/UVB rays.  I love the sound of waves and seagulls, and feeling like I'm at the edge of the world with only the horizon before me.  It makes me feel like I'm removed from any other stresses and issues in life... and that is a good feeling.

6.  Fresh cut grass; I love the smell of fresh cut grass and hay in the summer time.

7.  New clothes and shoes.  Nothing makes me feel sexier than slipping into some new hot shorts or heels.

8.  A good movie.  I don't care if it is something that makes me cry, or something that makes me laugh. I love a movie that helps me step out of my own life for a couple of hours.

9.  Sunsets.  I love a beautiful pink, orange and red sky, especially if I have good company and/or a good drink in my hand.

10.  Getting hit on.  Even if the dude is an obvious douche bag, it's still flattering to be hit on as long as it's in a tasteful manner (no, catcalls on the street don't count... that's just disgusting).

11.  Ice cream.  Even though I will regret my decision to binge eat ice cream the following day, ice cream is just so damn delicious.

12.  A clean apartment.  It's so nice to have spotless floors, clean counter tops, lint-rolled furniture, and no dirty clothes in the hamper.

13.  A good skin day.  Nothing boosts my confidence quite like waking up with no blemishes to cover.

14.  A good dinner out.  I love dining out; it is so nice to be waited on and served and have someone else cleaning up and doing dishes.  I never really appreciate this until I was a server.

15.  Jeff Buckley on rainy days.

16.  Making an awesome meal for family/friends or cooking an awesome meal with the person you love (I miss this).

17.  Flowers.  Whether it is a field of wild flowers upstate, rose bushes, or bouquets of cut flowers at the corner grocery, I love flowers.

18.  A fresh manicure.  Nothing makes me want to sing "I feel pretty, oh so pretty" like getting my nails did.

19.  Days off.  Nothing is better than waking up and knowing the whole day is yours to do whatever you please with.

20.  Taking a cab as opposed to the smelly subway.